To The West...Khartoum
I was having some 'me' time this Saturday, I had my play-list set to Afro, the label for my African song collection. As the tunes played, one after the other, it brought back memories of Africa. Not only Nigeria, but Khartoum, Abidjan before the political turmoil, Tunis my new home and of course Ibadan the land of rusty rooftops and burly black men.
Khartoum
As I. K. Dairo's Fi ona Mi han mi, spewed forth from my speakers, it brought back memories. I remembered the hot Sudanese sun. You could not get anything done during the day, the sun saw to it that one was disoriented. My Dad would play I. K. Dairo and Orlando Owoh on rotation in the Toyota Hiace pick-up truck whenever we went to get Ice cream in Khartoum Talata. Khartoum must be the city with the largest ratio of pick-up to sedans. Over time I. K. Dairo became quite an acquaintance of mine, my whistling was in perfect harmony with his accordion, as he belted those melodious tunes in succession. Those were the days.
I remember Sharaf and Samira, they tried to migrate to Nigeria, with us, they where good people. They envied the free society. Time after time I would go on picnics, with some Sudanese college students, and their ways never ceased to amuse me. We would drive for two hours to a particular citrus plantation. We would then sit under the shades of the trees, sing and then clap for hours, they would then proceed to swim in the upstream side of the dam. Boys would swim and the girls would remain under the trees telling stories. In those days toasting a woman was frowned upon. I do not know if this still remains the status quo.
I remember Chidi, he drove a Mercedes Benz S-Class and lived like a king, right there in the desert. If you asked him how he pulled this feat off, he'd reply, I am a trader. I recall the American club vividly where expatriates mingled and exchanged stories about encounters with the locals. One had to get through a bomb detector before admission into this club/compound. The giant burger was very good. The food was free and locals were not allowed in. I remember the Greek comedian, he still the funniest person I have ever dealt with one on one. He confided in me that he still believed that Benin girls were the best at taking care of a man in the bed department. This was news to my fifteen years old self.
I remember being caught in the middle of the Ethiopia-Sudan feud of the mid 90's. I was stuck in Addis-Ababa(the city of flowers) since Ethiopian Airlines had some beef with the Sudanese government. My time in Addis was put to good use, I hope to write the story some other time. The story includes, smoking palors, Jamiacans, touts, lost in translation, and the police. Wheeew that was a close call. Keep in mind all of these happened in the 90's.
For some reason whenever I read any article about Dafur I see a vivid parallel with Nigeria and all other troubled spots in Africa, the economic savvy Arabs, the political (brown guys..I do not recall what this ethnic group is called) and the persecuted blacks int he south. The forces of oppression, are the same everywhere, same ole familiar problems just another country. I miss the restaurants on the boats on the bank of river Nile.
Will be back with some more disjointed gist of Abidjan and Tunis.
Khartoum
As I. K. Dairo's Fi ona Mi han mi, spewed forth from my speakers, it brought back memories. I remembered the hot Sudanese sun. You could not get anything done during the day, the sun saw to it that one was disoriented. My Dad would play I. K. Dairo and Orlando Owoh on rotation in the Toyota Hiace pick-up truck whenever we went to get Ice cream in Khartoum Talata. Khartoum must be the city with the largest ratio of pick-up to sedans. Over time I. K. Dairo became quite an acquaintance of mine, my whistling was in perfect harmony with his accordion, as he belted those melodious tunes in succession. Those were the days.
I remember Sharaf and Samira, they tried to migrate to Nigeria, with us, they where good people. They envied the free society. Time after time I would go on picnics, with some Sudanese college students, and their ways never ceased to amuse me. We would drive for two hours to a particular citrus plantation. We would then sit under the shades of the trees, sing and then clap for hours, they would then proceed to swim in the upstream side of the dam. Boys would swim and the girls would remain under the trees telling stories. In those days toasting a woman was frowned upon. I do not know if this still remains the status quo.
I remember Chidi, he drove a Mercedes Benz S-Class and lived like a king, right there in the desert. If you asked him how he pulled this feat off, he'd reply, I am a trader. I recall the American club vividly where expatriates mingled and exchanged stories about encounters with the locals. One had to get through a bomb detector before admission into this club/compound. The giant burger was very good. The food was free and locals were not allowed in. I remember the Greek comedian, he still the funniest person I have ever dealt with one on one. He confided in me that he still believed that Benin girls were the best at taking care of a man in the bed department. This was news to my fifteen years old self.
I remember being caught in the middle of the Ethiopia-Sudan feud of the mid 90's. I was stuck in Addis-Ababa(the city of flowers) since Ethiopian Airlines had some beef with the Sudanese government. My time in Addis was put to good use, I hope to write the story some other time. The story includes, smoking palors, Jamiacans, touts, lost in translation, and the police. Wheeew that was a close call. Keep in mind all of these happened in the 90's.
For some reason whenever I read any article about Dafur I see a vivid parallel with Nigeria and all other troubled spots in Africa, the economic savvy Arabs, the political (brown guys..I do not recall what this ethnic group is called) and the persecuted blacks int he south. The forces of oppression, are the same everywhere, same ole familiar problems just another country. I miss the restaurants on the boats on the bank of river Nile.
Will be back with some more disjointed gist of Abidjan and Tunis.
5Comment(s):
I'm jealous of your escapades o, has anyone ever experienced the different parts of Africa as you have? must be nice!
Wow, you really have been around. I'm a 'little' jealous.
Where are the other stories, I can relate to this.
Mr OAU...More grease to ur elbow...Quite stimulating