With the challenge of technology comes this delayed video from Lagos... no, it was not filmed at the beginning of the 20th century. My writings and postings have been as slow as uploading these videos onto YouTube. I am now in Ukraine... a lot to share. This video was shot on February 6
Unlike Chinua Achebe who has an Ibo (Igbo) tradition from Nigeria's South East,Wole Soyinka has a Yorùbá cultural heritage from the Lagos region. He was the first African to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1986 for his extense work. In 1959 he published his comedy The Lion and the Jewel which I depict here. An amusing short play filled with colour, sense of space and creativity.
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Blowfish expand like globes. They are cute water versions of porcupines. Nevertheless, I would have never expected to stay at a hotel with this name. I did in Lagos. Everyone locally calls it the Blue Fish, it sounds more pristine and inviting. I agree. I have never scratched the surface of a blowfish but I imagine surprises. That’s what I have found at this relatively small boutique hotel in the heart of Victoria Island. It is so secluded that it has no sign on the door (apparently you pay a lot of money for such signs in Nigeria); so one enters the place like a secret guest through the garage front door.
Bright pink external walls, the Blowfish invites you with its furniture, its many bellmen, porters and other uniformed staff. Wow, it seems like it is going to be a good stay! Oh, wait a minute… my newly assigned tiny room hasn’t been cleaned, it looks like somebody just got up… and the toilet, oh no… what happened? Not a nice welcoming ceremony. Ok, after a few minutes, the baby-looking manager with an Arab accent comes to my rescue. He apologizes a million times and ‘upgrades’ me to a corner room where I can actually walk a bit. I like the windows facing the street and I settle down for one night. The internet is not working… but it must be down for now, maybe tomorrow. But tomorrow never comes. I cannot even see the wireless network on the list of available ones. I’ll have to live for 4 days without access to my inbox. My consolation, phones and blackberries work just fine.
I find this hotel a resemblance of the two extreme realities of our world. On one hand a very wealthy elite who “enjoys” the benefits of good food, fine shelter, and a social life. On the other, the vast majority a nation (and many nations), working hard to please that elite, trying to make ends meet (sometimes at whatever cost).
The Blowfish administration is trying to fill the gap between those ends. Good luck! And here we are, westerners, asking for lotion in the bathroom, clean water, reliable internet… when I complain about the service I am left with this bitter sense of guilt inside… How can I dare to ask for more?
The same combo goes for luxury cars driving on dirt roads and the poorest people talking on cell phones. We forget, I forget, how this is, because in Canada things seem much different. Although, we can always scratch the surface, and dig a little deeper to find out that the poor will always be there and be more than we imaines (ask the organizers of the Vancouver Olympics). We are sitting on a very privileged chair in a small dining room. Although… chairs can always tumble and fall…
I wrote this in the silence of my secluded fortress: “In the open night, abandoned at their mercy and with no tail to rid them of mosquitoes, two men lay down on a straw mat. Instead, they scratch their legs with their toe nails. Their dusty sandals as pillows. The heavens as the infinite end they could sink into. They try to sleep. They toss around while the palm trees hardly move. The only street light in their faces is a reminder of the cement floor on which they try to rest. They are lying on the backyard of a big house besides a shiny Land Rover. The humid air weighing on their shirtless bodies. They evaporate in sweat. Rub their chests with naked hands. Once in a while, get up to pray… on the same mat. They kneel and stand, kneel and stand with silent prayers. They also play with the keypad on their cell phones. They call people and throw laughs around in retaliation. They seem restless. They go out onto the road to shake hands with other pals. They piss on the walls. I see them through the window of my air conditioned room on the third floor. I wonder when they are going to start the next revolution. And I see motorcycles stop. People chat. Passing cars give me snapshots of life with their beam lights. I see hollow roads, and moving shadows that bounce around. I hear ghosts of the past; I see spirits of the present. And they talk with loud enthusiasm and even smoke despite the pressing heat. But the sounds of engines swallow any singing”.
Requirement of the day: reliable internet and laundry. Share
I am finally in Lagos. A bit tired after a long day. The city welcomes me with the humid heat of a port. The Virgin Nigeria flight was short, calm, full and relatively on time. Adekoya waves at me with the Canadian Embassy sign. He will drive Tushar (a colleague) and myself to the Blowfish hotel. Vendors on the street, blowing horns, taxi drivers wave some kind of an ID at us. We drive through the crowds as if we were celebrities. A huge green billboard displays a beautiful woman and a Nigerian flag. It prays: “Be still and know that I am God”. This city is anything but still: Women carrying kids beg through the traffic, many sell water, a young girl signals cars to stop as she crosses the busy road with a tray of fruit on her head. Welcome to the buzzing Lagos, largest city in Nigeria.
Soon after we drive out of humanity to enter a long highway… It could be Buenos Aires, Shanghai, Ho Chi Min City or anywhere in India as Tushar states. The road is bumpy but steady and we advance like a sail boat in the sea. As we get off the free way we enter a higher-end neighbourhood, we see a mall, we pass by the higher buildings and end up across from a garage door: That’s the blowfish; almost a pension, a boutique hotel.
P.S. I just Watched the video and noticed it didn't upload properly... darn... I can see it well on my computer. Oh well... Things Fall Apart, what better conclusion...I'll try to fix it soon, for now I think it is fun!... Cheers).
As I wait for a chicken and avocado sandwich in my room, I lose faith in blogging tonight. The internet is not working. Neither was my first room. They assigned me one that hadn’t been clean. The benefit of my complaint was an upgrade, but it came with a price, no internet on sight… I have also lost my faith in recovering my camera. The local Lufthansa people told me "it had not been found". I hope whoever has it, can do wonders with it. It contains my latest video from the Frankfurt-Abuja flight… where I was sharing the clouds with all of you. What can one do? Just move on. My webcam seems to be in conflict with YouTube and I burnt a converter last night… I just hope I can share my Nigerian books with you before I depart on Sunday. My chicken and avocado has arrived. And as I am starving I will stop for a little while. The fries are very salty but my palate doesn’t seem to mind.
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Some technical difficulties and a loss… but here I am. I have arrived in Abuja, capital city of Nigeria. It is my first time visiting West Africa. As we flew over the Mediterranean sea and entered Africa through Tunisia and Morocco (waving to my friends P+B)... my interest in the dessert grew. The flight satellite image looked like this massive extension of yellowish/orange land that ended on a green bank… Nigeria. Desserts are maegestic (Sheila, you should follow your dad steps and tell us that story...) I am a bit sad because I left my video camera on the plane. That means that I may not be able to video blog the way I had planned. The unexpected happened… I was just wondering what everything had gone so smooth… I have this idiosyncratic believe that there’s always a stone in the shoe… perhaps because I know how distracted I can be. I can pack the perfect suitcase and forget the most important item from my list… oh darn! So far so good. Entering Nigeria was simple, friendly, easy. Yes, it was warm but manageable; and the Canadian embassy people were there waiting for us. I got a new phone SIM card and exchanged some US into Naira. Two things I forgot to bring: a 3 leg converter (those which look like fridge plugs) and my iPod charger. The hotel is ok, and the Tuesday’s seafood buffet was great as well as the local beer, Star. I can hear the reggae like music on the different patios. I swear I heard Spanish Salsa music on the elevator before. I am now fighting with the internet connection for the service to work. It did earlier on but now it is simply dead… and I called the front desk to ask for assistance and they promised to call me back… 10 minutes ago. I slept on the plane and listened to music; but also finished my first book by a Nigerian author. I shall talk about it tomorrow. It was fun. I also started a play by another famous Nigerian author (clue: he has one of the most amazing hair-dues... can you guess?). I can already see some similarities between the two storytellers. What does this city smell like? Hard to say. It’s a combination of smells: the air conditioning, fried sweet plantains, sweat combined with expensive perfume, liquor, serene forest breeze. What does it feel like? It feels like things work but at their own pace. People are way friendly but extremely laid back. They do their minimum possible as not to stress and assure you everything is going to be fine. I kind of like that. They are pretty, well groomed, some men tall and strong; women play with their hair and their hips. They greet you as you pass by, but not with the Asian ceremony… it is more like a next-door neighbour type of attitude. Fela Kuti (from Wikipedia) was born in 1938 and left this world in August 1997. He was a Nigerian multi-instrumentalist musician and composer, pioneer of afrobeat music, human rights activist, and political maverick. He's been my friend and travel companion since S and I watched The Visitor a couple of year ao. Here goes excentric Fela!
And of course, the movie of the day: The visitor (2008) directed by Thomas McCarthy. If you've watched the TV series "Six Feet Under" you will recognize Mr. Richard Jenkins who plays cold Professor Walter Vale. Share
I land in Frankfurt before dawn. I see snow on the airport tarmac for the first time. I had never been to Germany in the winter-winter. I am surprisingly not as sleepy as I should be. I cross customs with ease and walk to the train station instinctively. I've been using this route for quite sometime now and know my way quite well (although this airport seems to be under constant construction). Germans are friendly at a distance. They look at you with neutral eyes (they may wonder about your existence but won't hesitate to show it).
As I walk on ice to my destination I decide to stop at a corner on kandleStrasse... to shoot. My question of the day is a controversial one, that some of us may dare to wonder about at times... is God dead? or is he/she alive? Nietzsche got into this dilemma and he stated it in "Thus spoke Zarathustra", a slightly complicated read, that as most philosphical accounts, leaves one with more questions than possible answers. This novel was published between 1883 and 1885 and besides its remark on the "funeral of the deity" it also deals with a theme I found amazing at the time: the "eternal recurrence of the same". Inspired by Nietzsche, I wrote a short story that I included in my novel Humanum (2001). It is entitled 'David y su Eterno Retorno'. Thus spoke Zarathustra is much denser and esoteric, Nietzsche uses the style of the Bible in order to oppose Christian and Jewish morality and tradition... an interesting concept.
Dusk is hitting Frankfurt and I am going back home to share with my warm hosts. I'll try to be on my blog as much as I can. I am leaving to Abuja tomorrow before noon.
My tip of the day: the best remedy for jet-lag is a good coffee, a short nap, a couple of tylenols and waiting... waiting, waiting as long as you can before going to bed at night. I'll let you know how it works. Cheers!
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No matter how far a specific date may seem, that day will arrive... time never stops. When I was a kid I used to see the year 2000 as a distant moment in the far future. I knew I would be 28 at the time, and in my mind that seemed like an eternity! Well, the year 2000 came along and is now long gone; in fact, it's been a decade ever since (you do the math). Days inevitably arrive and the 31 of January, 2010 is now here. What does it mean? My trip to Africa and Russia is imminent. I farewell Ottawa on a warmer day (-5 degrees). My first destination: Frankfurt, as a via point on my way to Abuja, capital of Nigeria. My author of the day is Herman Hesse, whom I thought to be a pure German but he happens to be a Swiss depsite his Black Forest birth in Southern West Germany. Journey to the East (published in 1932 as "Die Morgenlandfahrt)is a relatively short novel that involves famous characters such as Plato, Mozart, Pythagoras, Paul Klee, Don Quixote, and Baudelaire. They are all involved in this search-for-ultimate truth journey. "Truth" (as we may know) is a controversial word often charged with heavy expectations. Philosophy can certainly theorize about it, and Hesse does it quite well... but the truth about Truth is mirage. I like journeys. They imply a great deal of learning and adventure. I am about to visit four countries I have never been to. I am glad I am starting in Frankfurt; a place that has become familiar to me, since it is an easy stop on the way to Africa and Eastern Europe. Frankfurt is the hometown of Goethe... another big thinker of our times... wished I had a moment to re-visit "his" house in the heart of the city. I am a bit tired but not as jet-lagged as I thought I would be.
My tip of the day: Read on planes, it shortens distances and brighthens one's night. If you can accompany it with music... I recommend 'Bose' headsets and a good iPod playlist!
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