A troubadour in the seat of the Caliphate
By Wale Okediran August 6, 2010 05:29AM |
Sokoto. Twilight. I am standing on the balcony of my room at the Sokoto Hotel on Kano Road, admiring the approaching dawn through the window. Far away in the horizon, the golden red sun reluctantly pushes its way through the silvery clouds and before long, daylight bathes the July dawn in all its glory. On the centre table were the remains of the previous night's dinner of Kaba meat. Kaba meat, I was informed, originated from Maiduguri. It is actually suya cooked in its sauce without any oil but with lots of cabbage, onions and seasonings.
As I opened the cover of the tightly packed container, I was enveloped by a tantalising aroma of the well garnished and succulent beef which danced on my tongue with a slightly tangy taste. It was the uniqueness of the taste that prompted me to want to know more about the dish. Eager to savour a local cuisine, I had ventured far into the city in search of the dish which had been recommended by a friend. It was a delightfully tender and delicious meal which I had washed down with generous gulps of Fura da nono, which is cooked grits made from millet and mixed with local or dairy farm yoghurt.
I had left Abuja the previous day by road, just as the muezzin was calling for prayers. It was to be my first trip to Sokoto by road and I decided to leave very early in order to enjoy the beautiful scenery of the approximately seven-hour trip.
My first trip to Sokoto, which was by air, was in 2006 when as the President of the Association of Nigerian Authors, I had led a delegation of writers to the then State governor, Attahiru Bafarawa, in respect of a writer's workshop to be hosted by the state. The delegation also visited former president, Shehu Shagari, in his Janzumo Farm Estate in Shagari Village; as well as the irrepressible former Nigerian Ambassador to the UK, Alhaji Abubakar Alhaji, the Sardauna of Sokoto, both of whom welcomed us warmly.
Shagari and Alhaji, both national statesmen, have sharply contrasting characteristics. While Shagari, a traditionalist, was spartan with an open door policy, Alhaji was urbane, effusive and highly westernised. Whereas we found Shagari waiting to receive us with the gates of his simple two-storey building open, we had to wait for a while before the gates of Alhaji's opulent mansion could be opened. Even at that, we still had to wait a while longer before the former federal minister and diplomat could attend to us.
All alone
On this trip, however, I will be going alone, devoid of any officialdom or protocol, as a circumnavigator of the imagination on a voyage of discovery. I will be going as an itinerant writer, a recorder of men and events, a traveller seeking diversity and adventure, in short, a troubadour. I admit that I won't be doing anything original, only following in the footsteps of some of the masters; the storytellers, dreamers and thinkers who, as life's legendary witnesses, have recorded far greater events.
Their names come to mind, Plato, Dante, D. H. Lawrence, Leo Tolstoy, Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Abubakar Imam, to name just a few. Having set the pace, their fame has become inseparable from civilisation's glory, despite the fact that the bond between writer and society seems to fade with each passing year. Our duty, therefore, as legatees of this ancient craft is to refresh the bond by dreaming, wandering and recording society as it is.
Departing Abuja that early meant that the city was just rising from the previous day's slumber. At Kubwa, I ran into the usually chaotic vehicular traffic, a development which has sadly turned the city into another 'Lagos'.
Kaduna, Zaria, Funtua and other smaller towns passed in quick succession, as the driver nosed the car towards Sokoto.
Just after Funtua, the otherwise smooth ride became disrupted, as we travelled on a dusty, rough section of the road which was under construction. All around were cornfields, lush and green extending far into the horizon, rolling into the distance as far as the eyes could see. Equally fascinating were the graciously simple traditional Hausa architecture which I saw in some of the small towns and villages but which were sadly missing in the bigger metropolis in favour of the so-called 'modern architecture'.
At Faskaro Local Government Area, we chanced on a market where lorry loads of millet, corn, and other farm products were being off-loaded. Cows, goats, donkeys and camels completed the merchandise being offered for sale at the very busy roadside market.
Home of the Caliphate
Just before Gusau was the famous Kwatarkwashi Rocks, which I had climbed a few years ago in the company of members of the Association of Nigerian Authors, as part of the activities of that year's annual convention in Zamfara State. Gusau, Kadauri and Talata Mafara and other smaller towns and villages were soon behind us, as we finally arrived Sokoto about two in the afternoon.
"Welcome to the home of the Caliphate," read the large signboard at the city gate.
Sokoto was cool on this July day, most likely owing to the early morning rain. Puddles of water on the streets and some dripping trees testified to the downpour that had washed down the city just a few hours before my arrival.
"You must have brought the rain," my friend, Sulaiman, a staff of an international medical NGO based in the city, quipped. "If you had come a few weeks ago, the heat would have turned you back," he added.
The day after my arrival, I took advantage of the very clement weather, and decided to go sightseeing, beginning with Abdullahi Fodio Road, which seemed to be the main artery of the city. The road began where Kano Road ended under a new flyover that was still under construction. It is said to be the second in the city, the first being the one constructed by the immediate past governor. Owing to the ongoing road work, most structures around this area were coated in the sandy brown colour of the un-tarred road while a mild traffic snarl gave a harried looking traffic warden some anxious moments.
The city's artery
Abdullahi Fodio Road is home to most of the highbrow commercial centres in Sokoto ranging from a modern bakery to eateries, cybercafés and abattoir, among others. All these were interspersed by textile shops selling all kinds of material from Guinea Brocade to Vlisco and caftan, among others. Also in abundance were the small provision shops where you can buy small supplies of sugar, beverages and detergents, among others. At the corner of the road, just before a filling station, loud modern music could be heard from a shop with an intimidating sign 'CD WORLD'. Just across the road at a popular restaurant could be seen a crowd of beggars and almajiris scurrying after patrons with toothpicks in their mouths as they strolled back to their cars after a good meal.
Encouraged by the contented looks of the restaurant's patrons, I decided to give the place a trial. "We have rice, beans, semo, amala with ewedu, vegetable and egusi soup," one of the girls in the cafeteria said as I settled down. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the owner was a Yoruba woman whose steaming plate of 'amala' and 'ewedu' could rival that of any Ibadan-based canteen.
I was equally surprised to discover that the activities in the commercial part of the city continued at a feverish pace way into the night. As my friend put it, "the nights are cooler due to the daytime heat and so the very active night life".
It was obvious that most of the major ethnic groups in Nigeria are represented in the ancient city, as could be seen from those engaged in commercial activities on Fodio Road. While the Igbos were involved in most of the electronic and spare parts businesses, the Yorubas could be seen running some of the canteens while the non native Hausas from nearby states ran the other businesses. As is usually the case in many metropolises in the country, the natives were said to be laid back in their choice of work.
At the tail end of Abdullahi Fodio Road is the Shehu Shagari Market razed by fire a few years ago. Now rebuilt and operational, the new market is under-utilized because some of the traders refused to go back to the market, preferring instead to continue to operate by the side of the motor garage where they were previously using temporarily.
Wale Okediran is a past President, Association of Nigerian Authors
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