Coffee and Paracetamol!

‘Twas the night before Mawlid and not a sound was to be heard not even a mouse. Not exactly...

Laying beneath my mosquito net and trying vainly to get to sleep, a lizard starts running back and forth across the window screen. I throw a t shirt at it and it leaves abruptly! I then hear it clamber across my tin roof. Why is it one’s knowledge of the world is never remotely conclusive? I thought lizards only became mobile in the sunlight, yet here we are, moon becoming brighter by the minute, it’s twenty five minutes to midnight and lizards are dancing around the house in around 25 degrees!

A scratching noise from the direction of my bedroom door forces me to turn my torch on. (Having had to chase a rat out of my colleagues’ house just the previous night, whilst they just screamed continuously; causing quite a commotion thank you very much... I wouldn’t have minded but the blighter lunged for me (trio of screaming momentarily...) before I shooed it out of the door with a broom), so did not fancy another round. No it was a large cockroach!  At least I think a 4 inch cockroach is a tad large. It didn’t appreciate the torch light, so left momentarily. I then pondered whether to get up and try and catch it or leave it alone as they go again by daylight. Oh no, it decides to come back with the express purpose to annoy me. So starts the game of “catch me if you can” for at least 10 minutes, chasing it around the walls and ceiling of the house. What my neighbours must have thought I do not know. Cockroaches are good at teasing you. They move so quickly, that even though I’m sure I’ve temporarily blinded it with my torch light, the bin I thrust down to capture it misses and it scoots a few centimetres out of reach. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I hit it with the broom. Having stunned it, I throw it quite ceremoniously out of the front door Fred Flinstone fashion.

Another battle won, I retreat to my room after getting a drink and settle down to some deserved sleep...  In the distance a dog barks and then the P.A. system in the traditional village next door starts up. I don’t believe it! Why start a gathering at midnight? (I find out the next day that the village were celebrating the birth of the Prophet Mohammed. Mawlid refers to the observance of this feast and is celebrated in the third month of the Islamic calendar (February time)). There were prayers, stories and singing especially from the children. However, this middle of the night interruption was compounded by the blasted guinea fowl outside my courtyard starting an almighty ruckus. This starts off the goat that’s tied to my neighbours’ fence ( He is the Hausa teacher at school – nice man called Abubaka, though why the goat is tethered I don’t know... Goats can have a really excruciating bleat, they also break wind constantly and loudly! There then follows at least an hour of cacophony that would drive a man to drink – except I have only water in the house. By 2:30am the night is at peace again. So I turn off the ipod (of which I am now thoroughly bored with) and settle for some quality sleep.  A cockerel crows, a dog barks and half an hour later the P.A. is at full volume again...

Nigerian schools start to take over my alert mind and before I know it: the 4am call to prayer starts in the town then passes across the countryside from village to village. 4:30am , 5am...  Cock starts crowing – again and again, then the dog barks, then the hideous guinea fowl start – what’s the use!  Well there are some e-mails to type so I may as well get up and by 6:17am precisely, the bees in the lemon tree are buzzing quite loudly and the birds are in full song. A dawn of a bright new day... quick get me some coffee and paracetamol!

Symbol of the Prophet Mohammad from Wikipedia

Local three & four year olds at school because the state funds a teacher! They sit in the shade of a tree as there is no room for them to go in. So even when the Harmattan wind is going strong, they chant and sing and listen to stories. Not one single piece of equipment exists for them to play or explore with!



Looking out from within! Children at the traditional village school (who would have been up all night for Mawlid). The school was not as bad as we thought it would be and compares favourably to others we have seen including the 'Model School'.

The staff of the local traditional village school. The women break off lessons to feed their own children whom they carry with them. Arabic, Maths, English, Hausa and PHE teachers compliment the staff. I'm stood next to the head teacher.