Just Like That

"Just Like That" is a 1986 Afrobeat song by Fela Kuti and his band, Egypt 80. Often described as a "shock and awe" track, it serves as a scathing commentary on the chaotic state of Nigeria and Africa during that era.

Key Themes and Context:

Political Disillusionment: The song reflects on Nigeria’s failed transition to democracy in 1979. Fela uses the lyrics to highlight the absurdity of war, corruption, and election rigging that left citizens "shocked and dumfounded".

Spiritual Influence: The track was recorded during a period when Fela was heavily influenced by Professor Hindu, a controversial spiritual adviser. This influence reportedly led Fela to reject a major record deal with Motown Records.

It was originally released as part of the album Teacher Don't Teach Me Nonsense in 1986.

Dakan

Plot: Manga and Sory are two young men in love with each other. Manga tells his widowed mother of the relationship, and Sory tells his father. Both parents forbid their sons to see each other again. Sory marries and has a child. Manga's mother turns to witchcraft to cure her son, and he unsuccessfully undergoes a lengthy form of aversion therapy. He meets and becomes engaged to a French woman called Oumou. Both men try to make their heterosexual relationships work but are ultimately drawn back to each other. Manga's mother eventually gives her blessing to the pair and the end of the film sees Sory and Manga driving off together towards an uncertain future.

Causing uproar in Guinea 29 years ago, Dakan has been hailed as the first West African film to tackle same-sex love. Yet its director would never make another feature film, and its legacy has been a warning for other filmmakers.

7 March 2022

By Chrystel Oloukoï

Dakan (1997) (With English Subtitles)

A high-angle camera zooms in on Manga and Sory, two high-school boys kissing passionately at night in a sulphurous red convertible car in Conakry, Guinea. The music is late Guinean singer Sory Kandia Kouyaté’s ‘Toutou Diarra’. This is the opening scene of Mohamed Camara’s Dakan (1997). It’s unforgettable in its heralding of night-time as a site of transgressive queer possibility, and for its bold pairing of a homoerotic encounter with a classic Mande song to the memory of great warriors of the region’s precolonial past.

Hailed as the first West African film to explore homosexuality, Dakan (‘destiny’ in Mandinka) premiered at Cannes in 1997, where it faced a mix of fiery rejection and fascination – both of which were to accompany the film for a long time to come. Camara often recalls how Djibril Diop Mambéty (Touki Bouki, 1973; Hyenas, 1992), a veteran of African cinema, walked out of the film’s press conference stating: “You can be sure that your career is over, but in a hundred years, people will still talk about you.”

The film had already barely come into being when its subversive theme led to the government withdrawing financial support. It made finding actors difficult. Camara’s own brother had to play Manga, while he himself acted as Sory’s father.

Screenings were a risky business. Dakan was shown at the 1999 FESPACO, having lived a full life on European and North American festival circuits already. As Beti Ellerson notes, the film’s theme enabled it to find a public outside of the usual viewership of African cinema, in particular in a number of independent and LGBT-themed festivals in the era of New Queer Cinema.

The film starkly divided audiences. Black, queer, continental and diasporic audiences from Soweto to Washington DC were enthralled. But in the filmmaker’s home country, it became the object of a national controversy. In a 2019 interview for AfroQueer podcast, Camara recollects changing hotels every day and leaving before the end of screenings to avoid potential violence.

Yet, Dakan wasn’t Camara’s first brush with public hostility. The charged themes of his previous short films – incest in Denko (1993) and child suicide in Minka (1994) – revealed his keen interest in familial dramas and the tension between social expectations and individual desires. What could be mistaken for a taste for the sensational was a deep desire to humanise complex social issues.

Aside from fascination and vilification, Dakan also met with frustration. Detractors and fans alike wrongly assumed Camara to be gay. They asked questions about the hidden realities of queer life on the continent that the filmmaker couldn’t answer. In both post-screening discussions and reviews, question were raised as to whether the world the film portrayed was even possible. It was, of course. Yet, Camara responded to these queries by speaking out against the realist imperative African filmmakers found themselves confined within. He spoke more in favour of creative individuality. His was a work of art, not a testament of existence nor an anthropological document.

The rhetoric had limitations, but it resonated in the context of African cinema often corralled into documentation by former colonial powers and newly independent governments alike. Camara belonged to a generation of Guinean filmmakers who were disenchanted with the overly didactic cinema of Syli-Cinema, Guinea’s Ministry of Information film unit under Sékou Touré’s Marxist and Pan-Africanist regime.

Mambéty aside, few could have predicted that Camara’s filmmaking career would end so abruptly. Since Denko won several prestigious prizes, Camara had embarked on his first feature, Dakan, as a director full of promise. But, 29 years later, he hasn’t been able to make another feature film.

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"Anengiyefa, based in London, pours passion into their blog "Things I Feel Strongly About"—a vivid, unfiltered space where deep reflections on Africa's rich cultural heritage collide with sharp critiques of colonialism's lingering scars, the invented fiction of race, and the pseudoscientific myths Europeans once spun to justify domination. With over two decades of wandering across the continent's diverse landscapes—from bustling markets to remote villages—they weave personal stories of warmth, Ubuntu-rooted hospitality, and human connection that defy stereotypes. 

Recent posts dive into the soul-stirring legacy of Fela Kuti's Afrobeat rebellion, the enduring ripple effects of European imperialism on African societies, and why the label "Black" carries problematic, historically loaded baggage rather than simple description. 

On X, @anengiyefa delivers incisive, no-holds-barred takes: defending Ukraine's fight against invasion, calling out racial biases baked into global conversations, championing human rights, and dismantling anti-imperialist hypocrisy. Whether highlighting how international rules matter profoundly to the Global South or rejecting excuses for prejudice ("That doesn't make her not racist"), the voice is consistently principled, intellectually fierce, and unafraid to challenge comfortable narratives."

Nurtrire

The word 'nursing' is derived from the Latin word 'nurtrire,' which means 'nourishing'. Nursing has maintained its status as a trusted and vital role for centuries.

In the late 1990s I would study during the day for my professional qualifying exams, and work at night on this job as a healthcare assistant in a hospital. It is perhaps what some might call moonlighting. I worked in this job for five years, between 1997 and 2002. I had taken a crash course in basic nursing. 

I think I would have made an excellent nurse if I'm to be honest. I had a feel for the job. This was the role I enjoyed the most in all the jobs I've done in my life, yes, even more than the legal work, which in later years became much more impersonal.

This was hard gruelling work, hands-on nursing on the wards, but I found myself enjoying it after a while. Looking after the patients and seeing them get better was rewarding. Some of them were very ill, and not all of them made it, meaning that for the first time ever I was made to confront dying and death as part of my job. That I found some fulfilment in the job came as a surprise really, as I was the squeamish type before then. 

I even toyed with the idea of embarking on full nursing training and gained admission to Kingston University to start a Nursing degree programme. But I took the advice of a friend who is a medical doctor, to pursue the legal qualification instead since I was already a qualified lawyer from abroad. I admit it was sound advice, although I think my friend might have had considerations in mind such as prestige, social status, and the remuneration aspect, none of which mattered much to me at the time as I was then driven entirely by passion. 

In May 2002 I was admitted to the Roll of Solicitors of England and Wales, so it was then that I made the switch and resumed my legal career, but I never overcame the sense of loss. 

Welcome

It is a deeply rooted, widespread tradition across many African cultures to be welcoming, hospitable, and respectful towards strangers. This practice is often rooted in indigenous philosophies like Ubuntu and others similar to it, where greeting and assisting anyone, regardless of whether they are known, is considered a duty, showing respect, and extending community kindness.

Key aspects of this tradition include:

Proactive Greetings: In many communities, it is customary to greet everyone you pass, even strangers, to show acknowledgment and respect.

Hospitality as Duty: Historically, travellers could rely on being offered food, water, and shelter in villages.

Formal Welcome: In some cultures, villages had specific, designated people or, in some cases, specific homes in the centre of the village, to receive and welcome visitors.

Shared Resources: Visitors were often treated as part of the community and permitted to use available resources. 

Cultural Significance: This, in part, stem from a belief that hospitality is good manners, enhances social reputation, and brings potential blessings.

It is this proclivity that was misinterpreted as timidity by early European visitors to the continent, for the Europeans were themselves more inclined towards aggressiveness. This clash of attitudes between Europeans and indigenous communities is repeated around the world wherever Europeans arrived for the first time. 

My own interpretation of the attitudes of indigenous African societies is that those attitudes reflected the fact that at the time of first contact with Europeans, indigenous African societies were socioculturally more highly evolved than their European counterparts. Anestral Africans had attained a high level of socio-cultural advancement, there was a high degree of social harmony. 

Image: Sign at the London Zoo. 

The term "Black"

The term "Black" has historically been used in a pejorative, derogatory, or stigmatised manner in many Western contexts, particularly during the eras of colonisation, slavery, and segregation. During the 17th–19th centuries, the term was often coupled with a social identity as an enslaved person and associated with negative stereotypes regarding intelligence and human dignity.

The perception of the word shifted dramatically in the 1960s. Activists and leaders, such as Kwame Ture (Stokely Carmichael), reclaimed the term to promote racial pride, solidarity, and power, countering the long history of negative, racist associations, such that today, "Black" is widely accepted and used as a standard, often capitalised, term for people of African descent, though some still debate its historical, or political implications.

"While it was once used as a derogatory term for a "negative foil to 'white'," it has been successfully reclaimed, moving from a label of oppression to one of pride." MissionUS — I genuinely dispute this. 

If anything, the embrace of the term Black  only reinforces the notion of otherness. I have great difficulty in embracing and taking pride in a term that its very purpose was, (and continues to be, in the minds of today's racists) the diminishment my very humanity. 

The Arab World — In many historical and contemporary contexts, the term for "Black" (aswad) or specific terms used to describe Black people in the Arab world have been, and often still are, used as a pejorative. Anti-Blackness in the Arab world is rooted in a long history of slavery, environmental, and theological prejudices, leading to the use of racialised slurs. The Arabic word abeed (‘abd, plural: ‘abīd), which means "servant" or "slave," is commonly used as a derogatory slur for Black people. This usage is deeply connected to the legacy of the Arab slave trade. While aswad means Black, it has often been used in a negative or stereotypical context in both medieval and modern literature.

I wish to keep this debate alive. I do not want this to be a matter that is thought of as settled. To my mind, it would amount to a cop out, and the embracing of the diminishment of my own humanity to think of myself as Black. I am a human being, a person; I am more than just a colour.

Our aim should be to work towards the acknowledgement of our common humanity, all of us as human beings. Race is merely incidental, it is just a natural attribute. 

Image: Taken from "Understanding the Lives of Black Tudor Women" An African Tudor woman in 16th–17th century England.

Meeting new people

Having been travelling around the African continent for the best part of twenty years, I want to take stock and reflect on the lasting impressions those experiences have had on me. I believe I can safely claim to be in a position where I am able fairly and objectively to compare the impressions I've had, one against the other, city by city, country by country, or even region by region. What I shall be comparing is how easy it has been, or not, to talk to people and form new friendships. 

Starting with the good, East Africa as a whole, for me, proved to be the most liveable region, and I have visited all five regions—North Africa, West Africa, Central Africa, Southern Africa, and East Africa. Both Kenya and Uganda have left positive impressions on my mind. I did not stay long enough in Rwanda to form a substantive impression, but there is nothing negative to be said from that short stay. I have found that in all of my travels on the continent, Kenyans, in particular, are the easiest to talk to and to get along with. I always look forward to having a conversation with a Kenyan because you're almost guaranteed that they would be open and forthright, and be without restraint, even if they're not telling you the truth, which is rare. Ugandans too are easy to talk to, but to a somewhat lesser degree because they tend to be more formal and restrained.

In Southern Africa the conviviality I saw—and I saw a lot of it—was not extended to me to the extent that I might have wished. This caused me to be constantly reminded of my status as an outsider. It was the same both in South Africa and Botswana, save for one exception, Mandla, the Zulu gentleman in Johannesburg with whom I engaged in lengthy conversations that I secretly wished would go on forever for being so delightful. Most other times the language spoken around me was not English, so I found myself almost always on the outside and not able to engage and participate, and for this reason was unable to make new friends. Nevertheless, my Motswana friend whom I had gone to visit in Botswana was outstanding. He saw to it that I did not have a single lonely moment.

Central Africa is represented here by the Republic of Congo, or Congo Brazzaville. It was here that the disadvantage of not being proficient in the main language(s) came into full effect. The predominant languages here are French, Lingala and Kikongo, and as an English speaker one might as well be invisible. I did try to assert myself though, by demonstrating my limited French language skills, but to no avail. I guess It was fortunate that my friend was keen to practice and improve on his English, so he took me under his wing, acting as a shield against the barrage of incomprehension that I had to confront. No, it was not easy meeting new people and making new friends here, but mainly because of the language barrier. In attitude, the people were just as convivial as any others, and had my French been that little bit more practiced, I might have fared better. 

North Africa presented itself to me not as warm and friendly. Instead, the feeling was one that was cold, almost as if any friendliness from my direction was unneeded. I came away feeling that I would not be keen to return, and in fact, that I would avoid this part of the continent.  

West Africa has more variation in character than can be described in a single paragraph. There is little similarity in establishing social contacts between for example in Togo and, The Gambia. Etiquette and temperament are different, as is language. Some societies are more tolerant and liberal than others; some are more overtly religious and downright conservative. It is not an easy landscape to navigate, a lesson I learned the hard way having arrived in The Gambia with expectations that later proved to be misplaced. 

In my experience though, it is West Africa that offers the warmest friendliest people, in Nigeria especially, but also in places like Benin and Liberia. The warm boisterous nature of the ordinary Nigerian makes him or her an easy friend to make. I could say the same for the Beninese and the Liberians except for them not being quite as direct and assertive as the average Nigerian, who normally are a pleasure to be around. Ivorians might possibly fall into this category as well,  but those not mentioned specifically here are those whom I have found to be somewhat complicated. In saying all this, I speak for myself alone, and am informed solely by own personal observations. Peace. 

Kalenjin sour milk

My friend described it to me as "sour milk", then he was surprised that I already knew that the real name of the drink is Mursik. 

Mursik is a traditional fermented milk variant of the Kalenjin people of Kenya. It can be made from cow or goat milk and is fermented in a specially made calabash gourd locally known as a "sotet". The gourd is lined with soot from specific trees, such as the African senna, which add flavour to the fermented milk. It is normally consumed with ugali or on its own and is served at room temperature or chilled.

Mursik has strong cultural significance for the Kalenjin both in terms of identity as well as socially. It is a common drink in the Rift Valley region and is available in urban areas of Kenya. It has over time become synonymous with Kenyan athletics. A significant majority of Kenyan athletic heroes are Kalenjin and scenes of them receiving a sip of mursik at the airport having returned from international duty form part of Kenya's cultural tapestry.

The drink is prepared primarily from cows' milk (but also less commonly goat's milk, or rarely sheep's milk) fermented in specially made seasoned milk gourds that are pre-treated with the smoke and charcoal of certain species of trees prior to each use. Fresh/raw milk (or, more commonly in modern times, milk that has been first boiled then cooled to ambient temperature) is poured into the specially prepared gourd. The gourd is then capped and placed in a cool dry place to undergo spontaneous fermentation for at least three to five days, through the action of lactic acid bacteria, yeast and mould species.

Prior, the gourds are smeared inside with special charcoal called "osek"; from this, gray lines can be seen when pouring the thick, sour milk.

In preparing the gourd, the Kalenjin women make a brush (sosiot) from a branch of cycad tree used to clean the inside. Brushes made from this tree are hardy and may last for up to two years before replacement.

Charcoal "osek", formed from the smouldering embers of branches from the Ite or Itet tree (African senna) is used as a milk preservative. Women use the embers to coat the inside of the cleaned gourd. The charcoal has various effects. It lines the inside of the gourd, reducing its porosity rendering it airtight. The smoke from the embers also has a preservative effect which prevents undesired bacterial multiplication that causes spoilage, while allowing natural souring. The charcoal smoke imparts a special flavour to the milk, and a bluish colour which is of high aesthetic value to the consumer. Having prepared the gourd, women pasteurise the milk by boiling. The pasteurised milk is left to cool before pouring into the gourd. Finally the gourd is corked to render it airtight, making it possible for the milk to be preserved for up to a month.

Another variant of mursik is called "rotik". This variant contains blood mixed with milk, let to ferment, and has a slightly pink colouration. This variant is rare to come by as the practice of drawing blood from cattle is no longer being practiced widely. This variant is believed to be rich in iron and protein and was given to women who had just delivered or warriors who were wounded in battle. 

Mursik offers probiotic benefits like improved gut health and digestion due to beneficial bacteria, with added advantages from charcoal (detoxification, preservation) but carries potential risks, including high acetaldehyde levels linked to esophageal cancer, alcohol content, and potential digestive upset (bloating, gas) in some individuals, necessitating caution, especially with high consumption.

Racialism

Racialism is a term used to describe differences between races. Racism, by contrast, is a belief that some races are inherently superior, and that others are inferior and those races therefore require different treatment. 

Baffled by human diversity, confused 17th-century Europeans argued that human groups were separately created, a precursor to racist thought today.

Their later 19th-century racialist ideas, often termed "scientific racism" or biological determinism, are widely rejected by modern science, anthropology, and ethics. These ideologies, which proposed that humanity is divided into biologically distinct, hierarchical "races" with innate differences in intelligence or morality, have no valid place in modern society.

Key reasons why 19th-century racialist ideas have no place in the modern world:

No Biological Basis: Modern genetics has shown that "race" is a social construct rather than a biological reality. There is no DNA or genetic basis that corresponds with the racial categories developed in the 19th century, and genetic variation within so-called "races" is greater than between them. 

For example, genetic diversity within the so-called "Black people" is greater than the diversity between any one of those Black people and that of any other "race". Africa possesses the highest level of genetic diversity in the world, with populations containing more variation than those on any other continent. Due to being the origin of modern humans, African populations have had more time to accumulate genetic variation, with an average genome having nearly a million more variants than non-African genomes. To then categorise this entire subset of diverse humans as a single category, namely "Black people" is completely inaccurate. 

Contemporary science finds no biological basis for race; no single gene or trait is exclusive to any one group. Race in humans is a scientific, biological continuum of genetic and physical variation, not a set of discrete, fixed categories. It is a socially constructed concept, with human DNA 99.9% similar across all groups.

Scientific Consensus: The scientific community officially recognises that scientific racism is pseudoscientific. It was originally used to justify slavery, imperialism, and eugenics, and modern research has debunked the craniometry and early anthropology that supported these views.

Ethical and Human Rights Impact: 19th-century racialism directly fostered genocidal policies, including the Holocaust, the atrocities of the colonial era, and the creation of segregation laws like the apartheid laws in South Africa and the Jim Crow laws in the Southern United States that enforced racial segregation. 

Persistence of Harmful Legacies: While scientifically invalid, these ideas still exist, leading to "new racism" or "cultural racism," which subtly continues to drive systemic inequalities in education, healthcare, and criminal justice. 

Despite their lack of scientific credibility, these ideas are often revived in modern "race science" to justify discriminatory policies, necessitating active, ongoing, and critical engagement to ensure they do not inform contemporary social or scientific discourse.

The idea that biological races underlie intellectual or moral character is false. Genetic research confirms that all humans belong to a single species, Homo sapiens.

The physical exploitation of colonialism was underpinned by an entire system of beliefs, prejudices and stereotypes built around the idea of white superiority over people of colour. Many of these beliefs persist. It’s called racism, one of colonialism’s most enduring and pernicious legacies.

Ancestral Africans generally did not hold modern, skin-colour-based racialist ideologies, but, like many ancient societies, they practiced intense ethnic, tribal, and cultural discrimination. While tribalism and xenophobia existed—often involving "othering" based on caste, clan or region—the systematic, hierarchical ideology of racism as defined today was not prevalent until later interactions. Similar to other ancient civilisations worldwide, early African societies had conflicts and prejudices, but they did not operate within the same rigid racial hierarchy that developed during the colonial era. In many African contexts, tribalism or ethnic discrimination served as a primary form of prejudice, creating divisions similar to racism but based on kinship, language, or culture rather than skin colour.

The modern concept of racism, particularly anti-Black racism, is often tied to the development of 15th-19th century European colonialism and the transatlantic slave trade.

A brief take on the impacts of European imperialism on Africa

European imperialism was the downfall of Africa. The continent and its people could have modernised in their own way, at their own pace, while retaining their own values, ideologies, value systems, and philosophies. The tragedy was in abandoning what was originally theirs, which had evolved organically over millennia to embrace that which was foreign, European or Arabian. On this latter trajectory, the continent and its people were always going to struggle, in striving to become what they had not originally evolved to be.

Traditional African societies were generally well-ordered and well-organised, characterised by diverse, sophisticated systems of governance, economics, and social structure long before colonial intervention. While often falsely portrayed as primitive, these societies ranged from large, centralised empires (such as Mali, Songhai, and Great Zimbabwe) to decentralised "stateless" societies, all of which maintained social order through established customs, kinship, and, in many cases, complex administrative hierarchies.

Key aspects of order and organisation in traditional African society included:

Political Structure: Governance varied widely, from monarchies with divine kings to council-led systems that relied on consensus, such as the "interminable palaver" (discussions) mentioned by Julius Nyerere. Authority was often decentralised among lineage elders, age-sets, and clan leaders, with some areas operating as "ordered anarchies" based on strong social norms rather than rigid, coercive governments.

Social Order and Kinship: The core of social organisation was the extended family and clan, which provided social security, regulated land use, and defined moral behaviour. Respect for elders, community solidarity, and adherence to tradition were paramount in maintaining harmony.

Economic Organisation: Economies were organised around agriculture, animal husbandry, and trade. Complex systems were in place, such as the osusu (cooperative, rotating savings) and trade networks that stretched across the Sahara.

Justice and Administration: Many societies had sophisticated judicial mechanisms to resolve disputes, managed by councils of elders or, in some cases, centralised officials.

Cultural and Ethical Values: A common ethos of communalism—often summed up by the philosophy of "I am because we are"—guided daily life, ensuring that individual actions were aligned with the well-being of the collective."

AI has this to say, as a first response when queried about the impacts of European imperialism on Africa:

"European imperialism in Africa (roughly 1870s–1960s) caused profound, lasting devastation by exploiting resources, imposing arbitrary borders, and disrupting social systems. It resulted in widespread forced labour, violent atrocities (e.g., in the Congo), economic dependency, and cultural suppression, which created deeply ingrained cycles of poverty, ethnic conflict, and political instability that persist today."

It is clear from this that the negative impacts of European imperialism in Africa far outweigh whatever positive impacts there might be from such foreign interventions into the continent. Arabian culture on its part, completely erased indigenous African cultures in the areas where it prevailed, supplanting itself as the alternative, such that much of the indigenous cultures and belief systems that it supplanted are lost to us today.

A cartoon, uncredited, in the French magazine L'illustration dated January 3, 1885, on page 17, presents a critical view of the Berlin Conference of 1884-1885. It depicts Otto von Bismarck, the then Chancellor of Germany, cutting a cake labelled 'Africa' with a knife, symbolizing the division of the continent. The other delegates at the conference are shown sitting around the table, watching the scene in shock.

Rio de Janeiro

It was in February of the year 1992 that I embarked on my first foreign trip by myself. Travelling from Lagos, Nigeria, we flew to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on Varig, the Brazilian airline that at the time maintained the air bridge between South America and the African continent.

The flight was full, with lots of Igbo traders from Nigeria travelling to Brazil to purchase merchandise, with most of them travelling onward from Rio to the commercial capital Sao Paolo. There was a whole troupe of Yoruba Orisha practitioners in full traditional ceremonial regalia, which highlighted for me the deep connections between Nigeria and Brazil. Orisha, the traditional religion of the Yoruba people, is Candomble or Santeria in Brazil, versions of the same religion practiced by Afro-Brazilians with Yoruba ancestry. The two sides have maintained links across the Atlantic, I had heard that visits between them are common. Yemoja the Yoruba sea goddess is known as Yemanja or Iemanja in Brazil. There were several others too on this flight who seemed like tourists or diplomats or whatever.

This was the first time I was travelling abroad alone, but there were other firsts. It was the first time I was to cross the Atlantic ocean, the first time I would visit a country where they spoke a language I did not know. It was the first time I was to see with my own eyes the delights of the city of Rio de Janeiro, about which, through the tourism promotion programme 'Fantastico O Show da Vida' the Brazilian authorities had bombarded us from our TV screens for years. It was also the first time I would be visiting a country where I knew no one.

This was an adventure. I was excited, even as I anticipated the challenges that all those firsts could pose. There might have been some nervousness too, but I was curious, and adventurous. I might have even desired the challenge.

As it turned out, this visit to Rio de Janeiro was to become, among other things, the most enjoyable, most exciting, and the most frenetic two weeks of my life. An 'unforgettable experience' in every sense of that much used term. That I am writing about this three decades later is testament to this.

My trip coincided with the preparations for the annual Rio Carnival or Carnaval, which was set to commence in the week of my departure from the city. This seeming coincidence was not intentional, it was a genuine coincidence, but it was auspicious. It made for a vibrance in the city that was consistent, all day and all night, throughout my stay there; a vitality and exuberance that defines my entire memory of this brief visit to Rio, and, which made it an extremely pleasurable experience.

During the day there was the sightseeing and the wandering around town, the shopping for souvenirs, sampling street food; getting mistaken for an American by very friendly Brazilian people because I spoke English, enjoying the looks of surprise when they learned that I'm in fact Nigerian; having them practice on me what English they knew as they then tried to impress me by showing how much they knew about the Nigerian national football team.

Getting myself lost in the city afterwards, and in the process see places and things I might not otherwise have seen; venturing into the less well trodden parts, areas certainly not often visited by tourists, yea, I even strayed into a favela, one of the city's lively shanty towns. (We had been warned during the flight not to drink the tap water, to avoid the favelas, to beware of the many street kids in the tourist areas, and not to display any cash). But in the favela I visited on my own, it felt as if I fit right in so long as I kept my mouth shut, and didn't betray myself as just another nosey tourist. I felt very brave, even as my credentials as a Lagosian came to bear. Or maybe it was just the fearlessness of youth? Today I might act rather more cautiously,

Then having to navigate my way back to the rented apartment, using public transport. I shared the apartment with two others, Nigeria Airways pilots who had come to Brazil for their mandatory flight simulator training exercises. We were on the 6th floor in an apartment block on the Avenida Atlantica, on the Copacabana beachfront. My flatmates would attend for their flight simulator training at night, so I was always alone in the apartment at night-time. During the day, as my flatmates rested, I was out in town on my own. So, basically, this whole adventure was one that I undertook and experienced all by myself. 

That is, until Mateo came along. 

There were samba groups out on the streets at night, the various samba schools practicing their samba song-and-dance routines in preparation tor the upcoming Carnaval. This especially on the Avenida Atlantica (where my apartment was), and the Praia de Copacabana (Copacabana Beach), which together with Praia Ipanema and the adjoining boulevards and avenues was where everything happened. Or so it seemed to me.

In the evenings the usually busy avenue in front of my apartment building would be closed to traffic and then shortly fill up again with people on foot, many of them in carnival costumes. The loud music and the drumming, singing, and dancing on the street, would begin; and on the beach itself across the road, the beach volleyball that is played all day never really stops. It surprised me to see people still playing volleyball at midnight.

Observing all this from the apartment's 6th floor balcony in the middle of the night, the sights and sounds were overpowering. I was drawn down from the apartment to street level again and again, each night, as if on autopilot. The street and beach were flood lit, the atmosphere was electric. It was impossible not to join in with the crowd on the street while spontaneously swaying to the heady Brazilian samba rhythm, even as I wondered what the actual carnival would feel like seeing as this was just a practice session.

After a couple of times of this, as I joined the crowd again, capoeristas appeared before me one night. I was mesmerised. I was seeing Capoeira this uniquely Afro-Brazilian phenomenon for the first time. I had never before even heard of this unique blend of martial art and dance choreography that originated from Brazilian slaves. One particular capoerista caught my attention, his charcoal skin glistening in the night light as he twisted, vaulted, kicked and cavorted to the music, gracefully, effortlessly, in an expert demonstration of Capoeira. I must have been transfixed, like a rabbit caught in headlights, because, he, the capoerista, could not but notice that someone was staring intently at him. Then his performance ended.

Mateo acknowledged me with a nod and in that friendly Brazilian way came forward and greeted me, saying words to me that I assumed was him saying hello and introducing himself, but in Portuguese. Responding warmly, I asked in English "what's your name?". Of course, he didn't understand, and I too had not understood a word he had said at first.

In the Portuguese language, "What's your name?" is "Qual o seu nome", so after repeating my question a few times in English, he recognised the name/nome similarity in the two languages, understood what I had meant, and responded, "Aah, nome", and with that huge Brazilian smile, replied, "Meu nome e Mateo". I then told him my name, painstakingly telling him how to pronounce it, something I've often had to do.

This was how I met Mateo. I wanted so much to tell him that I thought he was magnificent, and that he was the best among the capoeristas in the group; that I myself wanted to know more about Capoeira, and that I wanted him to be the one to teach me. 

Though I didn't know how to say all these sentences to him in a language he understood, I needn't have worried, because he seemed to catch on. We both shortly realised that in this brand new friendship smooth conversation would be difficult, but it didn't seem to matter, and it didn't deter us.

Communication was achieved, and even if less than seamless, it wasn't too difficult in the end, because we both wanted it, worked at, and both shared the will and desire to achieve it. It came naturally.

Meeting Mateo made Rio for me doubly more enjoyable. I learned then that when visiting a place, there's not much that is better than seeing that place from the perspective of, or through the eyes and mind of a person who is local to the place, During this visit I was privileged to see and experience a hard-core side of Rio that a tourist would not ordinarily see or experience. And for this reason, being in Rio became that much more of an enriching experience for me. As I was leaving, I promised to return to this city as soon as it was possible to do so, but I have not been able to fulfil this promise, even up till now more that thirty years later, Yet the longing today is just as raw, almost the same as it was on that day when I departed, a feeling that is as if I had left a part of me behind in Rio de Janeiro. 💔

Fela

As a student at the University of Lagos many decades ago, Fela's club, The Shrine, at Ikeja, Lagos, was a favourite haunt for me and several others like myself. I visited the Shrine many times. Once, standing close to the front of the crowd at the Shrine I was wearing a t-shirt with PUBLIC ENEMY boldly emblazoned on the front, when from the stage Fela himself picked me out from the crowd and made some sharp remark about my t-shirt, while pointing at me, causing the crowd to cheer. I was awestruck, lost in the moment and don't even remember exactly what he said, but this was the only personal interaction I ever had with him and I cherish that moment eternally.

"Upside Down and Zombie, both released in 1976, were made at the midpoint of an extraordinary three-year purple period during which Fela recorded 24 albums of new material. Upside Down was written by Fela to portray a worldly travelled African who searches the dictionary and finds the definition of "upside down" - a perfect description of the African situation. Upside Down is unusual in that it includes a second lead vocalist, Fela’s American friend Sandra Izsadore. Izsadore was a Black rights activist and introduced him to the writings of revolutionary thinkers such as Malcolm X, Angela Davis, Rap Brown, Stokely Carmichael, Huey Newton and more, who inspired Fela’s philosophy of Blackism." World of Echo

Second video:  Upside Down - Funmilayo Afrobeat Orquestra, Seun Kuti, Egypt 80 (Live Session)

Technical Sheet:

• Composer: Fela Kuti
• Recording at Estúdio Sem Piscina, São Paulo, Brazil 
• Sound Engineering: Eduardo Magliano
• Recording Technician: Caio Terra 
• Mixing: Gustavo Lenza
• Mastering: Felipe Tichauer
• Executive Production: Vanessa Soares - Movimentar Produções
• Cover: Edson Ikê
• Communication Strategy: Amanda Figueiredo
• Video Capture and Editing: Paris de Araújo

What Grok said 2

 According to Grok. 

"The Botswana travel blog by @anengiyefa appears on their long- running personal blog, Things I Feel Strongly About (hosted at thingsifeelstronglyabout.blogspot.com). It's a multi-part series titled "Visiting Botswana", published in December 2025, documenting a reflective, road-trip-style journey through the country — focused more on personal observations, landscapes, subtle social dynamics, and a non-intrusive approach to wildlife rather than typical high-adrenaline safaris. The series (at least parts 2, 3, and 6 are detailed in recent shares) covers a drive from southern to northern Botswana, emphasizing immersion in the environment, cultural nuances, and a philosophical respect for nature rooted in traditional African perspectives (e.g., viewing animals as beings to leave undisturbed rather than entertain tourists).

Key Parts of the Series 

Visiting Botswana 2 (Dec 2025): Details the long road journey north from Gaborone along the A1 Highway, with stops/views in Mahalapye, Tonota, Francistown (Botswana's second-largest city), and onward to Kazungula and Kasane in the Chobe District. 

Highlights include: Herds of elephants approaching roads near Kazungula, including a massive bull blocking the way.

Marshy Chobe River banks with white salt deposits, bubbling freshwater springs, elephant/water buffalo tracks and dung (animals visit for minerals like sodium/calcium/phosphorus).

Crossing the Kazungula Bridge (built 2014) over the Zambezi River, reaching the unique quadripoint border area (Botswana, Zambia, Namibia via Impalila Island, Zimbabwe).

Personal sensations like near-vertigo on the windy bridge shared with pedestrians, heavy trucks, and Zambian taxis.

The post celebrates the joy of the journey itself over rushed destinations.

Visiting Botswana 3 (Dec 2025): Centres on a short stay at Flame of Africa lodge near the Chobe River and Kasai Channel (leading toward the Zambezi). Experiences include: Wildlife sightings: elephants, baboons, meerkats (first time in the wild for the author), hippos mistaken for logs.

A wobbly floating jetty for boat access (quickly abandoned due to discomfort).

Guide Maphorisa suggesting fishing trips, boat rides, or open-vehicle game drives — declined in favor of minimal interference.

Strong reflection: Aligns with ancestral views that wildlife shouldn't serve human amusement; prefers respectful distance over commercial tourism intrusion. Includes photos of the river, lodge area, and animals.

Visiting Botswana 6 (Dec 22, 2025): Focuses on the Chobe River shoreline in Kasane, specifically a local-frequented spot nicknamed "Kasane Italy" (reserved for residents, contrasting with exclusive lodge areas mostly used by wealthy foreign tourists from Namibia/South Africa). 

Relaxing observation of "sophisticated Africans" enjoying recreation.

Unease at subtle racial/wealth-based hierarchies in access to prime riverbank spots (echoing historical dynamics over centuries).

Views across to Namibia's Impalila Island.

Photos capture the scenic shoreline, locals at leisure, and access contrasts.

The series promotes authentic, low-impact travel — savouring scenery, chance wildlife encounters from roads/bridges, and introspection over packaged safaris. The author shares links to these posts on X (e.g., in late Dec 2025), tying into their broader blog themes of African travels, culture, and personal musings. The blog itself is introspective, written by a former UK criminal defence lawyer (with Nigerian heritage), blending travelogues, cultural deep-dives (e.g., recent posts on Malian mud cloth or Congolese rumba), and occasional political commentary. Botswana entries stand out for their thoughtful, anti-exploitative lens on wildlife and tourism. You can read them directly via the links shared on X or search the blog archive for "Visiting Botswana". If you're planning a trip, they offer a grounded, non-commercial perspective on northern Botswana's Chobe region!"

Journey Journal 4

Sitting in the Departures lounge at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Lagos, having gone through Immigration, Customs and Security in readiness for my departure on a night flight back to Europe, I am able now to calmly reflect on how much change has taken place at this airport. In fact, this airport and my experience(s) here, has, more than anything else, informed my belief that the change for the better in Nigeria is rather more substantial than I had originally thought. 

The air-conditioning in the terminal building is working this time around, the floors are shiny from having recently been polished and waxed, the abrasive and even sometimes rude public officials of the past are nowhere to be found; all I have seen so far are smiling faces and officials with a kind, polite and considerate approach to their official tasks and duties, an attitude that I had never associated with Nigeria in the past. I have to say it again, I am impressed with what I have seen and experienced in Nigeria. This country has made me proud. 

I received a text message from the KLM airline earlier this evening notifying me that my connecting flight from Amsterdam to London tomorrow morning at 10:30 hrs has been cancelled. No reason for the cancellation was given, but the option was provided for me to select from a list of alternative flights to London. One was an earlier flight that would depart Amsterdam at 06:45, just one hour after my arrival from Lagos in the early hours of the morning. My estimated arrival time at Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport is  05:45 hrs. 

My original connecting flight to London had provided for an intervening period of about 4 hours in Amsterdam, a time frame that I was sure would guarantee that my checked-in bag made it from the aircraft arriving from Lagos, to the one departing for London on which I would have been travelling. I was uncomfortable with the idea of arriving in London on this earlier flight, with the possibility that I might be separated from my bag in the process. 

The next flight out of Amsterdam after my cancelled flight is at 13:45 hrs, so having arrived at 05:45, there will be a wait in Amsterdam of about 8 hours. I'm not sure if I should be pleased about this (Schiphol, after all, is a very nice airport), or whether I should be angry that my journey back to London is going to be significantly more tedious than I had anticipated. 

I opted for the later flight, the one at 13:45 hrs, and the peace of mind in the knowledge that my bag would definitely be on the same flight as me. This wait will also give me the time to review in my mind everything that I have seen and done during this visit to Nigeria and to record for posterity my impressions and assessments of these.

I do not have an internet connection at my current location so I am typing this as a Word document with the intention to copy and paste it here sometime later, perhaps when I am at Schiphol and have access to WIFI. 

My flight has been called over the tannoy and I must now proceed for boarding. I might try to update further during the flight but this cannot be guaranteed as it is a night flight, and Mother Nature will likely cajole me into sleeping through much of it. If I am not able to update, then I shall do this later from Schiphol.

04:35 hrs - I did in fact fall asleep after the hearty midnight dinner served shortly after departure from Lagos and woke up to find that we are only 25 minutes from our destination. I thought I should jot something down as a memo of this uneventful flight. Join me later on at Schiphol Airport, all eight hours of it.

Schiphol - As I already knew that I was going to remain at Amsterdam Schiphol for a while, I headed straight for the relaxation room set aside for those with long layovers at this airport, a quiet room equipped solely with reclining relaxation seats, where it is possible to have a nap or even sleep if necessary. 

It was here that I met Izell, a young African American gentleman, a pharmacist, who as it happened had also been on that flight from Lagos. We both were surprised when we learned that we had arrived in Amsterdam on the same flight and were now sitting/reclining next to each other. It was even more surprising when we learned that we had arrived in Nigeria within days of each other, he on the 9th, me on the 6th of March. He too had a five-hour wait before his flight to Chicago, and he was just as positive as I was in his impressions of of Nigeria, and of his experiences there. He had been hosted by a Nigerian family during his stay and had nothing bad to say about the country. 

We spoke at length, had a lot to talk about, and he was great company. We even had a chicken meal together, paid for using the meal vouchers KLM had provided to those of us on delayed flights. But unlike my own, his flight was called and has now departed as scheduled.

My own flight was cancelled, for the second time. So for the first time ever, I have received three boarding passes for the same journey. I hope this is the last one I will receive before I finally leave, because I'm not terribly keen on spending the night in a strange hotel room, with no change of clothes, all of which are contained in my checked-in bag, which is still in the possession of the airline and contracted to be delivered to me upon arrival at my final destination.

Both my phone and my laptop are dead. I have been unable to charge the battery on either of them in the Netherlands due to the the incompatibility of the plugs on my devices with Dutch EU electricity sockets. However, they have kindly provided me with free web access, as well as the free use of a computer, which, by the way, is configured in Dutch. So I have to translate everything into English before I can use it. 

I shall update again when I get the chance.— at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol.

Journey Journal 3

6 March 2018

WELCOME TO NIGERIA

This large sign greeted me as I descended the escalator into Passport Control at the Arrivals area of the Lagos Murtala Mohammed Airport. I do not recall ever seeing a "Welcome to Nigeria" sign upon arrival previously when I arrived in Nigeria, but as it turned out this welcome sign was an indication of just how much the traveller's experience at this airport has changed for the better.

Within no more than 15 minutes we and hundreds of others, (three planeloads of people had arrived at this airport on three different flights at approximately the same time), were whisked through passport control by polite very efficient immigration officials. What? This was not the Nigeria I knew.

Apart from the baggage on my flight taking quite a while to emerge from the hole in the wall on to the carousel, the overall experience at this airport was nothing like the unpleasant airport experiences I had had in the past. In fact, this was my first time ever of having something of a pleasant experience at a Nigerian airport, and thus, it was definitely worthy of being acknowledged and reported, although of course the air conditioning in the airport terminal building wasn't working.

But this was a great experience nonetheless.

Going forward, the feeling that things have improved in Lagos grew stronger, this city where I grew up and lived in for most of the first few decades of my life, and about which I have had cause on various occasions to express frustration. The longer I stayed in and wandered through the city, the more the reasons for this feeling became more easily explained.

I wound up on the second evening sitting on the peaceful outdoor terrace of an establishment known as The George Lagos in upmarket Ikoyi, at the pool side, sipping a martini and surrounded on three sides by impeccably manicured gardens stylishly illuminated by mood lighting, with mild music in the background. My only worry in the world at that point in time was this - that had that brick wall at the far end of this magnificent garden been replaced by a view of the lagoon, with reflections of the city’s bright nightlights bouncing off the water's surface, the magic of this beautiful place would be complete. But as this was a location that was nowhere near the lagoon or the ocean, or any water body, there was no possibility of there ever being a waterfront view from The George Lagos. The fact that my mind had even wandered into the realm of fantasy and the surreal at all, speaks only of the enchantment I felt at that moment.

It is now my third day in Lagos, and like yesterday, it's hard to find anything to worry about. My biggest problem this morning was deciding on which FM radio station to tune my earphones into, and how I must go about satisfying this burning craving I'm having for puff-puff and hot buns.

So this is how worry-free and stress-free I am at the moment, and I am delighting in it. I'm enjoying being in Nigeria much more than I thought I would.

The city of Lagos itself does continue to spring surprises even for a hardened Lagosian like yours truly, with credentials as an old hand, and veteran long time resident. Now that my internet connection has been fully established, I expect to come back with more of these musings.