nigeria

Postcards from Nigeria

Paris, March 1973
We are on our way to Amsterdam. I’ll take KLM to Chicago, Bill to Frankfort and Lagos. The Paris weather has been cold but clear and sunny – lovely. I walked miles to know Paris a little better. Had lunch with Zina yesterday – she says Lisa is very unhappy here – she’s going to US for Easter. Do keep warm, for that helps to recover and prevent colds.
Love to you, Mom

1985. NIGERIA
The most populous single African nation on the continent of Africa, lies on the west coast and has a rich tradition and culture closely connected with her religious beliefs and the rites and practices relating to them. Traditional religion has given the people a heritage of culture and tradition which is still noticeable despite later influence by Isalm and Christianity. The agriculture, music, art, craft, language and economies of the country still bear traces of this influence.

Premier Hotel, Ibadan, Nigeria

December 1973
T & J got here about 4 hours late but happy and not too tired. We are gradually hearing about their trip to Europe, their life in Australia.
You can see Bill’s office at the top right of the photo.
Hope you are well, Love, Dede

My New Book is Out!

The day has finally come. It feels like I have been working on this book forever.

But now, here it is!

I have set up some pages to go with the book. Lots of pictures and videos. Praise from readers. And info on where to get it. Also info on how to get a review copy. Click on Much More Info below or on Echoes of a Global Life in the menu above.

ECHOES OF A GLOBAL LIFE by Kathleen Gamble
A story of survival from Burma to Moscow and beyond. Memoir. Travel stories. Living in interesting times.

Echoes of a Global Life is part memoir, part travelogue, part history lesson. Kathleen lives in a world of constant change. Moving from city to city she says goodbye to one and starts to explore the next. Never two the same. She is a survivor. She keeps on going. Through trauma, including a plane crash, and other scary times, there is also humor. Kathleen was born in Asia and lived on five continents before she was eighteen. She takes you to Burma, USA, Mexico, Colombia, Nigeria, Switzerland, and Russia. She weaves in parts of each country she carries with her. Her family lives through a coup in Burma, student rioting in Colombia, two coups in Nigeria, and political unrest in Russia. Sometimes things are fabulous. Sometimes they are not. She is a Third Culture Kid, rootless and restless. As an adult she lived in Moscow for nine years during the 1990’s where she witnessed history in the making and a terrifying exit. Life is never boring.

Much more info

Winter no Winter and other TCK musings

Minnesota usually looks something like this in winter. Not this winter. It didn’t get cold, it didn’t snow. Not to speak of, anyway. The year we didn’t have winter followed the year we had the most snow ever. We are living on a merry-go-round. What is next?

I learned the other day that the Andrews Sisters were from Minnesota. One of their biggest hits was Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy during World War II. They were child performers and won their first talent contest when the youngest was 12. The only Minnesotan who has outsold them was Prince.

Just a little tidbit to file away in your trivia drawer.

I put a slide show on my screen saver for my Apple TV that shows pictures of my recent trip to South America. It really seems kind of unreal. Was I really there? Did I really go to Easter Island? It is all kind of dreamlike. It is weird how you can have all these memories of traveling to places all over the world and be sitting in a room in front of a computer thinking about taking out the garbage and going grocery shopping and putting gas in the car. All my life I have dreamed about going to places and seeing things I have read about or studied. For example, I was always fascinated with ancient history and Egypt in particular. It was a place I knew a lot about and when I finally went there, it all came back to me. All those things I had learned all those many years ago. It was so magical. And it was just a blip. I was there and then I was back, going to work, doing laundry, cooking. Planning the next trip. When you grow up living and traveling around the world it is hard to stop, to stay in one place.

I was thinking again about my recent trip and one thing I realized was that growing up all over the world created an environment for me to experience all kinds of spontaneous cultural interactions. For example this tour had organized several “events” for the group to interact with local people in their homes. Living overseas, of course I had lots of “local” friends and often went to people’s homes. But beyond that, I traveled around the countryside and stumbled through villages and met people who invited me into their homes. A few of my friends and I would go hiking in Nigeria and end up sitting in a mud hut drinking palm wine, or on somebody’s porch eating fish stew. I never thought anything of it at the time. They were just things that happened. This recent trip made me realize how unique that was. How most people don’t have those kinds of opportunities. I just took them for granted. Silly me.

Excerpt from my book, Expat Alien: On one of our outings in Nigeria, at the end of the day, we stopped in a small village for some refreshment. There was no restaurant or store but, after having asked around, we found a house where the people were willing to sell us some beer. We sat on their porch and drank beer and the entire village came out to watch us. We bought the grandfather of the house a special drink (ogogoro – gin distilled from palm wine) from somebody down the street and we found one young boy who spoke some English to be our translator. Pretty soon the family brought out dinner for us to share (fish curry and yam paste). Francis looked like he would be sick if he had to eat any of it. I tried some of the yam paste but left the very hot curry to the others. Everybody was getting quite drunk.

Cookbooks Around the World

Building on the International/Expat/ local cookbook theme, today we have the Ibadan “Chopping” Guide from Ibadan, Nigeria.

“All recipes, hints and substitutions were chosen primarily for use in Ibadan and areas where ingredients are limited.

October 1969”

The “Chopping” refers to Nigerian pidgin English.

According to Babawilly’s Dictionary of Pidgin English Words and Phrases:

Chop: 1. Food 2. Income 3. Bribe 4. Embezzle money

e.g Dat Oga chop belle-full bifor e retire.

Chop bottle: Eat glass. Part of pre fight preamble during which various threats and questions are asked to measure of toughness of the opponent

e.g. you dey chop bottle?

Chop bullet: Get shot.

Chop life: Enjoy life.

Chop money: Monthly or weekly house keeping allowance.

Chop mouth: Kissing.

Chop-remain: Leftovers of meal.

It is a colorful language with a sense of humor.

Here is one important recipe I extracted from this book and used often in Moscow. My son still reminisces about it.

Maple Syrup

1 bottle Sprite or 7-UP
2 cups brown sugar
Boil until syrupy

If I had any maple flavoring, I would put in a teaspoon.

My favorite Nigerian dish does not appear in this cookbook but one of my mother’s friends did provide a recipe:

Ground Nut Stew

Cover with water 1 ½ lbs. of chicken (in pieces with bone) or beef cut into chunks, bite sized, and cook until meat is done. Salt for cooking.
In blender: 3 medium onions, equal volume tomatoes, and 2 or 3 little hot red peppers. Blend. Add to meat sauce. Cook 10 or 15 minutes.
3/4 to 1 cup roasted toasted peanuts liquidized in blender (separately) or readymade peanut butter (less messy)
Add peanut mixture to meat & vegetable sauce and stir out the lumps. Simmer for 15 min. or so and taste.
Add salt, pepper to taste
At this point if you haven’t added hot peppers fresh, canned dried red hot ground peppers to taste.
Serve with rice. Serves about 6.

Learning to Drive

My father with car and dog

I am learning to ride in a car with a sixteen year old driver. I am learning to quietly cringe and hold my tongue. I am learning to resist slamming my leg down on the break that isn’t there. I am learning to look out the window and observe things by the side of the road I have never had a chance to enjoy before. I am learning to trust. And to quietly guide. And sometimes to shout out in a panic. But not too often.

He is actually pretty good. Baby steps. He has time to learn. And I have a built in designated driver! There is always an up side!

I have been re-reading my father’s memoir and came across the following passage that seemed kind of relevant. My father grew up on a farm in southern Iowa, the youngest of seven children.

“When I was about 7, I started driving teams of horses for some field work. Dad, or someone, would harness and hitch up the horses to a wagon or a machine since I was not big enough to put on a horse’s harness. Another of my chores in my early years was to walk to the pasture to herd the milk cows to the barn at milking time. No one in our family drank much milk but we made our own butter and cottage cheese. The only time I really remember drinking milk was on Sunday evenings. I would fill a glass with popcorn and then pour in some milk.

When I was 11 or 12 (1931-32) the country went into the Great Depression. Many neighbors gave up and sold out or were forced out because they had defaulted on their loans. Livestock prices were very low and grain prices were the lowest on record.

One of the things that helped my family survive the Depression was my parents started a small dairy and my brothers Bob and Floyd did the milking and delivered the milk door to door and to stores in town before school. By the time they had finished high school, dad had purchased a heard of very good dairy cows. I was the only boy left at home and had to take on this job. My sister Margaret had recently been married and her new husband, Lee, helped with the chores and milking. It was Lee’s and my responsibility to milk the cows twice each day by hand and to take care of the cows and the milk. After Lee left, it became just my responsibility. When I was 14, I was able to get a driver’s license and began to deliver the milk in bottles door to door in Shenandoah each morning as well as to two grocery stores before school. Floyd had taught me to drive our Model T Ford when I was about 10 years old, so I had no trouble getting a driver’s license. The dairy really saved us during the Depression. When I left home to go to college, dad sold the dairy cows since it was too much for him and at that time larger dairy farms started up in our area, forcing out the small producers like us.”

When I was 16 I was in boarding school. No driving there.

Between high school and college, I spent the summer with my parents in Ibadan, Nigeria. Driving in Nigeria was kind of like playing Russian Roulette. You never knew when somebody would come barreling around a blind corner straight at you. I was not yet 18 so technically I couldn’t get a license anyway (although I doubt they checked). An American guy I knew, Tim, turned 18 that summer and decided to get his license. He went down to the Motor Vehicle department and an official actually got in the car with him:

Official: Drive forward!

Tim drives

Official: Stop!

Tim stops

Official: Drive backwards!

Tim drives in reverse

Official: Stop!

Tim stops

Official: Would you be interested in a German Shepard puppy?

Tim pays his fee and gets his driver’s license and a dog. Such a deal!

The following summer I went to live with my brother in Minneapolis, and his wife taught me to drive. At 19, a college sophomore, I was a licensed driver!