Crossing the River Niger
February 5, 2010

Today I got to cross the River Niger into Bayelsa State. It is territory held by rebels during the Biafran War of the late '60s. I have vivid memories of starving children and reported atrocities. My newest pictures feature fisherman paddling dugout canoes on slow moving water.

We went to Yenagoa, a new town built in the late '90s. As the capitol of the recently created state, it's very prosperous in some areas yet so very, very poor in others. Joel pointed out a dozen or more ‘McMansions’—the spoils of a political and power structure that stands on wobbly but venerable legs.

I met Joel at the Niger Delta Wetlands Centre (www.nigerdelta-wetlands.org)—a small training facility run by an American biologist who married a Nigerian man. Miriam has been working/living/raising children here for 30 years and has lots of insights about building and developing in the region.

How Big is Africa?

One of the most fascinating images of the day comes from a poster Miriam had prominently displayed. On a globe, Africa shows up in proper scale; in most 2D projections, the northernmost and southernmost areas take on undue size. Produced by Boston University, the graphic neatly superimposes the landmasses of the US, China and most of Europe onto the African continent. Where I'm sitting right now is just off the NE corner of SE Alaska. It's a BIG world out here!

One of the most disturbing images of the day comes from driving past the abandoned hospital grounds where the former-militants of the Niger Delta, those who gave up their arms in exchange for amnesty, gather daily to hang out. This morning, a few hundred; this afternoon, more than a thousand. It's tragic to see strong young men with little to occupy their bodies or their minds. They wait for things that will probably never come. They seethe with anger and bristle with boredom. It is such a waste...

Into the Bush
February 6, 2010

Victor, Joel + Jerry

At last, at last—a trip to the project's building site. Off we went early this morning to the village of Isaba, about an hour's bumpy drive southwest. Squashed into the backseat of the Toyota crew cab with Jerry-the-engineer and Joel-the-client, Victor-the-young-architect riding shotgun up front, I could feel the collective excitement.

Passing under the forever burning streetlights, we turned off the main road and into the bush, jogging around a cassava field before deadending at the property. It's a lovely, relatively flat 10 acres with good soils, a creek on its west border and an undisturbed swamp area in its NE corner. A few hundred yards to the W/NW is the Warri River. Boat transport will be the easiest and grandest way for guests to arrive.

The land has been previously cleared and cultivated. There's a few significant trees on the edges, all of which we will preserve. We found flowering bushes, nascent trees, ferns, vines, raffia palms, mosses and fungi. We stumbled upon wild cherry, a lovely plant eaten off the stem when it's purple. A local man reminded us it's used to treat fevers.

Hiking the perimeter was a dirty, sweaty affair filled with wonder, wandering and anticipation. The surveyor and the bulldozer showed up as we were backtracking.

The Queen and the Traveler

Upon leaving, we went to the village and sought out the king in his royal palace, a sand block house that is being doubled in size. Because I was the only woman, the queen, who spoke no form of English that I could understand but had the biggest, brightest smile, insisted that I take the chair between her and the king. As the men talked, Joel managed to get another 3 acres granted to the project while I nodded and smiled politely. In the end, we walked away with 30% more land, as the leadership institute will bring jobs and stature to the village of Isaba.

A Sunday Off
February 7, 2010

When life in the city gets rough, head for the countryside—which is exactly what we did this morning while everyone else was in church. Driving about an hour north, we were the day's first guests at a newish resort with a public swimming beach.

Monkeys in the Bushes

The rural quiet was so welcome and the beach was wonderful! The spring fed river (creek in local parlance) is clear, fast moving enough to ride the current, cool-but-not-cold and filled with freshwater fish. At one point, the crashing in the bushes across the way alerted me that the monkeys were, indeed, watching us

The trip back was not as easy as the trip out. For once, the NGO sign on the car did not automatically let us thru a checkpoint, as the security people thought we were in convoy with the two cars ahead. Joel's indignance prevailed—and my silver hair seems to command a good deal of respect in this country of strong mothers.

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