Ibadan

My friend Mark had returned from England finally. Which means we hung out late on Thursday night, which means my bags were still unpacked for Friday after school. Which means I took some of my planning time to organize the essentials with roughing it in mind.

MIKE

Our plan was to meet at 3:00. I had touched base with Mike earlier in the week about how much money I would need and if I needed to make reservations. He assured me 100 dollars would be fine and he would arrange for the details. When I met him in the classroom I wasn't even sure how we would be getting up to Ibadan. But, I was in for the time for my life and was excited when he said that we would be taking a taxi to a local bus stop and from there join others in a bus that seats 14 people. I had taken these buses before in Kenya. Babies are handed over to you, chickens rest on your lap and the outside is piled high with overstuffed bags. This bus was very different. Mike got the farthest seats back and paid for three seats meaning we had plenty of room to stretch out during the 2 hour trip. The breeze was cool as it wooshed through the open windows. I was having the time of my life as we left the cement towering buildings for lush green jungle.





When we arrived at Ibadan we connected with Mikes friend Niyi. He too lives in Lagos and escapes here on the weekends. We took a taxi to the local university where we checked the prices of a hotel. It was too expensive so as we talked down the sidewalk they told me Niyi's place is far (30 minutes) out of town. I told them that I would rather stay here and asked them if this was an option. They were surprised with this and quickly discovered that I wasn't the timid American they had expected.

NIYI

The breeze was so cool and soft as we walked to surprise Niyi's sister. Her and her husband live on campus because her husband is a professor of statistics. Kink, Niyi's nephew, bounded out of the opened door and wrapped himself around his legs in greeting. But, when he saw us he just as quickly darted back inside to his mothers safety. I'm constantly surprised by Nigerian hospitality. Here we were unexpected guests of three and his sister gives us rice and makrell in a spicy red sauce. My portion was heaping while Niyi and Mike shared. The guests always are treated like royalty, red carpet and all. I sat on the chair with the coffee table pulled up and in between bites held a very interesting conversation with another professor. Often I feel more like a student of life then a teacher. Surrounded by impromptu lectures either from my personal trainer about dating or my driver about helmet laws. This lecture was most interestingly about his personal achievements to create equality for the pregnant women or the crippled in the public transportation. I wanted to pick his knowledge like a bowl of popcorn and savor each bit of knowledge. However, the conversation was cut short by their leaving for an engagement and I was left to finish scooping the piles of rice and stew into my mouth.

After we feasted we left for Niyis house. Instead of taking a taxi like expected we started up the family car after checking the globes. They worked but dimly. The fact that we were given this car to use during our trip once again is a beautiful reminder of communal living that so naturally happens here. Something we in the West find so rarely. Something we in the West have a difficult time grasping. Something we in the West might be returning to due to the current recession.

On the way we drove by some loud music pumping out from a bar. Mike asked me if I would like to stop. I said sure as I'd been fixin to hear some live Nigerian music for a long time. The seating was outdoor and a live Ju Ju band was jamming on stage. There was a keyboard, three singers and a talking drum. Mixed together in such a way that it was hard to stay still. We didn't stay for long as my yawns were becoming deeper and more frequent.

We drove slowly because of the limited light from the globes. We left the main paved roads to a quieter pock mocked road that cut through stales all closed down for the night. When we pulled up to the house the guys insisted on taking care of my things while I just made my way in. After getting settled a bit we walked down some neighborhood pathes to find the local palm wine. When we reached the hut it had already been drunk. A few yawns latter they decided it was time to put me to bed and I didn't protest. They arranged for me to take a bath which washed away all the traces of sweat and dirt. The bathed with cool water and in a dark unlit bathroom. Having no towel I dried off with my underwear and went comando.

I slept well until the roster was wide awake and inviting everyone in proximity to join him. But, he didn't realize that I didn't request the 5:00 wake up call. He must have mistaken me for a nearby neighbor. After each startling cock a doodle doo I would easily drift back to sleep. Mike commented on the sounds being so much quieter here than in Lagos. For me it's the opposite. Life here starts about 6:00 or earlier. You're neighbors harmonious singing, the warning car horn and the bleating goats aren't heard on my compound.

Mike and Niyi were up a long time before I even saw them. They had gone and returned from visiting one of Mikes friends. Mike brought me along a souvenir of a African tooth brush. I know how to say it in Yuraba now, it sounds like Bako. The o is goes up and would have a dot above it. There is the same word Bako which means wood but this word would have a dot underneath the o signally your voice to go lower at the o. Yuraba is a tonal language like Madrin and the same spelling of word can be pronounced four different ways depending on the way you say it.



I chewed up the Bako with my back grinding teeth. The bark had a minty taste and I swallowed it because it would help settle my runny tummy. Once the stick is shreaded like bristles you brush with it. The chewing was relaxing and left my stomach feeling more settled.

Niyi had to find a mechanic to fix the cars silencer which was a tricky task for a Saturday morning. But, once that was accomplished we loaded up for the days adventures. First we stopped by a local stream where Niyi rembered swimming as boy and as if to prove his memory there were a group of seven boys splashing and paddling in the shallow waters. When Mike held up the camera they called out "Camera! Camera!" and took their best poses.





Next, we went to a garden complete with a variety of monkeys. While it was entertaining seeing the monkey grab Niyi's milk bottle and hand over hand pass it to a bigger portion of his cage, then stick out his bulbous lips to collect the sweet nectar, it was also sad. The animals were hungry and lived in such dingy, tiny environments. My favorite part was seeing all the bats. There were millions of them swooping and diving through the air. Their chatter was constant and drew any lingering eyes upwards. There was a man hunting them by sling shot. Mike tried to get me a chance at shooting but the man said no. Later when walking back we found him on the path. His bag was sagging and had blood stains soaking through. I asked him if I could see one of the bats. With a limp head and bigger than expected body he brought out one. Mike challenged me to hold it so he could take my picture. I was surprised with how leathery and smooth the wings were and how fragile the long fingers felt. It wasn't gross at all.







Even after all of this activity the day had really just begun. We loaded into the car again and made a quick stop at a Chicken Republic which is a fast food joint. On the way to the toilet I grabbed a handful of napkins just in case, but was pleasantly surprised with the cleanness and well stocked bathroom. I scarfed down a chicken sandwich that looked nothing like the menu picture but tasted so good. And we were off on the road again. This time heading to another state called Effe. This is where Niyi went to school. On the way up we stopped by the pot holed road for some Moi Moi which is fried bean cakes. When we pulled over Niyi told me that every night these holes are redug and made worse because it forces people to go slowly through the area. There are tons of stales and roadside shops lining the road which profit off the road condition.


Before entering the university Mike asked if I would like to drive. Sure! Why not? This road was free of monster holes and ignored traffic signs. I drove us to a closed museum and then to a zoo and then to a bar for some refreshment.




On Sunday after a yummy lunch of melon soup and emela (which is like cream of wheat but made with yams or cassava) Mike and loaded back into a public bus and headed home to Lagos. The bus was all packed except for one person so we waited for about 30 hour and then headed off with a full load.


I had a great time and were impressed with the hospitality of my two Nigerian brothers. They outdo anything I've experienced any where else. We have a couple more trips planned for the next available weekend and all of us are looking forward to more adventures together.