christmas in the bush

Christmas Eve was unexpectedly a lot of fun. The four of us at camp went down to the tourist cottages where Zoe (British director of a partner NGO) and her parents were staying and had a hoot with the party favors they brought all the way from the UK!

christmas dinner

this is sandra, the volunteer camp manager; jan; and geraint, another VSO volunteer from a nearby town who spent christmas at the camp with us. this was our christmas dinner, and we were supposed to have chicken (which is pretty special as it comes all the way from calabar) but there was something wrong with the solar power for 2 days and it spoiled. so sandra and jan had to go down to the village and chase one tough and scrawny chicken but it didn't make it in time for dinner. we had a nice meal anyhow, and the company's what really counts. happy holidays, everyone! :)

cassava fryer

and this is how the cassava gets dried and becomes garri. there's fire under this huge metal pan; very hot! no idea how we do it back in the philippines...

cooking basics

Unfortunately, the two dominant tastes of Nigerians are hot (as in spicy) and bitter. If it doesn’t have lots of pepe (pepper), it’s not food. They’re not so into fruits, either. And desserts are unheard of. I can actually eat most of their food, problema lang madumi yung pagluto, lalo na paano nila kinakain. Damak-damak! I guess the translation in Tagalog would be dugyot, sobra! Kadiri, I swear! Compounded by the fact that clean water is hard to come by. The problem is, I’m supposed to be “integrating with the community” so I don’t want to offend people when I’m offered food. So even if I can actually get by without having to cook because people will always offer (and there are two “restaurants”, na tawag nila “hotel”), I’d rather live on my trusty oatmeal. Bread is hard to come by, I get that from Calabar and it doesn’t last very long, kasi ayoko rin yung binebenta sa village, and sometimes panis na. What my village will never run out of is yam (balinghoy), coco yam (gabi daw sabi ng isang pinoy na VSO dito), water yam (ewan kung meron tayo), plantain, at walang kamatayan na cassava. Every afternoon the women come back from farm (yes, the women – don’t ask me what the men do!) with loads of cassava, and there is the omnipresent smell of cassava being grinded, squeezed and dried. The end product is a yellowish powder, which they can just mix with hot water and it becomes some sort of very soft and mushy puto.

If my months here will amount to nothing, at least I’m learning how to cook from scratch. My first attempt was a pancake, and I just kind of thought about the ingredients without actually knowing how to measure or how to go about it. But voila! I got it great the first time. A great feat for a fast food person like me. One time it was Nicky’s birthday and I know she loves chocolate so I tried to make cookies with chocolate syrup. I’m amazed what one can do with Milo. Yes, Kix, may Milo, mabubuhay ka dito! I thought I wasn’t so big on chocolate, but what deprivation can do! I had such a choco fix that afternoon! Then I was able to make pizza without an oven, and who knows what I can whip up next! VSO Nigeria has actually made a great compilation of recipes using local ingredients and measurements, and it takes into account that most of us don’t have electricity. Ironically, I’ve had to cook rice here for the first time. Even with all those camping trips, I always got away without having to cook rice. Kasi sa lahat ng staples dito, pinaka ok pa rin rice, kahit na ang pangit ng variety nila at ang mahal, sa North kasi talaga ang nagtatanim ng rice. At syempre sobrang low tech ang pagka-mill. Pero Bunny, pinagtyatyagaan ko favorite food mo! I actually got it right the first time (Bot, naalala ko pa ikaw yung rice guru dati). The second time I thought, why not try it on a frying pan; much easier to clean. Weeelllll… The thing about cooking for myself and having no fridge is, no matter how much I like my lunch I always have to force it down my throat for dinner. If anyone knows how to cook laing (pangat), puso ng saging (banana blossom), bananaque and ibos, please email it to me in very simple steps.

cut off from civilization

The price I get for wanting a conservation-related placement is that I get thrown in one of the most remote areas, in a village just at the borders of the Cross River National Park, a village that is a clump of mudhuts and flat rainforest all around. I get stuck where there is no electricity, no post office, no cellphone signal, and absolutely no mechanism for handling solid and human waste. You would think, as it is back home, that the more remote the area, the cleaner the water. Well, not so at all here. Water from the few streams which dry up during the dry season (like NOW), is dirty. I feel that taking a bath and washing my clothes are rhetoric tasks, really. I only feel really clean when I take a bath at the stream at Rhoko Camp. Ok, for those who don’t know yet, my NGO here is a conservation organization founded by a Canadian and mostly run by volunteers, with a focus on preservation of primates (you guys should really visit the site I sent out long ago – www.cercopan.org. Our main office in Calabar (the capital of Cross River State) is a rescue center with over 90 monkeys (orphaned when their mothers were hunted for bushmeat – go to www.bushmeat.org if you want to know more about the issue). Then about five years ago a solar-powered electrified enclosure in the middle of the forest was built, and about 30 monkeys were airlifted to this enclosure, in preparation for their (we hope) release. This is Rhoko Camp, 8 kilometers into the forest from the village (the road from the village to the camp, though traversing streams, is much better than the road from the village to the highway). Some of the volunteers stay here, together with local staff who care for the monkeys and patrol the surrounding forest. Then there is I in the village, with two other staff (well, the staff at the camp are from the village and trek everyday anyway, even if there are quarters for them near the camp). So I trek to the camp to get my dose of decent conversation, clean water, and solar power. It’s also the place where I can freely wear shorts (oh joy!), though of course insects here, though there’s less chance they are malaria carriers, are more, since this is deeper into the rainforest. I’m actually expecting malaria to hit me any day now, starting on my 3rd week in the country. It’s just impossible to keep away from mosquitoes all the time. Most of the volunteers have had it, and since I take prophylaxis, it will be very mild IF I do get it. That’s why, even if I don’t take any drugs, I’m making a regular habit of my doxy, which is about the only routine thing I have been doing here.

head load

I still can not believe the things that women can carry on top of their heads. A big basin-full of cassava, several huge pieces of firewood, yam, a bunch of plaintain, a whole sack of gari, a machete (bolo), a big bucket of water, and sometimes all together, too! Their entire vertebra must be compacted together! They can’t carry anything with their hands, even a roll of toilet paper goes on top of their heads. From the time they learn how to walk they’re already trained to carry things this way. That’s why even the very young girls walk tall and straight, and very gracefully. That’s why, too, that they’re incessantly afflicted with waist pains and back pains and whateverelse pains. This is one of the women leaders (who has sort of adopted me) when I went to farm with her. She has a very light load here, just several pieces of yam, but you get the picture.

chiefs' visit

The chiefs here seated (there are two for the village, don’t ask me how that works!) visited Rhoko camp for the first time to see (and supposedly settle the issue) the land clearing of one farmer along the road near our education center. This is the main hall of the camp, 8 km into the forest, which I walk to charge batteries (through solar power), and also to recharge myself. That’s Jan standing on the right. He works directly with the monkeys, training the keepers and making sure the enclosure and cages working. As I had mentioned, he supervised the additions to my “enclosure”, too!

pest of a neighbor

My neighbor who shits on my front door every morning. Well, just about every hour, actually. If I had a shotgun… but it’s probably good that I didn’t; I later found out that she’s the beloved pet of the chief’s wife, and she’s been really friendly with me. There are lots of free-roaming goats in the village, unfortunately they’re mostly for display and not for meat.

backlog photos 2

the VSO volunteers who arrived in October 2005. we were together only for 4 days but we all got along very well. i wish i could see more of them during our 2-year stint.

backlog photos 1

this is jorn and toby (in this order). jorn leaves for another job at cameroon at the end of the month; will miss him.

PLEASE WRITE!

send snail mail to: c/o CERCOPAN 4 Ishie Lane HEPO Box 826 Calabar Cross River State, Nigeria wala talagang zip code, di uso dito. please write! i beg, i beg! (that's how they say please here, ang OA talaga ng mga tao dito, lalo na sa greetings)

stuff to send me, hehe

Stuff that would be very well appreciated if you can sneak into your letters to me (not in order of need/preference): News articles Clippings on anything interesting, kahit crossword Haring Ibon Pocket calendar for 2006 (it’s nice to look at my “no mining no logging” calendar in my wallet from time to time) Flavored tea bags, especially those with fruit/flower infusions (lipton lang nandito) Sachets of Off! Powdered soup (those single-serves good for a mug) Iced tea!!! (it doesn’t exist here!) Cheezewhiz (yung sachet na rin) Cheese powder (yung pang popcorn)

I would be eternally grateful (seryoso) if someone will send me: Barako (or any ground coffee) Cheese

Kahit na ilang bwan bago dumating dito I’ll eagerly wait for it. If not, simply letters would be greatly appreciated too, as I am so cut off from civilization.

just a note

Note: Much as I would want to show you all my world here, be patient at this very slow moving blog. I have too many thoughts and stories while in the village, but these always escape me when it’s time to sit down and type it all. And it doesn’t help that I get about 3 hours worth of laptop battery a week (just enough for one movie, changing music in my mp3 player, downloading photos, and some notes). It would be great if I could just send video clips; let me know if anyone knows a way of doing this without having to spend all day at the internet café and clogging up everyone’s inboxes.

the village

“the road to hell” …as Darryl, a former volunteer, I was told, used to call it. Ironic how this is among the first signs that greets me as I enter the village. The trip to Iko Esai, where I will be staying for two long years (for now anyway) was the longest, most anxious time in my life. After the main highway from Calabar we turned at a junction, whereupon the road just got from bad to unbelievable. I know most everyone thought I was crazy for doing this, but by the time we had passed the neighboring village Iko Ekperem, even I thought I was crazy then. I already felt suffocated (with 2 years ringing in my head), and I had not even seen Iko Esai! It’s not on the map, so don’t bother looking for it (God knows I’ve tried!). If you do get a good Nigerian map or Google Earth, look towards the southeast near the border of Cameroon. Iko Esai is a village in Akamkpa town, which you will find on the map. It is somewhere between that and the Cross River National Park or Oban Hills. It is a cluster of 6 villages and 5 other villages in its periphery, and Heaven is one of those smaller villages (don’t ask me why it’s called that). I guess the villages are comparable to our sitios, although Iko Esai is not exactly a barangay, it’s not even a proper local government unit. It’s hard to understand and it’s all very disorganized, as with everything else in this country. Anyway, here is a view of it.

So that’s the main road, and it doesn’t stretch for much longer. At first I was shocked to see mud huts along the way from Abuja to Calabar; little did I imagine I would be living in a community full of them. But no, my house is made of hollow blocks, made as crudely as imaginable (again, as with everything else in this country). This is my living room/guest room/kitchen, with Nicky, the Cercopan deputy director, and Mike, the education assistant, who is an “indigene” of the village and who has been introducing me to everyone and showing me where everything is. This was taken the first day I arrived, and Mike was showing us how to cook the most common Nigerian meal – gari (processed cassava) with soup. Every food here is some heavy carbohydrate (gari, yam, plantain, or rice) and soup. Whatever soup it is, it has 2 cubes of “maggi” (broth bullion); some green leafy vegetable; often with pounded okra (just so you get the slime without the fiber) or some other pounded seed to thicken it; sometimes with some kind of meat, but at the village there’s just disgusting dried fish (not our daing or barol), “ice fish” (which is more disgusting, since it has traveled continents and has supposedly reached Nigeria still “iced”), or crayfish (dried hipon, and I mean the Ilonggo hipon, not actual shrimps), which is probably the least gross of them all. Oh, and of course, lots and lots of “pepe” (sili). Anything without pepe here is not food. But more on food later.

some photos

my first fascination my first nigerian meal anja, monkey mommy abuja

first week

TANYA in NIGERIA


Day 1 in Nigeria, 16 October 2005, Sunday

Abuja, or some parts anyway, is like a cross between Subic and Quiapo.  Nice, diplomatic structures but a lot of small stalls of fake what-have-yous.  It’s a very new town, so roads are well-paved and wide, buildings are new, and everything is laid out well and organized. But if you look closer, especially at the restrooms, you notice they don’t really know how to put a building or a house together.  This goes for even posh places.  The designs are very nice, the materials are ok, if not very good, but the workmanship really is crude.  And Nigerians don’t know anything about maintainance.  And what’s up with the locks? You need a key for locking anything from the outside AND from the inside.  In many ways, Abuja was a “fake” city, filled only with diplomats and government officials.  They say it’s not a representation of Nigeria at all.  In some ways, maybe, but in many other ways not, as I was to find out later.

I arrived very early Sunday, about 530 am, about the same time I left Ortigas the other day, only it’s been 24 hours + 7 hours of traveling transatlantic from Manila to Singapore to London (Heathrow) to Abuja.  I was too sleepy but I forced my eyes open to see the mountain ranges below; if I got my bearings right it was either the Ghats or Kathmandu I was looking at.  It was just immensely wide land, mostly brown from the altitude we were at.  Beautiful.  I’ve never quite seen anything that vast!  When the clouds covered my view, I spent my time stuck to the tube watching The Simpsons and Joey.  This could most likely be the last time I get to watch these shows for the next two years!  While about to board British Air, I started noticing a few “whites”, and then started to spot a familiar thing they were all carrying – crash helmets! I asked one of them if they were volunteers, and it turned out they had all already identified each other by way of helmets.

There were 12 of us VSO volunteers billeted in one of the “top 100 hotels in Nigeria”, the Crystal Palace. No, this had nothing to do with crystals. I thought to myself, unless there are just 99 other hotels in Nigeria, I’m in trouble.  It’s like one of our cheap inns but with exorbitant prices.  That’s the thing here in Abuja, everything is SO expensive.  My basic commodities include Pringles (which i found to my pleasant shock in one supermarket), at 450 Naira, and coke in can, 120 Naira.  It’s roughly 2.4 Naira to a Peso.  The supermarket here isn’t really a supermarket, it’s big but contains very little, maybe Carol’s 20 years ago, or 1/6th of what Eunilane has, or… the blue store in Calayan! But with a lot more imported, very expensive products.  Now the market is another story.  It’s supposed to compare to our wet markets, but really, I can’t begin to describe how they are similar.

Day 2 in abuja, 17 oct. 2005

Today we went to our respective embassies.  Of course it was the Philippine embassy which had the most welcoming reception.  Everyone was friendly, accommodating, and Bisaya.  I met the ambassador himself, and got myself registered and ready to vote in 2007.

Visiting the VSO office and getting our British Council membership card – for the first time I felt oh yes, by the way, you ARE employed by a British organization.

Had our first meal outside the hotel – we went to a chophouse (translate: carinderia) and had pounded yam, one of the staples, which I didn’t like, and beef stew, which was way too hot. That’s the thing I didn’t know, all their food here is hot. Hot, hot, hot.

If you think drivers in the Philippines are crazy, here they don’t know the first thing about driving.  At least traffic lights are respected, and they’re strict about the seatbelt law (only in Abuja), but that’s about it.  You can hear the car engines grunt and screech their protests together with the white people.

One morning Janita, a Brit who reminds me so much of Gen Broad, and who’s already volunteered in Ethiopia before this, asked us who had been putting strange small “gifts” by the doorways.  It was chalk wrapped in silver paper, she said, and she said it was really thoughtful (she was a teacher) but was wondering at the strangeness of the delivery.  Something clicked in my head, and I asked (I wasn’t in their row of rooms) if she was sure it was chalk, remembering those chalks we have for cockroaches.  Well, that solved the big mystery quickly.

We met Dave, Marebec, Kevin and Mercy, who are serving volunteers all in Abuja, meaning they’ve been here a while and have been asked to help out in our in-country training.  Dave is Irish, he works on something on IT, has been here 3 months and is already very good with the Nigerian accent and expressions, and of course with the price haggling.  Marebec is Filipina who’s been here seven months, she works in the Nigerian radio, something to do with human rights.  she’s from CDO, and I can see she’s been well-immersed here.  She and Dave were the ones who took real good care of us during the training, coordinating everything and very supportive of us, since they are the ones who could relate to us best.  Kevin is also in IT, I think.  All we know is he’s got free internet access and has a lot of time in his hands that’s why all of us have read or communicated with him already through the volunteer message boards before coming over.  Ask anything, and Kevin will surely get back to you in no time.  Mercy is another Filipina, now that’s one with a horror story to tell.  Her placement didn’t go very well.  One time she arrived home after a weekend trip only to find her house had been demolished!  Some country, huh!

Okay, this is the part where I lose my handbag with everything in it – cellphone, cash, cards, flashdisk, among other things - except my passport, thank God!  Welcome to Nigeria alright. Well, I figure it can’t get worse after this.  And instead of talking about that, I’d rather talk about my first fascination, this blue and orange reptile that’s everywhere, even in city streets.  I just stop every time I see one, it hasn’t failed to amaze me yet.  When I’ve settled I’ll take on the project of finding out what species it is, exactly, unless someone out there can tell me and save me the trouble?


Last night in Abuja, 19 October 2005

Last night the British High Commissioner invited us to dinner at his very posh, very well-guarded house.  He invited out employers as well, and several other British people, and this Irish guy I was talking to who didn’t know how he got into the guest list.  We had a loverly time, and savored each morsel of food and dessert, and every drop of wine.  I had too much, in preparation for the next two years I wouldn’t encounter wine such as that again.

It has just been four days, but I guess there’s a band that instantly forms amongst VSO volunteers that does not need a lot of time to glue.  We all gave each other hugs and kisses and were very eager to see everyone during the HIV/AIDS workshop next month, IF it happens.  It was at dinner that I heard the term from Tammie when we were talking about Dave and Marebec – the VSO Dating Service, and actually, she’s right, I mean, well, do you know a VSO who HASN’T hooked up?

Day 5 in Nigeria, the great travel from Abuja to Calabar, 20 October, 2005, Thursday

I thought 12 hours of road trip was going to be fun, I used to go Manila-Sta. Ana without a second thought to the long hours, but the trip to Calabar, while educational, was something else completely.  There were two road accidents along the way, which delayed us for more than an hour, we had a stopover at the town of Veryaggressivewomen, arrived at the volunteers house (called the White House where Nicky, CERCOPAN’s deputy director; Zena, the founder; and other volunteers from the camp stay), met Sandra who was here on a break from Rhoko, and the very smelly dogs Simba and Popsie.

Day 1 in calabar, 21 october Friday

Mercy, who spoils all of the white house guests, made me breakfast and took me to the office, which was, to my pleasant surprise, just off the next street from the highway, a nice short walk from the White House. I met Zena, our very own version of Jane Goodall, and two other volunteers, Toby the German vet (who arrived in August), and his girlfriend Anja who will be doing media and fundraising.  She arrived two weeks ago and has been pretty busy being a mom to the sick babies who just arrived at the rescue center.  I also met Jorn, another German guy (that’s right, the German invasion right here in CERCOPAN) who’s on his way out after a year and 9 months here in Calabar setting up the botanical garden, where CERCOPAN is supposed to transfer.  I also met Matina, the education assistant, who gave me a quick tour of the enclosements, Etan, the admin guy, Eme who’s the one who spoils everyone at the office, Saddam and Sable (also very smelly), killer and that other cat, Okom the infant putty-nosed guenon, and more than 80 other guenons and mangabeys.

That night Zena took us volunteers down to Bristow Helicopters, at the naval base right by the river. They recently had a new rule – no women can get in after 6, and they have to be out by 10.  Good thing we made it just in time – at 5 to 6.  Nice, very secure place with a private mini bar plastered all over with very lewd but otherwise entertaining posters, photos, clippings, what-have-yous.  These are friends of Zena’s, and she gets to get inside anytime she likes as her husband works for Bristow.  There were 3 nice guys, Dave especially, who bartended and got us all quite drunk, except Zena, who left early.  Good thing Jorn had his own car and was sober enough to drive me home (I wouldn’t have found my way back to the White House!), although Dave offered us rooms each.  Toby was too far gone so he and Anja stayed. It was a fun night, and the cheese was definitely worth it.  Two very highly-priced commodities in Calabar, I was told, are cheese and chocolates.

Day 2 in Calabar, 22 October Saturday

I witnessed my first primate autopsy today.  We were all sad that Okom didn’t make it, the poor baby.  Toby had to check vital organs and take samples to determine what she died of.

I also met another volunteer based up at Rhoko camp, Jan.  Nicky had been talking about these Israeli tourists from Abuja brought up to the camp, who got back today late in the afternoon. I thought Jan was one of them, so when Jerry, our senior education officer, introduced me I casually asked how he found Rhoko. Later I realized who he was, and also found out, with some embarrassment, that he has been building my house for me in the village!  Later we talked about Iko Esai a bit, and it scared me, in a way, because I didn’t realize everyone in the village, all 4,000 of them, are eagerly waiting for their VSO volunteer and are probably expecting so many things of me.  I just hope I don’t fail them.

23 October, Sunday – ONE WEEK!

Jorn gave me the tour of the town, just so I don’t lose my way and I know the basic places I should be able to get to on my own – the internet café, the bars, and the shopping areas.  We also went to the museum, we didn’t go inside (for another time) but it was nice outside with a view of the river.  There’s a stadium with an Olympic-sized pool, which is free.  We went to Pandrillus, this other NGO working with drill monkeys. I met chimps and drills at the Drill Ranch.  We also went to AquaVista, a resort by the riverbank.  There was nothing really special about it except that it was about the only place in Calabar where it’s nice and quiet and you can read a book in peace.

I can’t believe I’ve been in Nigeria a week already!  I celebrated with my first local beer, Star.  All food here comes in huge servings, even their beer.

Now Jorn is here from Iroko Foundation from the UK, and he coordinates a project in which CERCOPAN and the Forest Ministry work together, the Botanical Gardens, which is supposed to be CERCOPAN’s new home.  Joern has laid out the whole place and has started constructing some parts, and I can really see where it was supposed to go, but the governor apparently changed his mind and wants to put in his own contractors and now, worse than nothing is being done, they’re even tearing down what Jorn had started.  I can understand his frustration, something I would probably encounter myself many times in this journey.  I talked to him a lot about the Philippines, and sure, we have similar problems and issues and frustrations,  but I guess it took me only a week here to really, really appreciate how the Philippines has progressed despite it all, and all the little steps that at least get taken.

Only my third day in Calabar and already I had gotten a machine to take me down to the bar where Nicky and Jan were, as they were gone when I got home and had left only a note for Zena to follow them at the Bush Bar, which isn’t really a bar, just a tiangge at the side of the road where you can order fresh fish a few steps away and have it cooked and brought to the Bush Bar.  It’s rather like Sarah’s but with only four tables.  

i was off to an exciting start in abuja, the capital of nigeria, as my handbag (together with my cellphone, cash and IDs) disappeared on my 2nd day. i arrived in calabar, cross river state last night after an eventful 12 hours+ of travel. and i thought drivers in the philippines were crazy! i went to our head office this morning, where we have 80+ primates in rehab. CERCOPAN is primarily run by volunteers so we are an "international" organization. i am the only asian, and have travelled the fartherst to get here. in two weeks will be off to the village of iko esai, where i will be based. now THAT should be interesting... pls get in touch i am still only a text away. +234 0806 563 2515. next month i will have a smart sim card brought over so everyone can text me cheaply. i will try to fill up this blog with stories and photos next time. if you want to know more about my organization go to cercopan.org, if you're interested in volunteering, go to vso.org.uk. cheers!