Though I was able to "Walk Like an Egyptian" in Cairo, Kano was a different story. About 500 miles northeast of Lagos, this Sub-Saharan city could have been on another continent. Sure, it had notes of Nigeria - kola nuts and sugar cane sold road-side, okada (and LOTS of them), traffic which would test any patience - but if the airport sign hadn't read "Welcome to Kano," I would guess we had landed in the Middle East or Afghanistan.Kano, with its significant Muslin influence, seemed more Muslim than Egypt. The buildings and palaces invite visitors through Arabic-style entrances. The weather, wind, and sand reminded you just how close you are to the world's largest desert. And you can't drive two kilometers without seeing quotes from the Koran conspicuously displayed on highway signs (in both Arabic and English).
In Lagos, where poverty slaps you in the face, poverty in Kano gets into your blood. Perhaps it was most evident while visiting with the emir's wife. Our tour guide had lived in Kano for many years and befriended Ada during her extended stay. Every year when Paulette brings her tour group for the Sallah celebration, Ada invites the women to share drinks and company in the palace. Though generous and inviting, it was hard to believe we were visiting with an emir's wife! Her living quarters were comfortable but conspicuously rough around the edges...tattered carpeting that frayed as it approached the walls, furniture that probably had seen decades of Sahara dust, and no running water in the toilet facilities. If presumably this is how kings and queens live, it's difficult to imagine the hardship of the general population.
The city of Kano itself proved a far cry from Lagos. Sidewalks make traversing on foot much easier, traffic laws for the most part are obeyed, and foreigners were few and far between. While residents of Lagos construct make-shift homes out of scrap wood or metal, homes in Kano possess a Santa-Fe-esque quality with clay being the most common home construction material. Kano residents are decidedly tamer than Lagosians as well. Street vendor vie politely for business but rarely cross the border from persistence to annoyance. And not once did we witness confrontational yelling between drivers or vendors (a daily occurence in Lagos). A noticable deficit of English speakers made communication more difficult than anticipated (most opt for Hausa, the "language of government" in Nigeria), but despite the language barrier the citizens were warm, welcoming, and just as curious about us as we were about them.
Overall, the calm of Kano was a needed and appreciated break from the everyday mayhem of Lagos living.
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