From a transit hotel in Addis...

I write from the luxurious surroundings of the 'Top Ten Hotel' in Addis Ababa, where we are in transit en route back to Abuja after two wonderful weeks in Tanzania. The hotel's website proudly informs guests that 'The Hotel will be one of international standard in the 4 star range and offer products and services comparable to that found in many oversees international Hotel', including a 'fast check-in and check-out time on which our guests will only take them 2-4 Minutes of their time'. We have not been disappointed. If only we had hot water, our happiness would be complete.

We spent Christmas with my mother and step-father in Mufindi, our favourite spot in Africa. The highlight of Christmas Day was – for the children, the fact that Father Christmas had managed to locate their whereabouts in another country – and for us, a nativity play staged at the Igoda children’s village. An adolescent Joseph and Mary had a full-on Kiswahili shouting match when he discovered she was pregnant, a live baby was produced from a cardboard box in the stable, the shepherds had a tough job rounding up flocks of human sheep, the three Wise Men rode human camels, and the hoards of visitors calling to pay homage to baby Jesus under the Christmas tree in the corner of the schoolroom caused the entire tree to topple over, narrowly missing the Angel Gabriel.

We spent New Year at the Ruaha River Lodge – our first visit since 2008 - where we met up with some friends from Abuja, went on several memorable game drives, spotted some lions, spent far longer than necessary watching the ball-rolling antics of dung beetles and passed the odd tranquil hour sitting outside our banda watching hippos play in the river.

Despite a beautiful holiday, all four of us are now rather ill - I have a streaming cold, Simon has flu-like symptoms (and told me today he’s been having pains in his kidneys for the past four days; a minor detail he apparently didn’t think worth mentioning before), the children are both snivelling and knackered. I also seem to have sprained my ankle in my sleep last night, which is quite an impressive achievement given that it was fine when I went to bed.

Notwithstanding our various ailments, we had a good flight here from Dar although, writing those words, I realise that the bar for what constitutes a ‘good flight’ has descended somewhat in recent years. It used to mean Simon and I getting through multiple gin and tonics, a couple of decent movies and polishing off at least one novel each. These days it means arriving at our destination with both children intact, not leaving anything of major importance on the aeroplane and making it through arrivals without losing Alex, Freya or our tempers. Rather frustratingly, Freya has recently taken to equating arriving at airports with a seemingly irresistible need to slide along the floor on her knees. (Alex actively encourages this irritating behaviour: When we last passed through Addis airport, we came out of baggage reclaim with Alex and Freya very sweetly holding hands and trundling along behind us. The next thing I heard were screeches of laughter from the assembled Ethiopian meters-and-greeters as Freya dived on to the floor and Alex, still holding her hand, dragged her slithering along on her tummy for a good ten metres).

I must admit I quite enjoy these transit stops in Addis – this is our fourth – as it does give one time to adjust from holiday mode back to gritty reality. And reality will begin with a bump tomorrow as I log on to the internet for the first time in two weeks, gear up for a British Council training workshop we’re running next week and try and catch up with all the publishing-related correspondence. This little breather has also allowed me the time to make some belated New Year’s resolutions, which I hereby declare: 1) Try to be more patient with the children (and Simon), especially when I’m tired; 2) Go to bed earlier; 3) Read a book a week; 4) Admit I’m never, ever going to have time to read the whole of The Economist every week and stop hoarding the back issues next to my bed; 5) Blog more frequently, even if the posts are short ones. Hhhm. I rate my chances with 3) and possibly 5). 1) will be almost entirely dependent on 2); 4) is never going to happen. Let's see how this goes, 2015...

Ebola update...and illegal chickens

This is one crazy country. I checked the online news before going out this evening and was delighted to read that 'Nigeria announces containment of Ebola, 2 more discharged, last patient stable'. Then when I was out at supper, my friend received a phone call to say that the government had just announced on TV that all primary and secondary schools in Nigeria are to remain closed until October 13th. October 13th! That's almost 7 weeks away! Alex is already climbing the walls after being back in Abuja for a week and I am desperate for school to start - the new academic year is due to commence next Monday. (And before I say any more, I recognise the contradictory nature of my position as before the summer break I was literally counting the hours until the end of term when I could take Alex out of school and stop worrying about the possibility of getting caught up in a Boko Haram attack. And now I am aghast that schools are not being allowed to open. Just shows what this place does to you).

What has incensed me is the utterly irrational behaviour of the government. On the same day that the Minister of Health annnounces that Ebola is basically under control, the Minister of Education declares that all schools will remain closed until 13th October. And this is all schools. Not just schools in Lagos, the only city in which there have been cases of the virus, but all schools in Nigeria. It is totally bonkers. The official statement said that the reason for the closure was 'to ensure the safety and well-being of all students in our schools throughout the Federation' and to allow time for two teachers in every public and private school in the country to be 'trained by appropriate health workers on how to handle any suspected case of Ebola and embark on immediate sensitization of all Teaching and non-Teaching Staff in all schools on preventive measures'.

So, having decided that the Nigerian government was actually handling this whole Ebola outbreak quite sensitively and sensibly, I have now revised my opinion somewhat. One sure way to create panic within a population is to close all the schools. And the edict makes no sense. Ebola is very hard to catch - you have to have contact with bodily fluids of an infected person and an Ebola sufferer is actually only contagious when they develop the symptoms (which are hardly difficult to spot, even by untrained staff; I imagine a child suffering from severe fever, intense weakness, vomiting, diarrhoea and bleeding from the eyes might catch the attention of even the most unobservant teacher). The incubation period is from 2 to 21 days, but people are not contagious during this time. There is absolutely no reason why schools need to close. Imagine the inconvenience for millions of parents. And if schools, then why not universities, or cinemas or hospitals? I honestly don't know why I'm surprised; given that the federal government's security strategy for the World Economic Forum in May involved ordering a complete shutdown of Abuja for three days, this news should hardly come as a shock. And taken in the context of a dysfunctional education system where universities, polytechnics and Colleges of Educations regularly shut down for months on end due to strike action, a mere delay of 7 weeks to the start of term is small beer. (The Colleges of Education returned to class in late July after a 7 month strike; the polytechnics returned on 14 July having been on strike - for 10 months - since October 3rd. And this was hot on the heels of a dispute at the public universities, where staff were on strike for 6 months during the second half of 2013). So despite the frustrations of the school closure, we should spare a thought for a Nigerian student trying to pursue a tertiary education course here (not to mention a harassed mother of two small children trying to work on a research project within the Nigerian higher education sector).

But this is Nigeria and I have realised that the way to cope with life here is not to take anything too seriously. This is actually relatively easy to do when the headline of the second most important item of news on the Nigerian agenda tonight reads: Deputy Governor Of Enugu State Impeached For Running A Poultry At The Government House.

Salt Water and Sheep Dip

I was supposed to be giving a presentation at a conference in Lagos today but instead spent the morning at a 'Coffee morning & Ebola Briefing' (now there's a sentence I didn't imagine I'd ever be writing) here in Abuja. Such are the vagaries of diplomatic life. Or at least diplomatic life here in Nigeria - I don't remember attending too many briefings about fatal diseases during our posting in Washington DC. It probably says something about my relaxed, post-holiday state of mind that the words 'coffee morning' grabbed my attention more than 'Ebola briefing' but I was really excited to have the chance to catch up with friends after a summer away - there's a great community at the High Commission here and it was fun to see everyone again.

Despite the continuing terrorist attacks in the north of Nigeria whilst we were away (including a suicide bombing at Kano state polytechnic, one of the institutions at which our research assistants are collecting data for the British Council research project I’m working on), Abuja itself feels relatively relaxed at present - I think partly because the media is currently more focused on the threat from Ebola than terrorism. (When we were transiting through Addis last week and were asked where we were travelling to, we received several ‘Good Luck with Ebola’ wishes, which made a pleasant change from the previous default response of ‘Take care with Boko Haram’). There have been five deaths so far from Ebola in Nigeria, all in Lagos and involving people who had direct contact with Patrick Sawyer, the Liberian-American who brought the disease to Nigeria. Contrary to expectation, the Nigeria government has been pretty responsive to the threat and appears to be taking significant measures to ensure that the virus is contained. When we arrived at Abuja airport yesterday we were asked to stand in a line whilst a security guard wearing a face mask and gloves pointed a gun at our temples and fired a red laser at us. I think he was trying to take our temperatures. 

The biggest problem the authorities face is lack of education. When the first cases of Ebola were reported in Lagos, millions of text messages were sent out instructing Nigerians to bathe in and drink large quantities of salt water, preferably before a 4am deadline, in line with nonsensical advice issued by the Attah of Igala. Several people died as a result of consuming too much saline liquid. 

We are lucky in that we have access to a good health clinic and an inbox full of advice about avoiding the disease. The risk of catching Ebola is miniscule, but it doesn't stop friends worrying about us. We have just been back to the UK for my god-daughter's wedding in Suffolk. Having clearly received a text directly from the Attah of Igala, the friends we were staying with offered to install a sheep dip at the end of their drive for us to pass through before entering their house...

Tanzanian Tales

We’re back home tonight after a wonderful three weeks away in Tanzania. This was the first time we had taken the children to East Africa and it was absolutely fantastic to introduce them to our favourite country. We spent most of our time visiting friends down in Mufindi and Iringa, before finishing up with a few days relaxing on the beach near Bagamoyo. 

We stayed with our friend Sion in Dar for a couple of days at the start of the trip and had great fun catching up on several years' worth of news whilst the children made themselves at home in the playroom. Some aspects of the city have changed significantly since I was last in Dar 5 years ago. The traffic was much worse (it took us a full two hours to crawl from the airport to the Peninsular), the supermarkets are swankier and the High Commissioner's Residence (my future home - I am seriously thinking of applying for the job of High Commissioner's wife regardless of whether Simon ever bids for the role of High Commissioner) has been painted a very odd shade of mustard yellow.

We travelled down to Mufindi via Mikumi national park, where we stayed overnight at Stanley’s Kopje, with its stunning views and canvas cabins. After the drive down from Dar, the children were a little tired as we entered the park. Freya slept throughout the 2 hours that it took us to reach our camp, missing a close encounter with 4 staring buffalo (I was too scared to take a photo) and a glimpse of a family of elephants which even prompted Alex to look up from his colouring for a second and breathe a quiet ‘wow’. I’m not sure that Freya completely understood the concept of a visiting national park in Tanzania. When we asked her on the guided game drive which animal she’d most like to spot, her reply was instantaneous: ‘a sheep’. 

Fortunately for Freya, we headed off to Mufindi the next day to visit friends at the wonderful Highland Lodge, where there were plenty of farmyard animals of all descriptions to engage with. Her wish was granted and she fed a lamb – and a rather greedy calf - from a bottle. Mufindi is rapidly becoming our second home – it is stunningly beautiful and very close to our hearts. This is where we have planted a small plantation of pine trees - the objective being to harvest them in 10 years' time and start building the dream home (well, Simon's dream home - my heart is still set on the High Commissioner's Residence in Dar). Mufindi is also the location of the Igoda Children's Village project with which Simon has been closely involved with for almost a decade, and it was great to have the chance to catch up with developments in person. The community has been ravaged by AIDS but the charity is making a huge difference - from being on its knees ten years ago the community is now much more robust and able to support itself. We took the children to visit the nursery school affiliated to the project, I toured the sewing school and Simon visited the hospital at Mdabulo, which has been transformed since our last visit. Our friends Geoff and Jenny have been running the project for the past six years and now have two children of their own (the fabulously named Twilu and Tuke, two auburn-haired dynamos whom Alex kept referring to as 'the orphans' until I explained to him that Geoff and Jenny were actually their Mum and Dad).

We were incredibly well looked after by the entire Fox family and the children managed to fit in several firsts during their stay in Mufindi: first time sleeping in bunk beds; first time on a horse – Freya looking particularly impressive on her mighty steed, she has fabulous posture and no fear at all; first time on a quad bike; first attempt at fly-fishing and first time making a bow & arrow. I took the children to the trout hatchery to watch a rather messy process that I'd rather not describe (suffice to say that I now feel slightly queasy whenever Freya, who still has difficulty pronouncing her ‘k’s, asks for ‘milt’ to drink).

Upon leaving Mufindi, we made the journey – three hours by road – to Banawanu, a tiny village near Iringa, where our dear friend Christina was awaiting us. This was a poignant visit. We named our son Alex after our Tanzanian friend Alex Kibiki, one of the kindest, gentlest and special people one could ever hope to meet. Incredibly sadly, Alex was killed in a road accident three years ago - knocked off his piki-piki (little motorbike) by a lorry as he rode into work in Iringa - and he and our little Alex were never able to meet. Alex’s death still feels very raw and I had been trying hard not to think too much about the moment when we would arrive in Banawanu and he wouldn't be there to welcome us. He is buried, alongside other members of the community, in a little shamba just behind the house, surrounded by maize and shaded by avocado and papaya trees. We visited the grave, and Christina spoke to him and told him we had come to visit, and I just about held it together until we were walking back to the house. Simon came for the wake but this was the first time that I had visited since Alex died. I still feel profoundly affected by Alex’s death, I think partly because he represented to me all that is good about Tanzania - he was honest, hard-working, caring, inquisitive, enormous fun and had the potential to make a real difference to his community - and his death feels like such a waste. He had put himself through four years of agricultural and veterinary training in Arusha, spending months apart from Christina and their three daughters in order to complete his education. On my last visit, he had just established a local veterinary practice in Iringa and we accompanied him on his rounds as he inspected a cow in difficulties and castrated a dog (without anaesthetic – Simon’s eyes still water every time he thinks about it). Alex's death also represents the fragility of life here, and this was brought home to me yet again on this visit with the news that Alex and Christina's daughter, Rose, who is currently at secondary school up in Mwanza, had just been diagnosed with typhoid. She was receiving treatment and was doing ok, but is still very weak. 

Despite the sad circumstances, we had a wonderful time during the three days we spent with Christina. The children were able to sample ugali, mandazi, rice and beans, and fish cooked on a charcoal fire. They absolutely loved bathing from a bucket of hot water - I've never heard Freya giggle so much - and had great fun pretending to serve customers in Christina's little duka, whilst Simon sat outside on the little verandah drinking Safari beer and practising his Kihehe with the locals. We visited one of Christina's neighbours who had offered to give us some milk for Freya's breakfast - and Alex helped to milk the rather surprised cow! We called in at the house in Tosamaganga in which Simon and his friend Jonathan (now Freya's godfather) lived when they were both VSO volunteers. Iringa was much the same, with the exception of a swish new café and bookshop aimed at ex-pats. There were even a couple of mamas in the market who still remembered Simon and Jonathan, which I think was just about the high point of Simon's trip. 

We spent another night in Mikumi on the way back to Dar – this time in Vuma Hills, another of the Fox’s stunning camps. We had a fabulous game drive in the evening, where we spotted lions, crocs and hippos as well as the 'usual' animals. The game drives were notable for the questions they prompted from the children, who were a lot more engaged with the whole experience on the second Mikumi visit. 'Can a hyena run as fast as a lion?', asked Alex. 'Do giraffes sleep standing up? Can warthogs swim?' Not to be outdone, Freya joined in with her own questions: ‘Can a hyena eat a house?’ ‘Can a hyena fly a plane’? ‘Have you ever seen a hyena eat a malaria tablet?’ ‘Do sharks eat carrots?’ ‘Can a lion eat you if you’re sitting on its back?’

We spent our last three nights on the beach at Lazy Lagoon – a wonderful place to finish off the trip, where we did nothing much but play with the children, swim, tuck into delicious meals and read a couple of novels. All was well in paradise until the last evening when Freya jumped on the bed and split her head open on the bed post. Some homemade butterfly stitches seem to have done the trick – let's just hope the wound has healed well enough to take them off by the time she is a bridesmaid next Saturday...

This really was the most fantastic family holiday - it truly felt as if we were making memories. I'm not sure how much the children will remember of their first trip to Tanzania, so asked each of them (and Simon) to tell me what they enjoyed most about the entire experience. And here's what they said:

Highlight of Simon’s holiday: Alex marching up to the Masai guard at Vuma Hills and asking to see his knife; Alex finding a homemade football (made of plastic bags and elastic bands) and wanting to bring it home.

Highlights of Alex’s holiday: Meeting Christina and seeing Alex’s grave. (I totally welled up when he gave that answer).

Highlights of Freya’s holiday: Playing with in the playroom at Sion’s house; sleeping in the little bed at Sion’s house; playing with the pussy cat at Sion’s house (I honestly don’t know why we bothered to take her along).

As for me:

Highlights of my holiday: Playing ‘Happy Families’ in a hammock on Lazy Lagoon; seeing lions on the game drive, drinking tea on the verandah at the Southern Highlands Lodge.

A New Kind of Normal

I'm sitting in a very cool little hotel in Lagos, feeling more relaxed than I have done for some time. Bogobiri House is remarkable not only for the fact that it has functioning wi-fi (rather a novelty in Nigerian hotels), but also for its unusual decor and chilled-out customer service. It feels more like a back-packers in that regard, with guests hanging out in the little bar/restaurant area with live jazz in the background. So here I am, enjoying a plate of fish, rice and piri-piri sauce, watching the US-Argentina match and enjoying the hotel in all its 'Afroliciousness'.

It feels a million miles from Abuja, where things are very tense at present. The Banex bombing has shaken people more than I had anticipated. The bombing itself was awful, but I thought that people seemed quite resilient in the immediate aftermath. What has been more worrying has been the dozens of rumours - on list-serves, at the schools gates, in the office - about where the next target will be; speculation is rife about which market, schools or shopping centres will be hit next by the terrorists. There is a much more visible police, and army, presence on the streets. The High Commission driver I was talking to yesterday said that he feels nervous when he is caught in stationary traffic; no-one wants to be sitting in one place for too long. I saw this for myself a couple of days ago - I was caught in a small traffic jam in the centre of town and after a minute or two people started reversing, backing away down the pavements, not wanting to be trapped for too long in one location.

Our local market, which houses about twenty stalls selling fresh fruit and vegetables, has been closed down since Thursday. This is a very unusual move; no-one I have spoken to can ever remember it having been closed before, even on public holidays, excepting the three days in May when the World Economic Forum came to town and the government declared a city-wide shutdown. But a market like this is a security nightmare - one pulls up and parks right outside the stalls and there are always dozens of people milling around: a great target for a car bomber. So, for now, the market has been shut up - tarpaulins cover all the stalls and a lone armed policeman sits guarding the site from his battered blue plastic chair.

However, as I drove to the airport this morning, I noticed that some of the more enterprising stallholders have set up little makeshift stands along the side of the road, a few hundred metres from the official market, selling their fruit and vegetables from wheelbarrows and wooden crates. These stallholders rely on their sales for their livelihoods and so have adapted to the changed circumstances. It made me think about how my own routines have changed since last Wednesday. I now consciously drop the children at home before going to the supermarket and choose driving routes where I know I don't pass by crowded areas. We had vegetables delivered to the house from Jos this week - and have started baking our own bread, which we usually buy from the local market. Rather than meeting a couple of friends for dinner at a restaurant last night, we chose to rendez-vous at home - in the current environment, going out to bars or restaurants feels like a risk. A very small risk, but one we don't need to take and so therefore, at least for the time being, won't. I guess this is the new kind of normal.

Fortunately, the children don't seem to have picked up on any of the security worries - and we've been very careful not to talk about any of the bombings in their presence. Apart from all school outings (including a much-anticipated trip to the zoo) being cancelled this term, there hasn't been any direct impact on their routines. Alex is very settled at school now and told me this morning he wants to stay in Nigeria for '8 years' (8 being his favourite number at present). We had one of his schoolfriends over for a playdate on Saturday and her mother said that she had decided not to send her daughter to school for the last week of term (which finishes this Friday). I seriously thought about keeping Alex home too, but decided that the impact of him missing school - not from an academic perspective, but because he has been looking forward to the end of term parties and films - far outweighed the tiny chance of anything happening. It feels like a big call, but we also reasoned that, if the school had decided it was safe to open, it was important for us to support them in that decision. Nevertheless, I must admit every time I think about the fact that he is away from us during the day it makes me feel incredibly nervous and I am literally counting the hours until the end of term.

Anyway, we just need to get to the end of this week and then the children and I will be away for most of the summer - I'm going back in the UK for a conference and a wedding, and then we're taking the children to Tanzania for three weeks. So by the time we return in late August, I'm sure the city will have settled down again, I'll be feeling much more relaxed and the new normal will have become the default setting. And I've got a trip up to the far more laid-back environs of Ibadan and Ife to look forward to over the next couple of days, which I'm sure will help me regain some perspective. And in the meantime, I'm just going to enjoy sitting here and chilling out to this mellow jazz.

Banex bombing

Just a quick post to say that we're all fine and thank you to everyone that has emailed. The bomb that went off this afternoon near the Banex shopping plaza was pretty worrying for us - it is fairly close to where we live, and not far from Alex's school. I actually heard the blast from the office, but was feeling so relaxed and pleased to be back in Abuja that I put it down to a larger-than-usual blast from the local quarry, which does sometimes overdo the dynamite.

Horrific as the incident was - and unspeakably awful for those caught up in it, and their families - people seem to be generally less shaken than the previous bombings. We had to stay put in the office until we got the all-clear, but there didn't seem to be the sense of fear that there had been with the Nyanya bombings. Perhaps this had something to do with preparedness - whilst it was shocking that this blast occurred in central Abuja, it doesn't feel like a massive surprise that the capital has been targeted again, knowing how the Boko Haram campaign has been intensifying over recent weeks (there was a bomb at the School of Hygiene in Kano on Monday, another 90-odd people abducted in Borno this week and a bomb in a market in Adamawa this afternoon). But the timing was also a factor - the bomb went off shortly after 4pm, and Nigeria were due to kick-off in their World Cup game against Argentina at 5pm. So actually whilst we were on lock-down in the office, staff were more concerned about ensuring they weren't missing the match than about the implications of the bombing. And the bomb scene apparently cleared very quickly - usually one might expect crowds to gather and hang around for some time, but this wasn't the case today as everyone disappeared to go and watch the football. 

I returned home by about 5.30pm to find Alex and Freya in rambunctious mood. Completely oblivious to the severity of the security situation, they took great delight in showing me their new trick of 'face-planting' (see Facebook for the video). I then took Alex out to the guard house to watch the second half of the football (we didn't renew our TV subscription so need to beg a favour if we want to follow the football), which was a great diversion. And then we welcomed a friend who has arrived to stay this evening - and suddenly life seems relatively normal again. We'll have to see what the fallout is tomorrow, but tonight I'm not feeling particularly shaken myself. Instead, I just keep thinking about all the poor people who were so indiscriminately and unfairly killed or injured, and all those in the emergency services who risk their lives to help them. 

Back to Abuja

I returned to Abuja on Thursday after almost a month in the UK. It has been three weeks since I saw Simon and the children, who travelled home to Abuja at the beginning of June, leaving me in London to concentrate on a couple of introductory PhD courses.

It’s great to be back – the security situation in Abuja seems quite a lot calmer than when I left (or perhaps I am calmer than when I left) and the weather is lovely – the rains have begun in earnest now so the temperature is hovering nicely in the high 20s. And although I’m still not used to the UHT milk, the total lack of recycling facilities or the unspeakable rudeness of the lady who rents out the baggage trolleys at Abuja airport, there is a lot about our life here that is very comfortable and I do feel very at home here now. And it’s good to be back in my own bed after a month away.

Simon seems to have coped admirably without me – although admittedly these things are made slightly easier when one has a full-time nanny and housekeeper to help out at home – and apparently the children have been on their best behaviour. They have been having a great time in my absence – although I culdn’t help but notice that a swing, slide, see-saw, little house and large paddling pool have appeared in the garden since I was last here, which may explain the good behaviour. Alex seems to have grown about a foot and Freya is talking even more assertively (read bossily) than ever. I’m trying to spend as much quality time with the children as I can this weekend – and consequently we’re already halfway through reading ‘The Enchanted Wood’ (Alex now goes by the appellation ‘Mr. Watzisname’ and Freya answers only to ‘Silky’) and have already opened the new painting kit and sticker books I was saving for the summer holidays. And – thank you to all of you that have been asking - Alex has completely settled down at school now and has been telling me the names of the friends he’s grown since I’ve been away. The only downside of my return home is that I discovered en route to the airport that enormous quantity of cheese I'd amassed after a raid on the dairy aisle at Tesco's is still in my mother's fridge in Surrey...