Strange but true, the largest church in the world is in the middle of nowhere in Ivory Coast - in the town of Yamoussoukro. The basilica was completed in 1989 at a cost of US$300 million. It's design is inspired by the Basilica of Saint Peter in Vatican city. It was consecrated by Pope John Paul II. The basilica has an area of 30,000 sq metres (322,917 sq ft) and is 158 m (518 ft) high. It can accommodate 18,000 worshipers. Less than a third of Côte d'Ivoire's population are Christian, and most services conducted at the basilica are attended by only a few hundred people. It is a true white elephant but one worth seeing if you are ever in Ivory Coast. It is really impressive. Enough words - time for some pics. My last day in Ivory Coast was spent well.
World cup in Abidjan
World cup is here! World cup fever is real and exciting. I went to the market to get my $2 manicure and $2 pedicure in the colors of the Ivorian team - Les Elephants. Such excitement. One of my Abidjan friends took me. She bought some live crabs at the market and I thought that was bravery - walking around with a a plastic bag of live crabs. The crabs thought that was bravery too and as punishment for that they poked her when we were in the cab. Such things only happen in Abidjan.
Opening ceremony of World Cup! I was freaking excited - googled where to go (now that I had decided to rid myself of all expensive and diva-esque company while I was in Abidjan.) I was going to watch it alone! I found myself at a sports bar called Stade de France. I liked the vibe as soon as I got in. The owner bought everyone a round of beers - when I got in there were around 10 people there. A few beers later I ended up winning a t-shirt for drinking a certain type of beer. The night ended with me taking shots with some friendly girls from Mali and Senegal. I slept smiling that night.
Breaking up is never easy....ok, this one was though:-)
At some point in Abidjan I realized I needed to shed off my "friends" but was not sure how to. They were useful in terms of keeping me company when I wanted to do things, but I realized that their company came at a price. First a monetary price and second at the expense of my fun. I need to say that my couchsurfing host and her family were exempt from what I am about to say. With them we had a very symbiotic relationship. It was with all the other miscellaneous people that I realized I was their benefactor. Yes, they would want to come out with me but they would never pay a bill. To make matters worse, posing is quite common in Abidjan. As such I would be the one paying the bills everywhere we went and people would not have the decency to finish their food or their very expensive drinks. It's considered cool to be wasteful. "I'm so rich that I order bottles of whisky in the club then decide i'm bored and leave the bottle almost full." It was getting on my last nerve.
One Friday one of these hanger-ons came to my place, we pregamed and went clubbing. On my tab, the girl decided to be moody. That was common too - be fun in the house then become an absolute party-pooper diva once at the club. I was tired! We went to a dance club called "Club pink." Her spirits lifted there and we had a fun night of dancing. Some French guy saw me about to take a shot and came to explain to me how to take tequila shots. I was irritated. I know how to take tequila shots, dummy! I could have written the book.
If Friday was an annoying night, Saturday was to be the epitome. The whole crowd came to pregame at my place - which I really didn't mind. They all only wanted to have a drink or two. When we went to the club though, they ordered a bottle (even though we had left many in the house) and only sipped a bit of it before deciding they were bored. I was livid. They had not realized that my French was improving. In the taxi, one of the girls was saying "Elle est tres riche!" "She's rich!" That is when I confirmed that they did in fact think of me as an ATM. At the next club I refused to pay a cent for the bottle they ordered - as I did not want any part of it. I told them I was leaving for another club. They were so surprised. I left them and their bottle and I went to Club 40. It was empty and I finally went home. I was happy I had made a statement. I have no idea how I became "that guy" - the one who is wining and dining 5 girls and getting absolutely nothing out of it.
Heeeeeee! Heeeee! I can laugh now.
Reggae and sharwamas in Abidjan
This Saturday I met up with my Canadian friend to go clubbing with him, his workmate and his workmate's wife. We went to a reggae place. I took a tax there and was not sure I was at the right place until I smelt weed at the entrance - then I knew I had arrived:-) Reggae clubs the world over have some signature scents:-)
The reggae music was nice. After that we decided to go clubbing, but were not able to get to the club because my friend's workmate was wearing sneakers. Thus ended the night. The next day though a few of us went to a Lebanse place on Rue le jardin called Automatique. It's rumored to have the best sharwamas in Abidjan. After that we went for a few drinks at a Marquee.
Oh, one funny story. One night I went out with my couchsurfing host (Esther) and another cousin of hers. I had noticed that women in Abidjan had very strange eating habits - they ate very little. I had also noticed that everyone seemed extremely self-conscious about their weight. What I had not yet noticed was that I was their new fat friend:-) A few drinks later, Esther's cousin whose stick-thin figure/Victoria Beckham angles I was a bit freaked out by, decided I needed an intervention. "Ciku, do you know I used to be your size." I thought to myself "lucky you. What happened?" Then the skinny heifer continues "Then I went on a diet and voila - here I am - all 2 dimensional. I can send you the diet." I was horrified - did this girl really think that she could give me health and weight advice? I work out 3 days a week, I eat healthy, I love my curves! Clearly thin is in in Abidjan - I should arrange an exchange program to Kenya where they will realize that I am average size here. Mschew!
Taking Abidjan matters into my own hands - success!
It was a Friday - I had decided to end my life as an Abidjan couch potato, and go out to enjoy the nightlife. I ended up in a really swanky looking club called Club 40. There were lots of Hammers and Bentleys in the parking lot. That should have been the first sign that this place was not going to be cheap. I had had a few drinks before leaving the house so as to keep my partying budget low. I got to the bar and ordered a red bull - which cost me $11. I almost fainted. I looked around and on every table people had bottles of Moet. Where does all this money in Abidjan come from? Club 40 had great music, but given their crazy prices I decided I was going to try out a few more clubs for the night. After finishing my $11 red bull I hopped into a taxi to another part of town - Treshville. All Treshville clubs were so dead. I then cabbed to another part of town - Zone 4 - the clubs here were also dead. I ended up going back to Club 40 - content to drink one or 2 more red bulls......really.....really....really...slowly then call it a night.
When I got back to the club I was welcomed happily by the bouncer. "Tu est revenu!" "You have come back!" Yes I have. I was getting some sort of VIP treatment - no idea why. I was taken to a private(ish) area of the club and was sitted next to African Beyonce and African Rihanna. I kid you not, these 2 women were clones of the two - even up to their weaves, nails etc. They even had the same complexion - which is obviously shades lighter than the average Ivorian complexion. From behind my red bull glass I kept on stealing glances at them to see how they were made. The complexion was the most baffling - usually when people have bleached it is easy to know by the pasty complexion, dark knuckles etc. I think these girls were on the Vera Sidika regimen - this color looked like the color they were born in - except for the fact that it likely was not the color they were born in. This was my first encounter with Ivorian socialites. One even had a boob job....in Africa:-) I was a bit amused.
I'm not sure exactly how we started talking to each other. Before I knew it, we were friends and they had invited me to share with them their endless supply of Moet bottles. I was the full villager enjoying my Hollywood lifestyle for that night. Bit by bit I learnt that they were sisters. One of them was dating some famous Ivorian footballer while my understanding was that African Rihanna mostly served the political class. They were all sorts of mystical, but I was fascinated. I met a few more of their friends. We ended up partying the night away and many hours later they invited me back to their hotel for an afterparty. I followed African Rihanna to her massive car (I sometimes wish I was those people who really knew cars, for then I would have told you all what type it was...) We went their massive suite at Sofitel Luxury hotel, and had Moet and eggs for breakfast.
That was a hilarious night - my first and last of hanging out with wealthy Ivorian socialites. After that I chose to hang out only with people whose occupations were clear. This was especially after I learnt how there is quite a few drug trafficking and cyber crime moguls in Abidjan...I really did not want to get mixed up in any funny business - even if it came with unlimited Moet:-)
First night of partying alone in Abidjan - a true success:-)
Taking Abidjan matters into my own hands - first attempt
I am a restless individual - I know it and embrace it. After a few weeks in Abidjan of not really going out except if invited to plans I decided to take matters into my own hands. I will go out alone, dammit! I can't be in Abidjan and only going out when others are able to go out. Before I made this decision though, I had a fun weekend. Esther invited me for a friend's birthday party. We had lots of fun - started off by pregaming at hers, then going to the club. I danced and danced and danced. Coupe decale is my obsession. This was a Saturday. On the Sunday, Esther and her friend picked me up and took me for Zouglou in Yopugon. I enjoyed it but mostly because of company. To be honest Zouglou is too slow for me. I much prefer coupe decale and it's amazing quick fire beats.
We were home by 10pm after Zouglou. On Monday I made my plans. I got a taxi guy's number. I got all dressed up and told him to take me clubbing. We went to Zone 4, but luck was not on my side. I went to 3-4 clubs and all of them were deader than a dodo. I did not give up. I decided to revisit the partying plan on another night.
On Tuesday I spent a particularly awkward evening at Esther's cousins place. Her old Italian husband was visiting and she had cooked up a storm. She was also with another friend whose old Italian husband was visiting. I was not quite sure why I was invited to this dinner, which one would have expected to be an intimate dinner of sorts. This was one of the times I wished my French was better. I cannot tell which couples were feuding and why, but it was a very uncomfortable dinner. I tried to leave before food was served (in case there was a sort of misunderstanding - and somehow I was imposing on them, but they insisted I stay.) They were eating some very fancy fish and I still think it was accidental that I was there, but i'm not quite sure why I was invited. I was quite happy to get home. My new friends were really warm and accommodating, but that night I really felt I should not have been there.
Abidjan house party!
I spent a few idle days in Abidjan - French, swimming, reading, french, swimming, reading repeat. The one highlight was getting news from Nairobi that copies of my novel "Of goats and poisoned oranges" had finally made it to Bookstop. Finally I decided that what I needed was to throw a good ol' house party chez moi to expand my social circle. I assumed this would be an easy feat - buy lots of drinks, have good music and voila! Party! Turns out though that parties in Abidjan do not go like that. Food is a must at a party. I told people to arrive around 6pm. I was therefore surprised when my couchsurfing host came to my place at 11am to find out how party preparations were going. "Everything ok?" "Yeah definitely. I'm going to buy liquor after my French class." "Uhm, what dishes are you making?" "Hmmmm, as in food? None, was just planning to have it be a drinks party." "Uhhhhh, that will not fly. Everyone is expecting lots and lots of food." "What? I never promised food?" "But you did call it a party....here a party involves proper food." "Oh, snap."
Suffice it to say, the day was saved, and not thanks to me. Esther (my couchsurfing host) told me to cancel her French class, called her cousins to my place to shop for food and cook. Me and her hopped into a taxi into a far off part of town where drinks were really cheap. We stocked up on that a lot. I thought she was underestimating how many drinks we needed. She said she had invited around 20 people and was saying we only needed to buy 2 bottles of red wine, 2 of white and a bottle of rum. I doubled up on everything...just in case.
By the time we got home, the cooking of 5 or 6 dishes was underway. I was so impressed by how competent people were in cooking quickly. Preparing all those dishes would have taken me a few days:-)
People came, they ate, they drank (very little actually - I was left with most of the drinks intact.) This was definitely not a Kenyan houseparty. 90% of the Kenyan houseparties I have been to have loads of drinks but still run out by 1am. I guess the average Kenyan is more of a lush than the average Ivorian. People also brought coupe decale cds and we danced a lot. All in all it was a fun(ish) houseparty. On a scale of 1-10, it was maybe a 6.5. When the party had reached its natural conclusion, Esther and I were to go out clubbing, but something came up and she had to leave. At 3am, I cleared up, washed up etc. (You do not want to play with the roaches in Abidjan - cause of the heat they appear immediately guests leave....I never ever let any dishes sleep in the sink...I have a morbid fear of roaches.)
I really wanted to go out, but no one else was going out. I was soon going to be disabused of the notion that I could only go clubbing with company in Abidjan.
Zouglou (a type of music) in Yopugon (a place)
Today my Canadian friend called me around 5pm and asked what I was up to. I was actually just chilling at home and reading a book. He told me that in 15 minutes him and a few friends would be at my place to pick me up to go for Zouglou (a type of music) at Yopugon (a place.) I was obviously excited about this plan that I had never heard about. I got ready as quickly as I could (noting that when he called me I was sitting on the couch wearing my pyjamas and reading my kindle....proper chillaxing.)
They got to my place and unfortunately I made them wait around 10 minutes for try as I could I just could not shower, change and get my make up done in 15 minutes. Usually I can, but in this case I spent the first 5 minutes thinking of what to wear - which is quite silly actually as I didn't have that many clothes in Abidjan.
My Canadian friend was introduced to me by a Kenyan friend in Canada. He's Caribbean-Canadian - I can't quite remember what island though. He's a teacher in an international school in Abidjan. I went downstairs - him and 2 of his colleagues were there. We drove to Yopugon which was around 50 minutes away. We got into Yopugon which had more marquees (bars, shops and restaurants) than houses. It definitely looked like a place with a fun nightlife.
We got to the Yopugon spot and it was a large field with tables set up and a huge stage upfront. Beer was sold in buckets - one ordered a big bucket with beers and ice. Food was sold nearby. The two colleagues of my friend left for a while and came back with delicious chicken, alloco (fried bananas), fish etc. I enjoyed the experience because I was with fun people, but I realize that the music was not my type. Zouglou in contrast to Coupe Decale is kind of slow and kind of very old school sounding. I like my beats fast and my bass down low:-) During the songs there were a lot of Ivorian jokes (of course in French). Most if not all of them passed me - swish...just like that....Giggle giggle, but i have no idea what has just been said.
Many many beers later I was dropped home at 11pm.
Shopping and having guests in Abidjan
After my traumatic day at the market I spent a few days chilling at home. I did my French classes, went swimming a few days. I found lots of kids when swimming - which is always a challenge. Combine my shortsightedness with children who jump into the water without looking who is there and what you get is a very nerve-wracking swimming experience. On top of that, the water was heavily chlorinated. After a half hour swim my eyes were stinging. I decided to go to Sococe (the main mall near my home) and buy swimming goggles. I had seen a sports shop at the place. When I got to Sococe I decided to go to the supermarket to check it out (the idle things one can do when on vacation/sabbatical:-)
I have to say that I was pretty amazed at the supermarket to find not one or two but 5 aisles of wine. That's how I remembered I was in a Francophone country. Aisles and aisles of wine organized by the part of France it came from - Marseille, Bordeaux etc. I was amazed. I'm not a wine expert in any way - far from it, but I had to sit and admire.
I went home and cooked ginger chicken and some matoke (potatoes, cooked bananas, carrots etc.) I made some bissap - fresh hibiscus juice made with petals from my visit to the hectic market.
The next day I had my couchsurfing host and her niece over for brunch. They were to come at 10am, but showed up at 11:30:-) By this time I should have known better than to expect people to show up at the time they said.
The next day I had a Canadian friend of a friend over for drinks. We were to go out partying but got too lazy and ended up instead drinking and watching music videos at my place.
The market in Abidjan that almost turned me into a vegetarian...
My friends, let me tell you about this one day in Abidjan when I went to what might be the most terrifying market in the world (at least of all that I have gone to.) Suffice it to say I only went there once - and only once in my 2 months in Abidjan. Abobo market in Northern Abidjan - eish, there is only one.
My sweet couchsurfing host had said that the best market for me to get anything and everything under the sun was in Abobo market. I planned to simply take a taxi by myself to this market, but my friend kept on insisting that I let her know when I was planning to go, so that she could send someone to chaperone me. I felt like I was taking advantage of her kindness and thought to myself, "surely, I don't need someone to take me to the market." I was wrong. One morning my friend told me her cousin would take me to the market. I initially thought her cousin was going to the market either way and was going to join me. I later realized that her sole purpose of going to the market was to take me there....Really really kind people.
8am - my friend's cousin (Marie) comes to my place - we hop into a taxi - ride for 15 minutes, then jump out and jump into a minivan (I lie - not really a minivan - it was a "face me brother".) Anyone who ever plied the South B to South C route circa early 1990s would know what a face me brother is. Definitely not for those who like comfort...and avoiding eye contact....and abhor close physical contact with strangers. Marie only spoke a few words of English. I had my shopping list and my dictionary. I spent quality time in the face-me-brother translating my list into French so that our time at the market would be easier. ...ginger - Le gingembre...spices - les epices...ok.
10am - Finally get to the market. Chaos, chaos, chaos. Mikokoteni (hand carts) swinging past us! Fait attention! Lots of people, human traffic, surrounded by many vendors trying to get you to their stall. "Madamoiselle! Madamoiselle!" Turning to see women speaking to me in rapid French (none of which I could understand) but pushing buckets with live crabs to my face. Panic! Fear! Anything could happen here. Marie, where is Marie? Oh gosh, we've been separated. I see her off in the distance looking for me. MARIE!! MARIE! Here here! Pushing past women waving fish that look like snakes at me. "Non! Non! Merci! Non! Non! Merci!" Oh Lord, why did I want to come to the market again? I'm not built for chaotic situations with aggressive vendors yelling at me in a language I barely understand. Holding hands with Marie and not letting her leave my side. If I get lost here, I don't even know how to get home? How do I even find the face-me-brothers for my route? Woi, French kangez (touts)...Will I even know what is being said? Pleaaaaaaaase don't leave me! Pleaaaaase don't leave me.
11am - We have survived the main veggie section and are now going deep into the heart of the market - to the meat section...Jesus! What were those women with the buckets of crabs in our faces if not the meat section? Rogue traders? You mean there is another part of the market that has more meat than where we were? I will not leave this market alive. Getting there. The ground is wet and splashy. Looks down - fish offal floating in muddy water...animal intestines all over the place...Fight the gag reflex! Fight it! You cannot throw up here - it's already gross enough - last thing it needs is the ground covered with fish eyes, animal offals and puke...Looking around - seeing all sorts of gross looking meat. Pig legs....cow heads...fish with human heads. Jesus! I can't! Can we just leave the market? Marie: Ciku do you like this fish? (as she holds a full fish in front of me. Ciku: (thinking quietly to myself) Can I really ever eat meat again? Why does the fish have scales and wings?? Wings? No, thinking back to primary school science book - pectoral fin, dorsal fin etc....Oh my god! Those are fins? Maybe I have never actually seen a fish in its just-been-killed-but-not-prepared-for-human-consumption-capacity? Marie: Here, look - the way to tell if it's fresh is to look at the gills. Come - touch it. Ciku (thinking to myself) : Gasp! I have to touch the raw fish to see if it's fresh? Gills - gross!!! Is this fear factor? Ciku to Marie: I trust your judgement....
11:45am - Marie: Now we go get le poulet, Ciku: Ah c'est parfait! Chicken I understand. It cannot be as terrifying as the fish place.
Cluck! Cluck! Cluck! What's that noise? Oh Lord! The chicken is not yet cut into 1/8s, cleaned up and rid of all funny body parts (head, feet, intestines etc)? You want me to point to a live chicken - play the role of judge and executioner and say "that one! Kill that one - off with his head!" Ok - that one! God no - not that one - he's looking at me with pitiful eyes - ok the other one...Oh, this is evil. Can I really eat a chicken when I am responsible for its untimely death? Ciku to Mr. Chicken guy: (pointing to my head) remove that! (pointing to my stomach) pull that out! I throw imaginary intestines to the stomach to dramatize just how much I don't want them to end up with them....This guy! Seriously he doesn't understand my dramatization...Ok, let's try again "I want you to Marie Antoinette this chicken!" Get that? No head! No head! No, I do not want you to put the head, intestines and feet in another plastic bag for me. I never want to see them again - ever!
Noon: Mr. Chicken guy comes back with a black paperbag that hopefully contains the chicken, as he points to his bleeding hand. I accidentally cut up my hand as I was chopping up your chicken - hands bloody paperbag to Ciku. Which of this is is chicken blood and which is human blood?
12:15pm - We struggle to leave the market. "Madamoiselle! Madamoiselle!" Pails of snails in my face - huge huge snails! "Madamoiselle! Escargot!" Non, non!
12:30pm - In a taxi with Marie, homebound. Enough with this face-me-brother business. We have had a tough day....Let's splurge on a taxi ride. We have earned it.
1pm: At home. Marie: Ciku, let me descale the fish for you and remove all the unwanted pieces. I will also wash the chicken with vinegar for you to fix the blood situation, Ciku: God bless your soul! I was already having nightmares of having to have closer contact with that meat other than flinging it directly from a paperbag into a cooking pot.
1:30pm: Ciku naps and has recurring nightmares of fish with human heads, a chicken in the afterlife with judging eyes that has prayed that due to my sins I will come back in my next lifetime as a crab scampering out of a bucket in Abobo or a snail thinking of the good old days before someone discovered we are edible. Vows to become a vegetarian.
Fait attention! The ocean will finish you!
Today we went to the beach that is around an hour away from Abidjan. African timing is a problem. I was told to be ready at 8am - which of course I was, but I was picked up at 10:15am.....I should know better. The first leg of the journey included a few of us taking a taxi. After that we then got into a matatu (minivan) which then finally dropped us off a half hour's walk from the beach (why there were no matatus that took you closer to the beach, I just don't know.) In the matatu, our two lovebird friends kept on kissing - I was no longer shy or awkward about it. I just assumed that daylight PDA in Francophone countries is ok. Can you imagine people kissing in a matatu at 2pm in Nairobi? You would be stared at badly and someone would likely take out a bible and read a verse or two aloud on immorality...heeee heeee!!
The half hour walk to the beach was lovely. It was a pleasant day and we were all in a carefree mode. When we finally got to the beach hotel - I felt peaceful. I love being anywhere next to a large water body - ocean, lake, river - I draw energy from it. We spent a leisurely day swimming, eating, swimming, eating, horseriding etc. Lunch was delicious! I had fresh fish and one of the people in our group had frog's legs. Yeah I know! My first thought was "frog's legs???? Yikes!" Shock on me as his food arrived and it was so delicious - I ate quite a few frog's legs (silently wondering what happens to the rest of the body - is there a market that sells legless frogs?? God knows.) They looked and tasted like chicken wings. I don't know if I was expecting them to be green and creepy looking (ok, for sure I was expecting them to be green and creepy looking, but they weren't.)
I spent a bit more time swimming in the pool by the ocean, but some stalker guy was beginning to get on my nerves. I love swimming and don't like people trying to have conversations with me in the pool. I came to swim, not to be hit on:-) Oh, sidenote though - everyone at the pool and the beach had some serious beach bodies! Ivorians don't play - abs, ripped chests....lots of eye candy around.
I really wanted to swim in the ocean, but so far we had only been swimming in the pool. Everyone kept on saying "The ocean is dangerous - be very careful." I was a bit cocky and thinking to myself "Amateurs....I swim a minimum of 50 lengths everytime I go swimming - I am not scared of the ocean." I should have really paid attention to them. As I walked to the ocean they still told me "Ciku fait attention! Ciku be careful." I calmly walked to the water and in the next minute or so I saw my life flash before my very own eyes. What a stupid death it would have been. "We warned her about the ocean, but she was obstinate." I have never been manhandled by water like that. As soon as I got into the water, crazy huge waves came knocked me off my feet and submerged me. Every time I tried to stand up another wave would come and try to finish me off. I was struggling underwater, drinking water, overwhelmed. When I finally managed to get back up and on solid ground I went back to my friends. "How was it?" "It was ok, but I will just swim in the pool - it's kinda boring swimming alone in the ocean." I could not tell them the truth for I would surely deserve the "I told you so's" that would come my way:-)
That night I slept like a baby when I got home. My final thought as I gave in to sleep was "So that is how even strong swimmers drown - not all waves are created equal." It was a humbling experience.
Playing house, Abidjan style
I spent a semi-relaxed day at the house. I planned to wake up late, but at 8am the driver showed up to drop off some additional towels for me. Early risers will wake you up for the most miscellaneous reasons under the sky. Some people will call you up at 7am just to say hi. Thekenyanexplorer is never up that early - unless there is an emergency. If you are one of those people, you have been warned. At that time in the morning I became a monster - kind of like a gremlin that got wet or was fed past the right time. Later in the day though I am a sweet warm cuddly furry creature (furriness really depending on the last time I visited the waxologist:-)
Later in the afternoon Esther (my couchsurfing host) and Eno (her guitar playing neighbour) visited me and brought me lunch. They knew I hadn't cooked. Such sweet people! I planned to go to the market but got late. There was however a small market next to my apartment where I was able to get fruits and veggies from. For dinner, I made a nice salad and beef. I ate dinner watching "Rich kids of Beverly hills" in French. They even sound more entitled in French, whining about their parents reducing their credit card limits. I slept early in anticipation of the next day when we would go to the beach.
A bazooka by any other name.....
The next day was spent at my couchsurfing host's cousin's place. My French was still very basic, but they were having the most hilarious conversations which I could still understand with my rudimentary French. The sexual innuendos were pretty obvious. They warned me of "bazookas" in Abidjan saying that my Kenyan sensibilities might not be mentally prepared for the heavy laden Mandingos from the West...Hilarious! Women the world over are as naughty as can be.
In the evening I went to church with Esther - my host. She had choir practice and I wanted to listen in. Unfortunately the choir master didn't show up and practice was cancelled. We went back home. This was to be my last night at Esther's as I was moving into my apartment the next day. I packed that night. I had already began to make some interesting observations in Abidjan - though everyone made and ate extremely oily food, people were generally slim. In my time in Abidjan I also saw that weaves prevailed. I can't remember seeing more than 5 women with natural hair when I was there. In fact I remember people assuming that my dreadlocks were braids because people just did not have locs in Abidjan. Another thing I had also noticed was just how warm, kind and inviting Ivorians are.
The next day, Esther took me to my new place. The pictures I had seen online were amazing but when we got to the building I was a bit shocked. The outside looked very sketchy and the building itself was very worn. My apartment was on the 2nd floor and on getting in I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was even more beautiful than what the online pics showed. It was just in a dodgy looking building, but the apartment itself was very pretty, huge, modern and tastefully designed. I knew I would be quite happy living there. It dawned on me almost instantly that this would be the first time in my life living completely alone. At MIT I had been part of a co-ed fraternity. I had lived in a huge house with 40 roommates. Although I had my own room, that doesn't count as living alone. During all my internships in Germany I had lived with roommates or rented part of a house. As such I had never really lived alone. In Kenya I live with my mum and my sister in the house I grew up in. I realized I was going to have to put on my grown girl panties and figure out how to run a house. I was excited but slightly nervous, "What if I get lonely? Aaaaah, I will just throw lots of parties, but what if I end up feeling like Jay Gatsby, surrounded by lots of people but still alone? Oh well, I guess I will cross that river when I get to the bridge."
Thankfully I never ever got lonely in my time in Abidjan - I managed to make lots of friends. I also enjoyed my time alone in the house - reading a lot, writing a bit, learning every coupe decale song under the sun, watching Nigerian movies in French.....It was amazing:-)
After seeing the apartment, Esther took me to Sococe, the shopping mall to stock my house. At the supermarket we met her friend who on discovering I had just moved into a new place offered to buy lunch to have some sort of housewarming. We went back to mine with them and enjoyed a hearty meal of chicken and veggies.
As soon as we were done with lunch, Esther's brother came for my first French lesson. Having not found an Alliance Francaise in Abidjan, I had decided to get a private tutor. Esther had told me her brother was really good in French and in teaching. I decided to take a chance on him and it was a great idea - he was a tough teacher and my French greatly improved in my 2 months in Abidjan. It also helped that he was Ivorian because the Ivorian French accent is different from a regular French accent. By working with him I was much better able to understand what was going on when I was in Abidjan than I would have been if I had a standard French teacher. He was such a nice guy. He told me that the amount I had offered to pay him was too much and said he would teach me for 40% of the price I had initially mentioned. I really appreciated his honesty. I had no idea how much to quote as it is very person and location specific. I had ~3 hours a day of French for 5 days a week at a great bargain.
Of love and airports in Abidjan
Today's main errand was taking my new friend to the airport to pick up her boyfriend. From what I had gathered, they had met online - she's Ivorian, he's French and since then he had come to visit her thrice. I woke up at 10:30am to a delicious breakfast of mashed bananas and fish. After that I read a bit then we escorted the Aussie couchsurfer who was living with us to get a taxi. He was off to Yamoussoukro to see the largest basilica in the world - that is located in the middle of nowhere in Ivory Coast..More to follow on that in a few months, when I actually got there.
African time prevails throughout the continent. Esther (my couchsurfing host and I) left our place at 1pm or so to meet Raissa (who we were taking to the airport to meet her beau.) We were to meet somewhere around 1:30pm - 2 hours later she arrived dressed to the nines. Thankfully we got to kill the time waiting for her, having some food and drinks. We also ran a few random errands including going to Western Union to pick up some cash that Esther's boyfriend in France had sent her. In my time in Abidjan I realized that quite a few women had a benefactor in France who ensured they had rent, new phones, new clothes etc. At Western Union, the girl behind the counter sold us some lipsticks.
We finally got to the airport and waited a bit more for Raissa's boyfriend. When he finally arrived I noted that they had an age difference, but he seemed like a nice person. They were both clearly smitten and it was cute to watch. They could not keep their hands off each other. We had to take his trolley to give them some time to kiss and whisper sweet somethings to each other at the airport. After this we went to an icecream place where they continued to kiss each other endlessly. Finally the management at the place came and told them that if they did not stop with the PDA, we would get kicked out. The place was Lebanese owned and they felt that their behavior was offensive to their more conservative customers. I must say this was the first time I have almost been kicked out of an icecream joint. I felt badass, in a 15 year old type of way. We soon left the establishment as the two just could not stop eating face:-)
We went to Raissa's for dinner. She had made a feast - I pigged out on everything, except the escargots...I had already realized two nights before that eating snails was not my thing. We had salad, couscous, lamb etc. Esther and I finally went back home and slept by 10pm.
Settling in - Abidjan, the early days
It's been a while since my first post on getting to Abidjan - (Abidjan debout) . People always ask me - "so why did you move to Abidjan alone for 2 months?" It is a short story actually. I took a 6 month sabbatical from work to recentre myself. My life had been out of balance for a while, and I needed a break to remind myself what made me happy. Of those 6 months, I spent 2 months backpacking in South America, 2 months learning French in Nairobi and 2 months living in Abidjan, learning French, making friends, dancing to coupe decale, writing....It was much needed. I came back with a new lease on life and reminded myself that at any point in life, we should have an internal barometer that lets you know what is building up inside you and that if need be one should be able to withdraw themselves from everyday life to really reflect on all the factors leading one to feel unhappy. Living an examined life so to say.....
The 2 months in Abidjan were a perfect conclusion to the 6 months sabbatical. On the day after Abidjan debout, I woke up close to 10am. My lovely couchsurfing host had made breakfast - I had an egg in a baguette. I spent a bit of time looking online for Alliance Francaise in Abidjan only to realize that for some unknown reason Abidjan has none. My host's friend showed up at her place a few hours later and he played the guitar for us. We listened to him for a few hours. These are the little joys of being on sabbatical - days when you follow the flow - no itinerary to stick to, no place to be, nothing due....just living life....and listening to the guitar. We had a yummy meal of fish and rice in the early afternoon.
Later on we went to the market to look for chargers (given I had left all my chargers on my bed in Nairobi). My host - Esther and her friend Raissa got mani-pedis at the open air market. At the market I started noticing some very distinct differences in daily life between Anglophone and Francophone countries (actually might be more of differences between East and West Africa.) The women working at the market were all very well dressed, most had weaves, false eyelashes, acrylic nails etc. I could not think of a single instance in Nairobi when I had gone to the market and bought onions from a woman with lipstick, daring cleavage showing, fitting skirts, nails done, fresh weave etc. I could not help but stare. This attention to detail when grooming was something I came to notice everywhere in my time in Abijdan. Everyone - despite their income group - was always really well dressed by my Kenyan standards. Everyone....I later learnt that getting an acrylic manicure at the market cost around USD 1, a pedicure USD 2 and on average my friends got their nails done weekly and their weaves changed every 2 weeks.
I began to notice it too with my new found friends. Even when leaving the house to go to the dusty market, everyone tried on a few outfits. I thought of how I usually dressed in Nairobi when going to run errands in town - jeans, loose shirt, sneakers or flats....never anything to draw unnecessary attention to you - especially if I am javing into town. I wondered "If people dress this well to go to the market, what do they wear to weddings?"
After the town errands we went to Raissa's place and napped for 2 hours. I was quickly becoming very comfortable with my new friends - to the point of taking random naps at their places:-) Ivorians are really warm though - I was a complete stranger, but I was constantly being absorbed into people's plans. I loved that aspect.
After our naps, Raissa made some delicious chicken and rice. We left her place, went to our place and I was fast asleep by midnight - smiling to myself - thinking of all the possibilities of what my time in Abidjan would be like.
How I almost gave up the ghost, gorilla trekking in the mountains
Definitely longer blog posts coming up, but quick highlights on gorilla trekking a few months back in Bwindi impenetrable forest in Southern Uganda - I would likely not have gone if I had known just how tough it was going to be:-)
I still remember a naive Thekenyanexplorer asking the guide in the beginning "How steep can it get?" Haaaaaa! Jokes! We spent the first hour hiking up a major steep path that can only be described as Mount Longonot. Turns out this was the path that was to eventually bring us into "the impenetrable forest." Yaaaaani, this was not even the real trek yet. Having panted my life away I imagined that the gorillas would be so kind as to avail themselves to a nearby part of the forest - you know.....kind of meet us halfway....Nothing....We then spent the next hour in the forest mostly uphill with some few blessed moments of going downhill (I might not have considered the downhill parts a blessing if I had realized that we would be using the same exact path going back i.e. this would be an uphill path on our way back.) After an hour of trudging through the forest (which was muddy and slippery as it had rained the previous night,) I imagined that we must be really close to the gorillas. One of my colleagues asked how much longer and the guard said "In the next hour, we will be with the gorillas." I almost flung myself on the ground and started crying. An hour?? I can barely put one foot in front of the other....Can I just stay here and wait for you guys? And photoshop myself into your pics with the gorillas?
Then our guide talked to the tracker again and he said that we would have to cut our way through the forest to get to where the gorillas were. Armed with a sickle, our guards started cutting down vegetation in the "impenetrable forest" to get us to the gorillas. Maybe it's just me, but I always thought forests have a ground - yes, the trees might be close together, but there will surely be a ground, right? No. We were walking on air, on trees, on fallen branches, over streams, on nothingness, on everything - I fell down a minimum of 5 times - once into a hole of my height, another time I slipped on a muddy rock and was just so glad that this was saving me some effort, that I just let myself slide down 5 or 6 more muddy rocks - like I was on a water slide at Splash or something - I could not even be bothered to stand up and would have gladly slid down the mountain if there was a way to...
Finally, oh, finally that sweet moment arrived - when we got to the gorillas. The family we were tracking was amazing - 26 in total, 3 silverbacks (the male leaders), 5 or so blackbacks (younger males), 10 or so females and the rest were babies. This sounds silly, but I didn't realize how huge gorillas are. The first one we met was 225 kgs, so human in action, just stunning. To think that there are only 840 mountain gorillas remaining in the world - all of them in Rwanda, Uganda and DRC - just amazing work that the parks have done in keeping this magnificent, beautiful creatures alive for future generations to enjoy. It was so exhilarating just standing in the middle of the forest with the largest primates known to man.
There were some hilarious/frightening moments, with 2 of the silverbacks charging at us twice and having to be stopped by the trackers who are able to mimic their sounds. We also heard the screams of a gorilla baby and saw how quickly the silverbacks went to check what was happening. One of the silverbacks also started pounding his chest as he retreated from us - to make sure we knew who was boss. It was really out of the world.
The next day with my aching bones, I could genuinely say that it was worth every bit of physical pain to see the mountain gorillas. I thank the Kahungye gorilla family for letting us take a sneak peek into their lives, the great wardens and trackers for loving and caring for these treasures of the world, my travel companions for pushing me forward and encouraging me when all I wanted to do was give up during that journey.
I encourage every one who can to go see the lovely mountain gorillas. East Africans, the deal is sweet for you - USD 90/person vs. USD 600 that foreigners pay:-)
My first time in Ghana - part 8 (the end)
Date: Early 2007
Context: Thekenyanexplorer went to Ghana with a team from uni on a 3 week trip to Ghana. Her team was focusing on some development work in energy and water. This is an email that was sent to her friends and family after the trip. The full story will be in a few separate consecutive blog entries.
KWAME NKRUMAH
To our joy the Kwame Nkrumah memorial park was open. It was a really beautiful place with seven statues of horn blowers blowing water into the fountain. The memorial park is a bit controversial since Nkrumah is likened to God in many ways that some find sacreligious. The seven horn blowers representing the fact that God created for six days then rested on the seventh....just like Nkrumah. Kwame Nkrumah's mausoleum viewed from a distance looks like a tree. He is merely resting under a tree. Not dead. Many think of Nkrumah as immortal. Nkrumah's body is finally laying where it should be. He died in a hospital in Romania from prostate cancer. He was buried first in exile in Guinea where he was co-president after having been overthrown in Ghana, and could not be returned home. He was buried in a metal coffin for many years and this is taboo. According to custom he had to be buried in a wooden case so that his soul would eventually be able to escape after the coffin decomposes. Later on his body was allowed to be brought back into Ghana and be buried in his home town. It was finally dug up for the last time and buried in the now Kwame Nkrumah memorial park in Accra.
The museum was quite interesting and the guide was very informative. On the exterior of the museum there was Egyptian drawings, a tribute to Nkrumah's wife who was Egyptian. There are many pictures of Nkrumah with Fidel Castro, the very handsome Patrice Lumumba (Congo's first president- who was killed by the Belgians and supposedly by the CIA for his friendship with communist leaders and his great work in opposing colonialism. He was only seeking help from stronger nations after the US refused to support him. It makes one wonder how much of a threat the CIA and Belgium thought Lumumba was for them not only to have killed and buried him under a tree, but then dug him up again to dissolve his body in sulphuric acid. The good are killed off young.
The symbols on Nkrumah's monument are interesting. There is the lady with an egg showing that power is fleeting. There is the upward pointing sword depicting political power. The place left me pretty sad, but also hopeful in a strange way. Great people die or are killed, but great ideas can never be erased. Forwards ever, Backwards never.
BLOOD DIAMOND
I had told all my group mates about blood diamond, and we decided to go watch it. We saw a place called the "movie theater." Turned out to be a bar that has a big screen and some benches. I found it so amusing, that there are really no movie theaters in Accra. This is a plus for Nairobi.
CUPID'S ARROW
I am smitten by a certain Ghanaian man. That is all I will say for now. I think I was given some juju. He is the sweetest human being I have met. For more details ask me.
DEPARTURE AND AMSTERDAM
Leaving Ghana was pretty sad. We had lunch at a vegan restaurant "Asasse Pa" then spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. I have grown so attached to the place and my new peaceful way of life. I love the people. People are really unbelievably nice, and I feel like I found a warm part of myself that I had sort of forgotten for a while. A part of me that makes me human. I feel like I have found a second home after Kenya. There were two blackouts at the airport. Was a bit amusing. We spent yesterday touring Amsterdam in the morning. It was fun. Amsterdam was really beautiful but cold. We arrived at 6am and tried finding a coffee shop to warm up with coffee before touring. Funny.....none were opened at 6am. At 8am we finally found one. I ordered an Irish coffee thinking this would be coffee with baileys. Turned out to be coffee with whisky (not the best morning drink if I may say so myself.) It warmed me up though
My first time in Ghana - part 7
Date: Early 2007
Context: Thekenyanexplorer went to Ghana with a team from uni on a 3 week trip to Ghana. Her team was focusing on some development work in energy and water. This is an email that was sent to her friends and family after the trip. The full story will be in a few separate consecutive blog entries.
RETURN OF THE GRASSCUTTER
As I walk back to Pastor George's I pass a grasscutter on the middle of the road that has been slaughtered and is having its organs taken out one by one. As a meat eater it is very ironic of me to be saddened by this, but I was. It was enough of an experience to make me want to become a vegetarian. The man gutting it, dug his fingers dip inside its abdominal cavity and pulled out his bloody hands which he then took to the dog's nose. Pastor George said they do that to let the dogs be able to track them by looking for the scent of their blood. I am happy I am not a grasscutter.
DOWNTIME
Today we woke up at 2:30am to drive out to Bui National Park. Each of us and our translators were going. We were 15 in total with the driver. We hopped onto the back of a pickup and began our three hour journey there. The ride there was unbelievably cold, and uncomfortable. The back of a pickup is only fun in warm weather and when you have leg space. We got to the park around 6am. Our first stop was the beautiful lake to see the hippos. It was exciting. Afterwards we got off the pickup and started walking around. This was when I lost respect for the park. No park worthy of being called a park can have people walking around. I instantly knew that the most dangerous animal they could possibly have in the park was a gazelle or some other herbivore. Kenya still beats Ghana in this arena. We have real wildlife. Can you imagine the only animal we saw was a grasscuttter. How annoying. The ride back home was hot and tortorous. It was now unbelievably hot. I cut myself on a jutting metal piece, and only began to bleed much later when we got home and drank lots of water. It was like being in the Sahara.
BACK TO ACCRA
Our host’s son in law picked us up, and drove us to Kumasi. In Kumasi I realized that there are more cabs than people. Cabbing is the normal mode of transportation. Shared taxis are more common than trotros/matatus. We hoped into a bus to take us to Accra. The first hour in the bus we had the luck of having a street preacher with us. He got up, and preached and preached and preached. Then he passed around a collection box, but he wasn't obnoxious about it. He didn't harass anyone or anything. He was a nice street preacher after all. After five and a half hours of riding in the bus, I really began to hate Ghanaian courtesy of dropping everyone off at their various locations. The bus would stop every 3 minutes or so.
A NAME SO SWEET
It was Friday night, and we had gotten back to Accra. We were staying again at the pink hostel, but this time it felt like the Ritz Carlton to us. Big bed, lights, shower, soap, toilet paper. We were now living large. Our Saturday plan was to go shopping for kente cloth and crafts, but our plans were cut short.
THE DEATH OF A CHIEF
The Ga paramount chief had died six months earlier, and in Ga fashion he would be buried today. Everything in Accra was closed in respect for the Ga chief. The whole city wore mourning colors of black and red. None of the shops we planned on visiting would be open. We chose to go to the one open place- the ocean. Standing there at the gulf of guinea I felt so alive. So fulfilled. Accra is simply beautiful. It is like having Mombasa as our capital city.
My first time in Ghana - part 6
Date: Early 2007
Context: Thekenyanexplorer went to Ghana with a team from uni on a 3 week trip to Ghana. Her team was focusing on some development work in energy and water. This is an email that was sent to her friends and family after the trip. The full story will be in a few separate consecutive blog entries.
OF DREAMS AND CHILDREN
The kids in New Longoro are so cute and sweet. I felt like I would leave Ghana with a few of them. One of my team-mates had a dream. She was pregnant, and gave birth to a black baby (note: she is white). It was quite funny. We asked her if the baby was mixed. She said the baby was black. I interpreted this to mean that she will probably adopt an African baby in the future. Strange that the kids in New Longoro don't scream when they see a camera flash. They calmly stand when pictures are taken. My new best friend is called Nico Nico and he is Pastor George's goat herder's son. He is 13, but could pass for 8. It is pretty sad that many of the children here are malnourished. Not due to lack of food, but due to lack of nurses to teach new mothers the importance of giving their children a balanced diet. There is quite a bit of marasmus and kwashiakor in the area. The most ironic thing is that the child with the most distended belly in the village is a fisherman's son. The kids here don't get enough protein even though peanuts are grown in the area (they are sold and not consumed by the families.) I keep on getting the strange feeling in Ghana that the government actually cares for the people. John Kufuor the current president seems to have a heart. There is a new school feeding program, and children in all primary schools get lunch. Enrolment in schools has gone up due to the feeding program, and I think it is a wonderful undertaking.
THE GIRL WITH A WOODEN DOLL
Today we taught the kids in the hall. They stood up to move to the other side of the room, and I saw a little wooden doll on the floor of the room. The little doll was dressed in the yellow school uniform that the rest of the girls had. I slowly walked to the doll, and picked it up. I wondered whose doll it was, and where it came from. Something about the doll made me feel really sad. All dolls are lifeless, but this one was dead. One of the boys walked up to me, and told me that the doll belongs to one of the young girls. He told me the doll looks just like her. I inquired why. He told me it was carved out for her after she lost her twin sister, and she went everywhere with her doll. Tears stung my eyes. I turned, and saw a limping girl come towards me. She looked just like the doll. I gave her her doll, and gave her a warm comforting touch on her wrist. I knew it was a cold comfort. I felt for her, but knew there was nothing I would be able to do to take away the sadness from her eyes. I was curious about her limp, her loss, her, but all I could do was sadly watch her limp away.
My first time in Ghana - part 5
Date: Early 2007
Context: Thekenyanexplorer went to Ghana with a team from uni on a 3 week trip to Ghana. Her team was focusing on some development work in energy and water. This is an email that was sent to her friends and family after the trip. The full story will be in a few separate consecutive blog entries.
NEW LONGORO
We moved on to our final destination. A village right on the border between Brong Ahafo region and the Northern region. A village basically separated from Ivory Coast only by a range of mountains. In New Longoro we would be staying with families so as to get the whole community experience rather than living isolated from the community. I ended up living with Pastor George. He was a sweet old man, and the main opinion leader in the community. He had made so many preparations for our arrival. We had been learning Twi in MIT, but in Accra people mostly speak Ga. In Ashanti region people speak Twi, and in New Longoro they speak Mu. We each had our own translator who would be living with us in the homes. His house was the poshest in the village. Granted we didn't have electricity, but he had his own water tank. He even had an indoor toilet even though you had to fetch water into the bucket to flush it. My first shower in New Longoro was a bit funny. The house had an outdoors bathing room, but it was definitely built for someone shorter than me. I went in with my bucket of water, and realized I could see people on the road pretty clearly. It was pretty strange having people say hi to you as they passed by the shower. It was equally funny when a goat would walk into the shower. My poor team-mate had a chicken watching her shower. Pastor George kept grass cutters, cows, bees, goats etc. I noticed that in Ghana all the goats are fat, and all the cows are really thin. Fresh milk is not available in Ghana. They use powder milk and evaporated milk. It was interesting noting some minor differences between African countries.
SUNDAY SCHOOL
Having Pastor George as our main host meant that Sunday would be a church sunday. It was pretty amusing considering only 20% of our group was remotely Christian. We were asked to give a sermon, and our professor gave a wonderful sermon on development. The pastor is a genius, and planned out what we should tell the folk before church. He said our sermon should involve talking to the people about sending children to school, good hygiene etc. It was interesting to see how much power the church holds in a community. One of my team-mates (a medical student) decided to deliver a sermon on the benefits of breast feeding, and Pastor George being a very practical hands on person decided that people learn best by example. He asked a lady in the back who was breast feeding her baby to come to the front. I thought it would be an awkward moment for the rest of the group, but it turned out none of us is faint of heart. I think my time in the village I saw more boob than I have even seen on Girls gone wild ads.
A BUG'S LIFE
I worry for my health considering that when we were in New Longoro we got bitten by tsetse flies, onco flies, mosquitoes, bees and other insects of unknown origin. So worst case scenario we braved getting sleeping sickness, river blindness, malaria etc. Let me not forget to mention my varucca/fungal infection growing on the sole of my foot. Quite adventorous I must say. I got it from going barefoot into the Black Volta (not really sure why that seemed like a good idea.) In Ghana I noticed a strange habit. Before meals a bowl of warm soapy water is brought before you, and everyone washes their hands in the same bowl. We tried not to think too much about how many germs we might be sharing between us.