Tuesday, 13 December 2011

On Coming Home

We have been back home in the UK for a few days now. Even as we were on the plane I was silently mulling over the past two years' journey with VSO (the TVscreen in front of me didn't work so I couldn't watch Return to the Planet of the Apes or Winnie the Pooh!).  And quite a journey it has been. It is hard to imagine going back to my old life - at least for the moment. Being jobless and homeless kind of focuses things for a while and will occupy our daily activities for the next few weeks and days - that and acquiring some warm clothing!
On the first night I lay in bed, engine noise still filling my head, and it was so quiet - it was as if everybody had got up and left - no traffic noise, no goats, no calls to prayer, no Radio Kwara. The following morning we had a lie in until 7am - the first time for many months that we had not been up before dawn.
I have a curious feeling that I have outgrown my former working life and have no desire to go back to it. What will replace it remains to be seen but I would not rule out other placements overseas provided they are short term.

Friday, 9 December 2011

….and 50 Things I won’t miss


       1. All the late starts to meetings and general buffoonery surrounding and during meetings

2. Missing the point and nit-picking over trivia

3. The busses!

4. The pot-holes, especially on the Ajase-Offa road  and the 'road' to Jebba!

5.   Rudeness and lack of consideration of drivers, to pedestrians especially.

6. Being hissed at to get attention! Hate this and completely ignore it.

7. Having ‘Oyinbo’ called after me and being expected to respond with smiles and waves.

8. The anger and frustration when you hear of incidences of gross corruption and ordinary people being ripped off.

9. Everything highly peppered with chilli – even some makes of biscuit!

10. Living behind bars – I long for a room with a view!

11. Generator hell! Noise from all directions well into the night – if not all night!

12. NEPA – or lack of, and the uncertainty over whether tonight’s meal will be cooked by candle light or not.

13. Cockroaches and micro-ants, but my aim with a spray can has improved greatly.

14. Picking weevils out of the beans.

15. Market traders and taxis ripping us off whenever the chance arises.

16. Having to stand on protocol at every meeting

17. Any contact with inefficient and pompous authority.

18. Roadside police extorting money and trying to look mean –usually succeeding till they spot me and then its wide grins and waves.

19. Slow/no pace of progress in simple matters

20. When people don’t keep your appointments with them – or prepare what they should have

21. Working in the office – not really what I came here for!

22. PSA forms – a bloody nightmare!

23. Trying to conduct business meetings while competing with the transistor radio or TV.

24. Jollof rice, pounded yam, egusi soup etc etc. Oh for a fried egg, bacon and mushroom butty!!

25. Not having music to listen to – since all mine was stolen on 16th June at about 2am!.

26. Celine Dion 24/7!

27. Huge trucks belching diesel.

28. As a passenger, feeling slightly worried, if not scared, at the lack of road discipline, especially at busy intersections .

29. Wondering if our flight will take off anytime today.

30. Powdered milk in tea.

31. Buying an Abba CD and finding a Celine Dion album inside.

32. Being in the right place at the right time with your camera to snap an amazing sight and finding your memory card is full.

33. Having to eat rice and soup with your fingers at meetings and trying to look as though you have been doing this all your life.

In conclusion, there are far more things I will miss than not miss, which goes to confirm my present feelings about Nigeria and the people of Kwara especially. Certainly it has had its frustrations and there have been times when I have longed to be home, but I now feel as though I have made progress in ways I had not anticipated and this realisation has come about through having had conversations with people I work with about just that – my impact, and in truth I am sad to be leaving . Funmi said to me many months ago: ‘Seriously, Mr Lea, when you come to the end of your time with us you will be so sad to leave that you will say you are not going back – your family can come out here to live instead’. At the time I thought ‘In your dreams!’ But although this is perhaps going a tad too far, I would love to work at Oro and see to completion the projects I have been involved with.

A pre-departure reflection:

Nigeria’s greatest asset is not its oil but its people and to them I would like to pay the following tribute by acknowledging what they have taught me:

· The importance of every day greetings and courtesies in forming and maintaining good personal relationships;

      · That if you do not have, don’t worry about it – improvise or just do without – you’ll live!

· Humility – the humility that believes that you will cope with life’s challenges – that God will provide, and if he does not, it will be for a reason;

· Not to winge and moan about your lot – there are people worse off especially here;

· That formal education is not the complete answer to your life chances – that there are many skilled people even amongst the illiterate poor who have remarkable talents that are under-appreciated.

· That traditional society lies just beneath the surface and will occasionally erupt through to reveal a completely different set of mores, beliefs and customs that may be at odds with ‘recognised’ practices and with one’s own perceptions of reality. This is a bit disconcerting to sat the least, as with ritualistic killings, but has made me think and reappraise my own position as a westerner coming here to introduce what we perceive to be ‘better ways’ .
      I still find it hard to believe that there are people here who believe that, if you pick up money dropped on the street, you will turn into a yam!

· That women in Africa work extremely hard – far harder than most men – and in our terms get a raw deal – they deserve our respect for their resilience.

· The extent to which corruption of all sorts impacts negatively on the poor who ultimately have to bear the load;

· Being depressed is something of a luxury that the poor can’t afford;

· The extent to which some of those with power and influence couldn’t give a damn about ordinary citizens , have no conscience about malpractice and will rip them off whenever possible, often pocketing obscene amounts of money in the process.

· That in spite of the above, people generally just get on with their lives as best they can and hope that better leaders will emerge eventually.

· That what truly matters is people and values – not possessions or power or status. I have tried in all the schools and colleges I have been to, to make students and teachers appreciate how important the job of a teacher is to the future of their country, always remembering the young girl who said to me that ‘I love Nigeria, but Nigeria does not love me!’

For me, I will take away many memories and I feel as though I have been changed as a person through my experiences and by my acquaintances – hopefully for the better. Returning to the UK at Christmas with all the excess and nonsense is going to be a mighty challenge - one I am not looking forward to but I guess I have got to confront – without offending family and friends in the process. How do I explain to them a position which is outside their terms of reference without coming across as moralising, patronising, a kill-joy, holier-than thou?

May be Funmi is right – perhaps I should just stay here – at least until its all over!!

50 Things I’ll miss about Nigeria

The end of my placement in Nigeria is looming large. I have of course, been reflecting on  the time I have spent here and what I will/will not miss.

So here it is……      50 Things I’ll miss about Nigeria

1.       Slow graceful herds of white cattle grazing the undergrowth under the casual gaze of their herdsman who may/may not be peeing by the roadside as you drive past.

2.       Careering down the road to Oro in the Kia with the crooning Don Williams on the CD player actually, this belongs in my next list, I think – after a few dozen such trips.

3.       The genuinely warm greetings and wide smiles wherever you go – something we have lost.

4.       The synchronised head-turning of okada driver and pillion(s) as they  speed  past us.

5.       The courtesy and greetings of school children and their desperate desire to carry my bag.

6.       Small children in Old Cemetry Road running to give us high/low 5’s – and then you realise your hand is a bit slimy!

7.       Abdullahi the gate man, always glad to see me and ask where I am going today – even though the answer is always the same.

8.       Gbenga washing his uncle’s car outside our bedroom window at 5.30 every morning – who needs an alarm clock!

9.       Goats – everywhere, sporting the bit of rag/plastic bag that indicates their owner.

10.   The fantastic wet season electric storms.

11.   Black kites circling overhead at the Kwara hotel, viewing the oyibos in the pool and wondering if they are edible.

12.   The girls of Pakata school in their lemon and lime uniforms, waving,  calling out ‘Mr Lea!’ and coming into my office for chats.

13.   My training sessions with the teachers – usually appreciative, if there is food .

14.   Rough bus journeys to Offa  on the second worst road in the world and the unexpected – always!

15.   My walk from Offa central mosque to Moremi  High School and the people I met.

16.   The okada ride back to the bus garage (a shack) with no helmet- reminder of my youth when I had hair to feel the wind in.

17.   The relief and delight when NEPA comes back on and the water pump works – however briefly!

18.   Watching Premier League football live on satellite TV at Sue’s, trying to fend off the kids.

19.   Playing with Meg and Myesha  - full of fun and creative games.

20.   The spectacular faded grandeur of the big houses in Oro, some with a tomb in the front.

21.   The rare beauty spot – Water View and Sobi Hill – nice relaxing places to visit.

22.   Sunday morning drums and choir from ‘Powerful Prayer’ church – actually, another for the next list!  But I will sort of miss it, painting my Sunday mornings.

23.   The deep faith and belief that any good that befalls people is down to God.

24.   The fresh breeze that precedes a storm and the sound of torrential rain flowing off the roof.

25.   Heavily armed roadside police in knitted tank tops, grinning widely as they greet us – never did manage to acquire one.

26.   Being in the classroom – a real privilege.

27.   The unsubtle and simple sense of humour – so easy to make people laugh.

28.   The kids at Hope orphanage playing with toys and just wanting to be picked up.

29.   Discovering wine in a supermarket – and having enough money to buy it!

30.   Brightly painted roofs in primary colours

31.   Old trucks from the UK still with the names of their previous owners on the doors.

32.   Udofia, Elijah, James, Emmanuel  and Francis, our ever-cheerful, friendly  guards, always grateful for their tea and toast/biscuits/jollof rice.

33.   The neighbours singing ‘hymn book’ at 5.00 every morning – just prior to the car washing ceremony.

34.   Anna and Elizabeth and their mum in the roadside shack, and baby Bridget staring at me with terror just beneath the surface!

35.   The vegetable boy who supports Chelsea - and always overcharges us –but with a smile.

36.   Baba’s handshakes – never sure where my thumb should be but glad when I realise it is still attached!

37.   Trying to work out if African Magic is a great spoof or just chronic script-writing and acting.

38.   Oro Campus on a hill overlooking the town and surrounding bush savanna – quite a view!

39.   The chilly, foggy mornings during harmatan – refreshing.

40.   The cricket match that never was – but the training was fun.

41.   Writing my Blog and composing poems of Nigeria  – it has kept me sane and my mind active.

42.   Delivering workshops and preparing presentations – tiring but rewarding.

43.   Sunlight bursting into our dark apartment when I unlock in the morning – like a release from prison.

44.   Akara  and  sweetcorn takeaways for mid-morning snacks.

45.   The neighbours in our street, so welcoming and cheerful.

46.   Funmi’s opinionated chats and interesting takes on life!

47.   The joy people show when they take to your sense of humour.

48.   The ramshackle, dilapidated state of things which is rather endearing somehow.

49.   The remarkable sights you see on an okada – six people is my record (two on the petrol tank and a baby strapped to the back of its mother;  goat, enamel bath, plate glass window, cow’s head complete with horns, threatening to disembowel any pedestrians .

50.    Having the time just to think about things – situations, priorities, values.

51.  (- OK Maths was never a strong point). The SSIT - never in the field of educational training has so much hilarity been enjoyed by so many so often. I will miss them all greatly.



Thursday, 24 November 2011

SAINTS ON THE MOVE

I was travelling – very slowly- by car in Ilorin today when we were passed – almost equally slowly by a minibus full of people. On the side of the bus were painted the words ‘Saints on the Move’. To me it did not look much like the sort of tour bus that staff and players of either St Helens rugby league club or Southampton FC (nickname the 'Saints') would have chosen – unless those clubs were in dire financial straits. There were no  shining haloes, no cherubs strapped into their seat belts, no feathered angel wings nor wizened old men who looked as though they had come to a gruesome end  amongst the luggage bulging out of the back of the bus. As the bus eased past, it read across the back window: ’Missionary bus’.  I may be misguided or over-sensitive, but I feel somewhat uncomfortable about a level of missionary zeal that declares its own proselytizers to be saints! 
So who are these wondrous people, I wondered? They might indeed have been 'chosen' as their line of traffic seemed to be progressing a lot faster than ours, but I guess I'll never know.
It reminded me of that other window sign I saw that stated  ‘Jesus Saves’ and then underneath the team badge, ‘Chelsea’. What chance do the rest of the Premier  League stand if Chelsea have the Almighty playing for them.  In previous blogs I may have hinted at the observation that in general Nigerians are deeply religious – not necessarily spiritual.

My car journey ended in the office car park but before leaving the vehicle I was quizzed by the driver as to my own religious persuasion. He was greatly surprised by my reply and ended up laughing uncontrollably at my suggestion that some people don’t take the Bible literally and that heaven doesn’t lie somewhere high above the clouds.  VSO warns against getting involved in deep religious discussion, especially given current tensions in the country,  but I didn’t initiate this conversation and each answer I gave to his barrage of questions only seemed to produce more mirth and disbelief. 

There has been a spate of suspected ritualistic killings in Ilorin recently; although nothing has been reported in the local press, most people know about it by word of mouth and there is a feeling of unease and tension when you try to find out more. We know there have been four rapes/ murders in Sabo-Oke which does not make us feel too good and has confirmed to us that we are doing the right thing in leaving next month.  I briefly discussed this with my driver but his grim experssion told me not to go there so I just put up with his remaining questions : Was I a Christian? Did I believe in Allah? I answered ‘Yes’ to both. In the stunned silence that followed I said ‘Odabo’ (goodbye) and made my getaway.

For many people their faith is literal and unwavering and any attempt to follow through with a conversation on say, gay rights will result in quotes from the Bible and a complete, assured and unalterable belief  in their own position which leaves you a bit non-plussed. Anyway, in a country such as this, to have a firm belief in a higher power must be a great comfort - and I don't mean the government!

Wednesday, 16 November 2011

DURBAR

 

The Durbar festival dates back hundreds of years to the time when the Emirate (state) in the north of N igeria used horses in warfare. During this period, each town, district, and nobility household was expected to contribute a regiment to the defense of the Emirate. Once or twice a year, the Emirate military chiefs invited the var­ious regiments for a Durbar (military parade) for the Emir and his chiefs.

During the parade, regiments would showcase their horsemanship, their preparedness for war, and their loyalty to the Emirate – but sadly not their poo-picking skills. Today, Durbar has become a festival celebrated in honour of vis­iting Heads of State and at the culmination of the two great Muslim festivals, Id-el Fitri (commemorating the end of the holy month of Ramadan) and Ide-el Kabir (commemorating Prophet Ibrahim sacrificing a ram instead of his son, which his Mrs Ibrahim must have been dead pleased about – not to mention the son).

We recently attended the Durbar  festival in the Jigawa town of Dutse, perhaps not  the most mag­nificent or  spectacular in Nigeria, but still highly impressive and entertaining. Id-el-Kabir, or Sallah Day, begins with prayers out­side town, followed by processions of horsemen through the streets. Each surrounding village, town, district, and noble house is represented with riders and horses dressed magnificently. Last  to arrive, apart from the security jeep, is the Emir and his splendid retinue of guards and fan-wavers; they make their way to the front of the palace to receive the jahi, or homage, of their subjects. The whole  fanfare is intensified by drumming, dancing and singing – oh! and yes, the guy wearing shades and listening to his i-pod while rollerskating through the procession – a nod to the 21st century or just a local teenager getting in on the act?.

We did a lot of snapping and videoing and then noticed that at times the procession stopped so that those on horseback could take snaps of us!

In Katsina the festival begins with each group racing across the square at full gallop, swords glinting in the sun. They pass just few feet away from the Emir, then stop abruptly to salute him with raised swords. Failing to stop abruptly with raised sword would probably result in a life being stopped abruptly.

 After the celebrations, the Emir and his chiefs retire to the palace probably to watch African Magic or a Premier League Match (probably Chelsea), and have a nice cup of tea and a Hob Nob before going to bed.
 I was virtually instructed by a mobile TV crew  to be interviewed as the bature (white man –an old one at that) on the street. I spoke of the event in wondrous terms. ‘How would I set about advertising the event overseas?’ I was asked.  ‘Well actually that is not my job, thankfully, but before you can even begin to think in terms of mass tourism you’ve got to……’(don’t get me started!)

Monday, 14 November 2011

ALMAJIRAI

The term ‘Almajirai’ is a word borrowed from Arabic  that refers to  people who leave their home in search of knowledge of the Islamic religion. It is an ancient  tradition in northern Nigeria where is has acquired a rather sinister reputation founded on exploitation and injustice bordering on cruelty.

I first heard of the Almajirai during our recent stay in Jigawa when we were shown a DVD produced by Almajirai children themselves. For the Almajirai have had no voice. They are boys, usually, who , from the age of 4 or 5 and up to twenty, are taken by their parents away from the family home – sometimes hundreds of kilometres away, to be placed in the home of a ‘mallam’ or Islamic teacher for the purpose of learning the Koran by heart in Koranic schools.

14 YEAR OLD ALMAJIRI
Perhaps a dozen boys will be provided with sleeping accommodation – no more than a mat and floor space in a room crowded with others. They receive no food and have no option but to beg .
Every morning they are sharply woken by an older boy wielding a whip or stick and quickly flow out into the street with their begging bowls where they are abandoned to fend for themselves. Scavenging from waste bins behind hotels and restaurants or in compounds is common, as is roadside  and door-to-door begging, and scrabbling round in markets for damaged or rotten fruit..
The entire system is unregulated and the mallams untrained, some running their schools in a ‘faginesque’ way, praising those who return with useful items and beating those who do not. There is a common belief among mallams that the more beatings they mete out, the more rewards they will receive in life, which is no consolation to the boys who, after an hour or two of begging must return to the school for prayer and lessons i.e. committing chapters of the Koran to memory – the school, often a shack made or rusted corrugated iron sheets, or a dark musty room in an abandoned building.  Several hours a day are spent reading and chanting the scriptures, sitting cross-legged, unkempt, unwashed with a small slate or torn scrap of paper with Koranic verse scribbled on it. Sometimes one-to-one with the mallam who will gauge their progress and administer punishment to those who do not meet expectations.  The threat of 100 lashes if they fail to recite a chapter accurately would, I imagine, focus minds intensely. The regime is harsh and unrelenting. An Almajiri boy has no rights and receives no respect; they are usually seem as a nuisance. Occasionally an Almajiri may strike lucky and be given alms or be taken in by a family to run errands, as a house boy or may get a job as a shop assistant but wherever they go, they are viewed with suspicion and mistrust.

Eventually, having graduated from the school, the boys are sent back to their families having had no useful education and completely unemployable. Having struggled to exist in the fast lane of urban life, they find it hard to settle back into rural life, estranged from their parents and siblings  and so drift back to the cities where their prospects are bleak – often a life of crime, or being the victims of crime.
In Kano alone it is estimated that there are 1.2 million Almajiri children. Some had been groomed by mallams as foot soldiers in religious clashes and sent to fight, and a real fear exists that Almajirai will be the breeding ground for future terrorists and suicide  bombers.

The State governments concerned pay only lip service to addressing the problem although there have been pilot programmes to try to integrate the Koranic schools into the state system.

So why do parents put their children through this suffering?  Some believe they will reap rewards in the after-life; others believe the official line that the children are being taught a true understanding of poverty and humility – I guess they are also learning about injustice, cruelty, intolerance and bigotry along the way too. Some families clearly see that off-loading children in this way means financial savings to impoverished households                                  
In Sokoto, VSO has provided funds for a shelter for Almajiri boys, but with an estimated 8 million of them in Nigeria, Niger and Chad, the problem seems only capable of being properly addressed at federal level.
VSO  RESCUE SHELTER
The DVD, produced with help from the Goethe Institute in Kano, is the daily life story of Almajirai in their own words and according to their own direction and acting. It is a remarkable achievement and deserves a wide audience

Friday, 11 November 2011

LUCY’S INTERNATIONAL GARDEN

(For all of us who were privileged to enjoy  Lucy and Lawrence’s hospitality in Jigawa this Sallah).

 LUCY'S INTERNATIONAL GARDEN

I rise and greet the half-light at Imam’s strident call

And wonder if my shirt and socks can last another day;

I unwind frustrations of an arid road as I sip and

Savour tea and oranges from afar

And  slowly  slowly slide

Into your deep cool shade.

I sit beside a well beyond the breakfast hour

Watching the gecko and the butterfly,

Trying to glimpse the small small bird with purple  voice

Through the mango-filtered light.

The dappled sun-splashed floor soaks up tales

And stories that come all the way from Ireland

As skills are shared  and lives we seek to change, and

With fine food and beer come all the way from Holland

We forget the hour but

I welcome that the day yet has time for me

To lie in hammock sway

Toasting tranquillity and companionship,

Gifts to us from Africa,

Till the night-birds song

With time of day forgot

And, for the moment , no reason to care

And every reason to belong.


Thanks to all for a fab experience

Lea

Wednesday, 2 November 2011

Yahooooooooo!

Just a quick note to let you know, if you have read the blog that is called  This Blog Contains Disturbing Material', that the head teacher at Pakata Girls School has declared that corporal punishment will no longer be tolerated in her school. Sincere congratulations, Mrs Y. - a bold step into the unknown for you and your staff and a huge forward step. I trust you are not contemplating capital punishment to replace it and that the information on Assertive Discipline proved to be useful bedtime reading - Ekuse!

Monday, 31 October 2011

Kite Flying for Beginners

             KITE FLYING for BEGINNERS

Kite flies high over Sunday morning
Bright spirit of the air
Set free by thoughts and hands and
A flowing breeze like maiden’s hair
String bowed, seemingly disconnected
Vulnerable, inadequate,
For all its rough fixings it rides the wild wind
My energy conducted high into its soul.
I keep it there for all to see
This crest bearing flag that I would  fly on
When  zest and skill is spent, beyond my  leaving,
Higher, avoiding the tangled cliff
Catching the eye of the sky gazer,
Cloud dreamer, truth worshshipper.
I can show you how it flies, and say
‘Take it from me children; take it my friends;
Feel the pull of it
Feel the immunity from darkening skies;
Run with the power of it;
Nurse it as far as the string will allow,
And when other kites appear,
And when you are happy to do so
Simply let go!’  

Friday, 28 October 2011

Hallowe’en Special!

As we are approaching a ghostly time of year with the possibility of strange phenomena occurring along Old Cemetry Road (Yes, I know you don’t spell it like that really, but they do here!), I thought I would describe what I know about ‘ghost workers’ in Nigeria – I haven’t found a picture of one or even any ectoplasm but according to our neighbour they really exist!

In a recent army pensioners audit they found MORE than 24,000 ghost pensioners . A Minister said that August salary and pensions would be paid to staff  through a pay  parade, and that whoever refuses to show up in person would be considered a"ghost worker."


Following a manpower verification exercise conducted by the Federal Government, personnel in the employ of the government were found to be 215,000 not the 255,000 which were in the official records. This leaves a difference of 40,000 names, which in all likelihood, are non-existent. The Lagos State government has similarly announced the discovery of 4,000 ghosts in its "employ".

No wonder a minister once estimated that ghost workers may be costing Nigeria as much as £21 million ( N7 billion ) per month - or N84 billion annually !

Imagine how many teachers or medical workers you could properly employ with that, or how many km of roads you could rebuild!

I don't know whether any one of you  would want to  run your own home and be paying a ghost worker as well; neither can I imagine you would want to run your own private business and be paying  extra ghost workers! In fact, you would be happy for those to be "workers," and yet be "ghosts", because ghosts don't need food, and hence don't need  to be paid!

But not in Nigeria: "ghosts" even seem to need more housing and food than humans. At the rate we are going, there may be more ghost workers than human workers in Nigeria. And those ghosts may also soon have their benefits "monetized" - including their housing allowances, despite the fact that ghosts live in "Iroko" and a few other kinds of trees, according to Yoruba traditional beliefs.

It would be putting something back into the system, 'abi?',  if all the ghosts that may be considering making an appearance this Halloween, actually did some work for once – they could clean up the old ‘cemetry’ for a start – charity beginning at home? (Especially as this weekend .there is the monthly Environment Day.) And then perhaps they could give our guards a break and become ghost-vigilantes for the night – and scare the sh** out of any night prowlers - they'd get my vote, providing they didn't want paying!

Thursday, 27 October 2011

'Smooth Generator'

Do you remember Sade Adu, the Nigerian-born, British-raised smooth-jazz singer  who rose to prominence in  the 1980’s? Her breakthrough song ‘Smooth Operator’ was playing on Radio Kwara this morning – and broken off for the broadcast of daily words of wisdom called ‘Moment of Truth’  - always worth a listen if you’re feeling down!

Anyway, as Sade was singing her heart out in a smooth, mellow way, and in my mind's eye looking gorgeous,  I started to hum along. It wasn’t long before we got to the eponymous refrain, and whether subconsciously or not, I found myself singing ‘Smooth Generator’ as the gen next door fired into action.
So, after a little internal chuckle, I thought I would re-write a few lyrics to go with the tune – sing along if you know it! Being of  Yoruba cultural background, I hope Sade would relate to it.  
Here goes: .....
Fading light……. fading sight……..
Got to get the cooking done before its night ……….

But  no more sweat …………,  we had to go down Taiwo Road,
Had to get…….  (ourselves a)

Tiger Generator: Nigerian Electrical Power SourceSmooth Generator……

Smooth Generator……..

Dusk to dawn and constantly thrumming, power control……..

Neighbours knock and admire the humming,
Give  a roll……..                                                (Nigerian expression!)

Charge your cell phone, fire up your laptop,
Check email…….

Keeping the air cool, finding the fridge cool,
We’re OK…..

We gotta.....

Smooth Generator   (repeat3x)                                                            

After a while, noise getting tiresome,
But its all right…

Close the windows, see how the fan blows
 – awesome sight!

Room to room and into the kitchen,
Constant light……

Top up the fuel tank, pull on the rope crank,
Power all night….

(When you got a ...)

Smooth Generator (repeat 3x or as many times as you like).          He!  He!