Geneva notes, recent reading, politics UK and Naija

Got back from Geneva on Saturday but was so exhausted that I haven't really been able to blog. Why does work always pile up whenever you're away, wiping out any benefits of the time away....

Geneva felt a bit like Abuja in the 1990s - pretty soulless, civil service like and expensive. Walking through the city centre and the old town, I searched in vain for residential areas. Later I went to dinner with a colleague based in Geneva- he lives with his family in a pretty little village outside Geneva. I wondered whether most people did that....

I also found out why Swiss cuisine hasn't made it on to the international list of most-desirable national cuisines. I'd wanted to go to a traditional Swiss restaurant and was advised to go to one in the old town where the claim to fame was that the Clintons had once dropped in for lunch there. The guide book said they'd had the sauerkraut but it wasn't on the menu as the rather bossy waitress soon made clear. Switzerland is famed for its fondues so I felt I had to try it out. It basically turned out to be a pot of boiling cheese into which I was provided a long fork with which to dip pieces of bread in. The waitress did not even change the bread basket- it was the leftover from the starters that was offered. In the end I struggled through but as one of my dining companions said what I'd basically had was bread and cheese, forget the fancy name....

Geneva had its high points though- the Flower Clock, the amazing Jet D'eau Fountain and a cruise along the lake, as well as another meal at the Buffet of the Station of Living Waters (Buffet de la Gare Eaux Vives) made up for all of Geneva's shortcomings...

Flying out from London City Airport on Wednesday night, I was struck by how white and male the City still seems. Most of my fellow travellers were obviously business travellers and there was hardly a woman or person of colour to be seen among them...

I've been enjoying Claire Messud's The Emperor's Children which is set in New York just before September 11. I think it's one of the best books I've read since Half of a Yellow Sun- it's meaty, got a good story, muses on interesting ideas and is beautifully written. It featured in many people's best books of 2006 lists and I can see why...

I also enjoyed another sort of New York book- Kamran Nazeer's Send in the Idiots, an account of his trying to trace his classmates from a special programme for autistic children in New York in the 80s. It's well written with fascinating insights...

Meanwhile in Nigeria I stil struggle to make sense of the machinations surrounding the elections- court case and counter court case and all that stuff with the Senate and the PTDF report- what on earth is really going on?

In the Observer on Sunday, Tony Blair flies a kite about David Milliband, the young and affable Minister for the Environment challenging Gordon Brown for the leadership of the Labour Party. I've always thought that he'd be a better match for Cameron than old tired Gordon who is inextricably linked in the public's mind (despite his best efforts) to Bliar...See Milliband's blog here http://www.davidmiliband.defra.gov.uk/blogs/ministerial_blog/default.aspx

On the subject of British politics, the question of the number of Old Etonians in David Cameron's shadow cabinet has come under scrutiny . This old Guardian story focuses on the question http://www.guardian.co.uk/guardianpolitics/story/0,,1843008,00.html

Judging from the few Etonians that I've met- it is a cause for concern - they (through no fault of theirs I might add) seemed so far removed from ordinary day to day life that the thought of people like them making all the policy decisions worries me..

Cold snap, dining at St John, tourist Nigeria and an Adichie update

The weather has suddenly turned very cold, just when I was about to pack away my gloves and hat and other winter gear and luxuriate in the warming sunshine, the weather flipped again. Yesterday afternoon, walking to a meeting I was nearly caught in a sudden flurry of snow. It appeared and disappeared all within the space of five minutes and as I was suddenly thrust into the glare of winter sunlight I was left wondering if I had dreamt it all up...

A friend sent me a DVD recording of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's appearance on Richard and Judy. It was haunting with music from the war playing in the background and the gorgeous Adichie speaking softly about how she wanted to write a book about human beings and love as black and white pictures from Biafra flashed slowly in the background. I had goosebumps watching it. If only I was techie enough to upload it to youtube or something- but perhaps that would breach copyright.... Molara Wood of wordsbody does have photos here http://wordsbody.blogspot.com/search/label/Half%20of%20a%20Yellow%20Sun

BBC reporter Raageh Omar and actor Brian Cox loved it. If you loved Half of a Yellow Sun, you can vote for it at the Richard and Judy Bookclub here http://www.richardandjudybookclub.co.uk/ It looks like there's a problem with the book club site though as it seems to keep crashing...

Half of a Yellow Sun is longlisted for the Orange Prize for this year together with The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai which won the Booker last year and A Concise Chinese English Dictionary for Lovers which I recently blogged about.... For the full list of nominated books see here http://www.orangeprize.co.uk/opf/news.php4 Also on the longlist are two books I recently read but didn't particularly enjoy- Rachel Cusk's Arlington Park and Rachel Seiffert's Afterwards- they're both well written but somehow failed to grab and keep my attention. Speaking of which Jonathan Raban's Surveillance after finally mid-book getting me interested in the fate of the characters finishes abruptly, inconclusively.

Had an amazing meal to celebrate a friend's birthday at St John, the restaurant famed for its use of unconventional meat cuts, the nose to tail approach to eating. I liked the unpretentious rough hewn, almost Hogarthian feel to it- no fuss- plain stone floors and wooden chairs and the food was stunning- I had pig's head to start (and although I had expected to be presented with a whole head on the plate) it turned out to be slivers of pig's head done in a light sauce and served with butter beans and some miniasparagus like vegetable which I could not identify. For my main course, I resisted the urge to order something conventional like lamb or guineafowl and went instead for the ox heart with chips, a choice I did not regret- the ox heart was presented in thin delicate delicious slivers. The baked egg custard lightly sprinkled with nutmeg was a taste sensation- I left the restaurant tight as a drum...

A fellow diner asked where I was born and when I said Nigeria asked what tourist sights I would recommend. I admit I was slightly caught on the back foot and managed to blurt out Calabar and Obudu cattle ranch and Kano for its old walled city and Abuja if you wanted to play it safe and Lagos if you wanted something edgier. In the end I recommended the Bradt Travel Guide to Nigeria which I've flicked through but wondered if I shouldn't have done a better job of selling my country....

I rang a friend whose grandmother died recently in Nigeria to pass on my condolences. I asked when the funeral was. "Oh we're planning to wait till after the elections in April, who knows what might happen" And so we all continue to wait with bated breath....

Something's come up at work so I have to go to Geneva tonight. I'll see if I can blog from there depending on how busy I am. In any case, I'm back at the weekend

Weekend runs, Nigerians in the UK, Yaradua webforum and writers wanted

Busy weekend. Friday night went out with a bunch of new work colleagues. One of the girls got really drunk and started spilling all sorts of details about her personal life- how she couldn't get a man, giving a colourful catalogue of her recent dating history, her recent forays into the speed dating world etc etc Just remembering it in the cold sunshine of this morning, I cringe for her. I wish there was a subtle way I could let her know that much as letting your hair down with work colleagues from time to time is a good thing, there are certain boundaries that it’s unwise to cross….

Saturday saw me making a foray into middle England, going to dinner with a friend’s family in the leafy Telegraph-reading, Women’s Institute infested commuter belt of Surrey. It was a very pleasant evening despite my initial misgivings, although we did skate on fairly thin ice when the topic turned to immigration. My hostess very deftly turned us on to more pleasant, less contentious topics and we tucked into the delicious quiche lorraine starter followed by honeyed duck with mash and peas and then cheese and a lemon sponge. By the time we sipped our after dinner cognac, I was a lot more tolerant of their views and way of life, and more conscious of how divorced London life is from the stereotypical middle England….

Sunday was the St Patrick’s Day celebration and I ended up dodging the crowds in green reveling in Trafalgar Square as I made my way southwards for lunch with old Nigerian family friends. As we tucked into akara (flatter than the typical Nigerian version and more like mini-pancakes) followed by a sumptuous jollof rice with spiced fish and chicken, I listened to my hosts talk about their arrival in Britain over four decades ago and their experiences. Their evident pride in their children’s achievements- the strings of degrees, the high flying jobs in law and medicine and business, contrasted with their heart rending stories of their early struggles. Surprisingly enough, they were all still seriously interested in contemporary Nigerian politics and we had a good debate about the forthcoming presidential elections. The encounter had me wondering if anyone had actually written a history of Nigerians in the UK. Judging from the colourful stories I heard yesterday- there’d be lots of material…. It reminded me of a book I stumbled across at the library recently called Black Londoners 1880-1990 by Susan Okokon which told a fascinating story of black professionals in London in the 19th and 20th centuries….

I see Yaradua and Goodluck have set up a web discussion forum- the admin left a message on this blog http://yaraduagoodluck.info/ . They warn that they may be unable to reply to posts as they are on the campaign trail. The current debate is about how to end fuel scarcity and power cuts- I think they ought to start by identifying and making public who imports all the fuel that Nigeria uses and also who imports all the generators. The rumours (trust Naija) have long held that there are very powerful people behind both businesses who sabotage any attempt at tackling the problems of fuel scarcity or power supply...

I'd like to ask them on the forum if they would pledge that within six months of taking office, they and their immediate families and cabinet will be barred from educating their children abroad or seeking medical treatment above. I'll post that as soon as I have been registered...

I got an e mail from a new Nigerian lifestyle magazine which is looking for contributors- for all of you in naijablogville with a passion for the written word, this may just be what you're looking for
http://www.bhfmagazine.com/

Surrealism at work, Bollywoodian Shakespeare, remembering physics lessons and shameful treatment of Tsvangirai

Over the last few days I have increasingly felt as if I am living in a scene from The Emperor’s New Clothes. I attended a few meetings with very senior policy makers at work to examine new proposals about work related issues. I was appalled at the disconnect between some of what they are proposing and the realities on the ground so to speak. I suppose this is one of the challenges of being a policy maker- how do you keep in touch with the realities on the frontline and take these into account when making decisions. I’m sure they are many ways of doing this effectively but for whatever reason they seem not to be working with us at the moment. I’ll keep giving my views, but it looks like the bosses’ minds are made up…Oh well, we’ll just have to wait and see how it all pans out. I wonder who’ll be picking up the pieces though…

Two nights ago, a friend invited me to a play, a South Asian interpretation of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. As I had studied it at school in Nigeria for a literature class in secondary school, I was keen to go. It was quite interesting with over eight different languages spoken- including a lover’s conversation where the actor spoke in Hindi while his lover responded in English. It was quite interesting because even without subtitles it seemed to work- you got the essence of the scenes whether you understood what the actors were saying or not. I did wonder though if it wasn’t a bit stereotypical- the bright colours and Bollywood like chorus and dance routines. If you’re in London, it’s worth dropping by. It’s at the Roundhouse in Camden…http://www.roundhouse.org.uk/whats-on/productions/a-midsummer-night-s-dream-755

On the tube this morning, on my way to work, I was standing and reading a book and there was no space for me to hold on to. Which meant that when the train shuddered to a stop, I found myself struggling to keep from toppling over. I soon realized that by standing with my legs spread out, I was able to maintain a sense of balance- which then took me back to my early physics lessons and Mr O’s lessons about a low centre of gravity and how by lowering your centre of gravity, you reduce the chances of toppling over. Who would have thought that those long-ago lessons in a dusty Nigerian classroom would find such immediate application here?

Yesterday, the photographs of a bruised and battered Morgan Tsvangirai, leader of the opposition in Zimbabwe on the front cover of many newspapers shamed me- as it ought every African. No matter what your position on Zimbabwe is, this level of violence is simply unacceptable. It puts into perspective recent references to a police state in the UK and Nigeria by different commentators. I was so disturbed by the picture that for the first time I've actually worked out how to upload photos to my blog. The picture is from sudonline.sn. even though I haven't got it exactly in the right place....

Back on the blog, ailing leaders, remembering IB and dreaming of Seattle

No, I wasn't ill or even any more depressed than normal. It was just work- another crazy fortnight of dashing back and forth and trying to meet deadlines on various projects. Looks like I've come out whole the other side and so am back here blogging.

While I was away from blogville I missed the whole "He's dead" "No, he's not" "Yes he is" drama surrounding Obasanjo's anointed , the blessed Yaradua. It turns out he was simply suffering from "severe catarrh" which left him breathless but necessitated a quick trip to Germany for treatment. This morning I wake up to learn that his main rival Atiku has been flown to the UK for surgery on his knee following a "domestic accident". Meanwhile Nigerian doctors have been on strike for a number of days now.So while the average Nigerian currently has virtually no access to medical treatment, the two leading contenders for the Nigerian Presidency jet off to various Western countries for THEIR treatment. Could someone throw down a gauntlet- can all of these contenders sign up to a pledge that if elected they will not seek medical treatment outside Nigeria- now that would motivate them to improve the health care system. I know I know, tell me I'm dreaming...

Well, Gordon Brown, the Iron Chancellor (who by the way is NOT Tony Blair's anointed) has been in the news here for using a private dentist at the cost of 100 pounds an hour for a root canal treatment. Initially the story that emerged was about how the dour Iron Chancellor had bravely had the treatment without any anaesthetic as he was due to deliver a speech a few hours later and was worried that anaesthetic would slur his speech. Soon, the focus turned to the fact that he had gone to a private dentist as opposed to an NHS one....

Years ago when I lived in Abuja I used to go to the bar at the Nicon Hilton Hotel (it was virtually the only place to hang out then) to listen to the live band that played there. There was the vertically challenged Don Bruce doing his James Brown imitation in his sprayed on seventies gear and then for a brief period there was IB- sassy, talented and giving as good as she got. In a country where albinos were still looked at with some ambivalence, she belted out popular tune after popular tune making each song her own, and seeking no sympathy or special treatment. With a caustic wit, she won admirers who regularly returned to hear her sing. After a while she disappeared and I often wondered what had become of her, until last week when I saw her reemerge on Pop Idols West Africa http://www.mnetafrica.com/idols/contestant/profile.asp?Id=1 - I don't know how she's doing on there, but I do wish her well, remembering with fondness the night she turned the hotel bar into a Deep South style gospel church at midnight, switching effortlessly from the secular songs that she'd been belting out seconds before-....

On Sunday afternoon I was invited to lunch at a friend's- it was a classic English meal with a lovely steak and kidney pie- the crust was melt in the mouth and it had a rich creamy sauce replete with meat. It made a welcome difference from the pounded yam and egusi that had been my staple diet for most of the week after a Nigerian friend had brought round a humongous pot of soup. Back to the lunch- we had sticky toffee pudding with custard to finish and I must admit that the English do get their puddings/desserts/whatever you want to call it right

I've recently read and loved Xiaolu Guo's A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers. Written in the form of a diary by a young Chinese woman new to Britain, it's poignant but funny in its descriptions of her bewilderment with a new culture and a new English lover. I've also just finished George Alagiah's Home from Home: From Immigrant Boy to English Man, in which Alagiah, a senior newscaster with BBC who was born in Sri Lanka and grew up in Ghana and the UK tells his story. While I loved his first book A Passage to Africa, I was less enthused by this one. Partly because he tries to attack multiculturalism but fails like many critics to first define what he means by the term. And while he criticizes many new immigrants for refusing to fit in, he's less strident in the reverse - criticizing the structures and attitudes that fail even those who wish to. I would recommend it anyway as his insights into the life of an immigrant from his perspective are interesting. Now I've started on Jonathan Raban's book Surveillance. I loved Waxwings, his first book which made me want to visit Seattle- pages into the new one I begin to feel the urge again...