Nigeria Dreamin' Part III

I have to admit, I’ve been a pretty bad blogger this year, in fact I don’t think I deserve to be a called a blogger after this dismal performance in 2011. My last post was in January, and for that I can only apologize, I guess my reason is that 2011 has been quite disappointing for a variety of reasons, and reasons I felt I didn’t need (and didn’t want) to go into detail (I can’t put everything out there, right?)

So, if the present isn’t all that rosy, what better place to go than to the past, as some of you probably know (from my last two Nigerian Dreamin’ posts) I have very fond memories of growing up in Nigeria in the 1990s. They were indeed fun and mostly happy times, and these posts are a way of reminiscing about those good old days, the celebrations, the recreation, the food, and of course, being kids; the punishment.

Moi, yes, this is how I dressed (sometimes)

Charity begins at home

I think the biggest difference between living in Nigeria and living in the Netherlands can be found in the etiquette of guests. In Nigeria it’s not unusual for a friend to show up unannounced on a Saturday morning just to have a chat about relatives or politics. Nobody called in advance, or arranged a convenient date, you just showed up and hoped the person you were visiting was at home. If they weren’t, you either go back home, go visit another friend who lived nearby or come in and wait till your friend arrived. Even if my dad was sleeping, it was our duty as kids, not to politely turn the guest away, but to go up and wake daddy up, shaking him saying “Daddy, Daddy Mister So-so-and-so has come”. Daddy would rise up, wipe the sleep from his face and come down, and before long he and his guests would be laughing heartily.
There was the customary greeting of guests which was a bit of a ritual, it involved us kids coming, either en masse or one by one to greet the guest. We usually stood close to an exit so as not to prolong what was to be a quick affair. The guest would usually ask about what class you were in, and then make a flat comment like “You’re now a big boy eh” which sounded like a question, but was probably a remark, and so I’ll look at dad, as if to telepathically ask “Should I reply in the affirmative that I am indeed growing or is he mainly stating the obvious”
Once the guest had exhausted all the compliments he/she could give that was your cue to make a quick exit, this was important because some guests were quite...touchy, and would insist you come and sit next to them or on them and endure a three our conversation about fuel prices or Abacha, and you couldn’t really refuse, so you sat there, legs dangling, respectfully bored to death.
Sometimes, if we didn’t have any soft drinks, or beer at home we were sent to go get some cold ones from next door. If you were lucky, dad could give you some coke if you seemed to be quite helpful around, otherwise you waited till the guests left and then raided the living room for any remnants. I still don’t like Guinness till this day, but there was something quite satisfying as an eight year old, finishing the last bit of Guinness in the bottle, you felt adult, somewhat wiser, for this was what ‘real men’ drank afterall.

All play and no work makes Jack a dull boy

My grandma was always rather suspicious of our friends. I think she felt they were either too rude, too rough, or too “un-trained” or plainly didn’t know when they had overstayed their welcome (in Grandma’s eyes if you were still hanging around at dinnertime then you were way past your welcome). So on the occasions friends came over I made sure we went up to my Grandma’s room where I’ll introduce my friend, and they would greet her as politely as possible- this should ideally involve bowing, not looking agitated, and most importantly, remaining standing until dismissed by her, walking off before being formally dismissed was the height of disrespect. After Grandma’s approval, play could then commence.

Me and my super-awesome Grandmother

I think we got a PC in 1998, remember how computers looked back then? CPUs the size of suitcases, and monitors what were half your body weight. Oh and dial-up internet, which was used only sparingly, and took 5 minutes to load up a simple page. Ah, good days.
When we got the computer, dad gave us a lengthy lecture about its purpose- STRICTLY FOR EDUCATIONAL USES. He demonstrated this by buying us a load of CDs, with titles like ‘Human Body in 3D’ ‘GCSE Geography’ ‘Encyclopaedia Encarta’ etc. Of course as young kids our idea of a computers purpose was diametrically opposed to our father’s, and this was demonstrated by the programs we (covertly) installed on the computer, with titles like ‘Need for Speed’ ‘Mortal Kombat’ ‘Duke Nukem’ ‘Street Fighter’ etc

Part IV coming up soon, where I talk about celebrations and punishment.