Cultural Revolution

San Francisco's Chinatown has been a centerpoint for Asian culture since the late 1800s. Only recently surpassed by New York's Chinatown for largest Chinese population outside of Asia, it has maintained its diversity, culture, language, and way of life for a century and a half. So how has Chinatown managed to resist both assimilation by its residents and gentrification by other neighborhoods? History may give us a clue...

The major influx of Chinese immigrants began in 1848. California's gold rush brought not only pioneers from east to west but enticed folks from the Far East as well. Jobs were thought to be numerous, and many Chinese intended to get rich quick then leave. With plans to return home soon, the attitude, mentality, and need to "fit in" just weren't there.

Well, we all know how this story ends. Few found gold in the rush to get rich. And like the locals, the Chinese immigrants found themselves with empty pockets and homes too far away to afford the return ticket. But the rich Chinese culture stayed as did the resistance to the American culture that surrounded them. And the minute you set foot on Portsmouth Square, you'll see exactly what I mean.

Benchsitters read Chinese newspapers, groups of men coop together for gambling matches, and English conversation seems a world away. It literally could be a square in Pick-Your-City, China. With firecrackers popping for the Chinese New Year and laundry hanging from windows and balconies, the only clue that you haven't been transported yourself are the financial district buildings peaking in the skyline.

Perhaps it's camaraderie. Perhaps it's population density (10-times San Francisco's average). Regardless, Chinatown's population has managed to maintain reminders of home. Wet markets with cheap produce and fresh fish line the sides of Stockton Street. Dim Sum and tea are the consumables of choice. And in true Chinese entrepreneurial style, the San Francisco-born tradition of Fortune Cookies (that's right, they're American-made) can be purchased and photographed for nominal fees.

Despite its proximity to San Francisco's commercial and financial centers, Chinatown's cultural revolution has managed to hold its ground for over 150 years.

The Dreaded DMV

One of my most dreaded tasks as a new-state transplant is visiting the DMV. Transferring car titles, driver's licenses, and registrations never seems to go as smoothly as planned. So armed with car insurance, SMOG test results, and of course my checkbook, I prepared for the worst.

As I approached California's DMV, I had vivid flashbacks of long lines, rude employees, and inefficient procedures at the Chicago's Drivers Facility eight years previously. There, I spent 3 hours in line for about 3 minutes of service (pose, snap, and pay). And I got off easy. There was a woman from Poland being berated by a state employee while trying to take the driving test in English (why they don't have Polish driving tests in the city with the largest Polish population outside of Warsaw is beyond me).

From the driver's license line, I moved to another line for title and registration transfer (another 2 hour wait). I guess multi-tasking is not status quo for the State of Illinois. There I met yet another poor soul being yelled at about problems with his title. Being from South America and speaking limited English, I asked the man in Spanish what seemed to be the problem and helped as I could. After 5 long hours of waiting and watching other's being verbally abused, I was free to drive legally (and park illegally) in Illinois.

Seeing as my past experience was a bit traumatic, I approached California's DMV with apprehension (and praying no one yelled at me). With cuts in government spending, which meant cuts in DMV hours, I'd been warned of lines circling the building and astronomical wait times. And with employee hours cut, they most certainly wouldn't be in good moods! Boy was I in for a surprise...

The non-descript architecture, tiled floors, and subdued atmosphere were the worst things I would see that morning. The process itself was efficient, with a "front man" making sure I had what I needed before I faced the wait-time. Once inside, there were chairs (not lines) to comfortably await my turn, and in less than 30 minutes I was face-to-face with a pleasant DMV employee. Name change, written test, license, vehicle inspection, payment receipts, and title and registration were all processed in less than 2 hours. Considering I was getting "the works," this was darn fast by my standards.

So for all those Californians who complain about the DMV, count yourselves lucky. You could be driving in Illinois!

Ignoring Culture

It's easy when living abroad to focus on differences. I myself am no exception as you've probably read in many of my blogs. Differences are interesting. Differences make for good conversation. Differences are acceptable explanations for things that may go wrong. But what I've come to realize is that our friendships and courtships do not depend on accepting differences, ignoring differences, discerning differences, or being "culturally sensitive." They depend on embracing similarities.

It is not necessarily similar upbringings, but it can be. It is not necessarily similar religious or ethical beliefs, but it can be. It is not necessarily similar cultural backgrounds, but it can be. My point is that often "culture" gets in the way of knowing the person as they are away from the cultural backdrop that might or might not influence their lives.

I think of my friend Esther as I write this. Chinese-born but living and studying in Singapore while I was there, she quickly became a very good friend. Sure, there were times when I did something that I knew was culturally awkward in her eyes. But she knew my character and I knew hers. We both valued education, were hard workers, valued friendship and loyalty, respected family responsibilities, and depended on each other more than I think either of us knew. You see it wasn't despite our cultures that we became friends; culture never was a factor to begin with.

I realize that it's trendy to be culturally sensitive, and I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. But at some point we should tread softly on the fine line between "culturally sensitive" and "culturally obsessive." When we meet someone of the same culture, we automatically assume a certain status quo. If someone is late, rude, or cheap, it's just who they are. But what if they're Latino, American, or Jewish? Well then, it must be "cultural." You see, culture is all well and good until you start focusing on it, assuming the presence of it, and choosing relationships based on assumptions that go with it.

When culture is the same, status quo is very often ignored. So maybe that's how we should approach all our relationships...even the intercultural ones.

By the People, For the People

As our time living abroad comes to a close, it seems appropriate to reflect on the differences between Lagos and Singapore. But what most travelers do not realize is just how much Nigeria and Singapore have in common. The countries' histories and cultural make-ups seem all too parallel. And if you visit both countries today, you may wonder how one could have done so much and the other done so little.

Nigeria and Singapore were both occupied not only by the British, but the Portuguese. Lagos is actually Portuguese for "lagoons" and Portuguese influence in cuisine and architecture is still found in Singapore’s homeland of ‘ole, Malaysia. While the past Portuguese influence in both countries is present but scant, the British influence permeates, most obviously in language. English is the lingua franca, with most using the local creole (Singlish and Nigerian pidgin) to communicate.

Nigeria and Singapore both claim a mixed cultural backdrop: Nigeria’s dominant tribes being Hausa, Igbo, and Yoruba; Singapore’s ethnic mixes consisting of Malay, Chinese, Indian, and Eurasian. Both are key port cities, boasting prime locations for stop-offs and drop-offs. And their equatorial climates encourage rampant growth of just about anything that is planted.

But most surprising is both Nigeria and Singapore parted from the British empire the same year (1963). In the almost 50 years since independence, Singapore has grown to cosmopolitan acclaim, provides high standards of living for a large percentage of its population, and boasts some of the toughest schools and brightest professionals worldwide. Nigeria, on the other hand, still struggles to provide for even its richest inhabitants and has been riddled with corruption, civil war, and poverty.

So why has Singapore thrived and Nigeria dived? After all, Nigeria has oil (and lots of it) and Singapore boasts no resources of its own. Many may claim greed the culprit…after all, how often in history have we seen countries swimming in the coveted resources of the day only to fall victim to thievery and social decay? Others may think it’s cultural work ethic or unresolved tribal conflicts.

For me, I believe it goes beyond this, yet all being symptoms of the bigger culprit at hand. While Singapore evolved, Nigeria was created. As a well-respected friend and brilliant theorist wrote, “our superconductor world is at odds with centuries of native tribal and religious conflict. Consequently, when the pressure is on to ‘make it happen’– get that infrastructure up and running, stop the tribal infighting, hold free elections, and join our United Nations – the emerging nations are like high school football teams playing against the New England Patriots in the Super Bowl. It is not that nations can’t make it happen; it is that their nation-building process has yet to evolve and may not evolve for 100 years.”

You see, Singapore was given the chance to evolve as it should, to face troubles in its own time and way, to create a country when the time was right. From the beginning, Nigeria’s nation-building process was forced. Three major tribal groups were shoved into one country for no other reason than convenience. Its borders were drawn by Europeans living far away from the reality at hand. And, as with many African nations, particular tribal groups were given favor by the colonialists and granted the power to rule over all tribes. For too long, Nigeria was denied the right to develop on its own time line, in its own way.

While Singapore had a hand in its own creation, Nigerians still struggle in a country that was created neither by the people nor for the people.

*The picutre of Lagos is courtesy of outhere.de

Is Singlish a Sin?

As an English speaking visitor to Singapore, don’t expect to understand everything that is said. Though most Singaporeans do speak English, the Chinese-esque grammar combined with tones and pronunciation unfamiliar to the Western ear can make communicating a bit tricky. But is Singapore English, known as Singlish, a sin? According to the Singapore government it is.

For 6 years, Singapore has tried to play language police through its Speak Good English movement. Web pages, blogs, and teaching and vocational materials promote “standard” English as the preferred form. But as a student of language and culture, this particular topic strikes too close to home. The official stance of the movement is “to encourage Singaporeans to speak grammatically correct English that is universally understood.” Being universally understood is important; after all, what is the point of communicating in the same language if you can’t actually communicate. But "grammatically correct"? I'm not buying it.

In my experience trying to understand and be understood in Singapore, it was never the grammar that stood in the way. I quickly caught on to the shortened affirmatives (like “can” instead of “yes, you can”), and since Singlish mirrors the simpler Chinese grammar it’s actually easier to understand than the convoluted and repetitive “standard” English grammar. More so, different accents, pronunciations, and idioms were the cause of communication troubles. So why the big movement for speaking grammatically correct?

Singlish has a stigma: the uneducated, the working class, the foreigners who come to work there for a pittance all speak perfect Singlish. As I see it, wiping out Singlish is not a matter of being universally understood; it is a political and socio-economic statement put forth by the government. It elevates the educated to “preferred” and reduces the uneducated to unacceptable. It brands the upper echelon as “standard” and the working class as deviant. It blatantly states who and what practices the government finds acceptable and unacceptable.

Much like the English-Only movement in the United States, which often ostracises or in extreme cases punishes people speaking Spanish in vocational or educational settings, in Singapore Singlish has been dubbed a sin by the powers that be.

China Talk in China Town

On my recent visit to the Chinatown Heritage Centre, a particular display caught my eye. It described Chinatown as the opium den center of the city where high-end clientelle as well as "coolies" frequented for their daily fix. "Coolies"??? This was a term I hadn't heard before.

For those just as clueless as me, "coolie" is actually in the American-English dictionary: "an unskilled laborer or porter usually in or from the Far East hired for low or subsistence wages." For those more vocabularily inclined, what you may not know is its origin – a loan word from the Chinese kǔlì (苦力), which literally means "bitter; hardship" and "strength." With 75% of Singapore's residents hailing from Asia's most populace country, it's no surprise that Chinese (in its various forms and dialects) dominates the linguistic cultural backdrop.

Though English is for many the lingua franca of Singapore, various dialects of Chinese (mostly Hakka, Hokkien, and Mandarin) are spoken at home and to friends of the same linguistic network. Code-switching (using both English and Chinese) is frequent and no-switching (no English, Chinese-only) is not uncommon. From business cards, to retail signs, to advertisements, Chinese holds its own in this English speaking "international" city.

But it isn't just the "China Talk" here that hints at Singapore's dominant cultural population; just listen to the English (endearingly called Singlish) spoken by Chinese, Indians, and Malay alike. Singlish cadence is staccato and short, with syllables deliberately separated and sounding a bit abrupt to the American ear. Not only is the cadence short, but the actually sentence constructions are, too, mirroring the concise uncomplicated Chinese phraseology.

Speaking in fragments or removing subjects or even verbs is also commonplace in Singlish exchanges. When you answer in the affirmative, a simple verb often suffices ("can," "have," "take" instead of "yes, you can" etc.). This is taken directly from Chinese grammatical structure, which doesn't really have a word for "yes." Also, Singlish sentences often conclude with a lingering "laaaah" or "maaaaah." Similarly, "ma" is the Chinese interrogative indicator placed at the end of questions; while, "le" is placed at the end of many statements as an intensifier or to indicate a completed action.

Both in phonology and cadence as well as construction, the Singaporean English is no doubt influenced by its Chinese counterparts.

***As an aside, the photo above was featured on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations. What Mr. Bourdain may not know is that this sign is a perfect example of the linguistic fusion apparent all over Singapore. Not only does its name appear in Chinese and English, but also pinyin. "Tian tian" is the roman alphabet pronunciation of the two symbols which appear above it. Tian tian (天天) actually means "every day" in Chinese.

A China Town, No Doubt

Though Singapore claims a healthy mix of cultures and backgrounds (Chinese, Malay, Tamil, Eurasian), the Chinese heritage is by far the most pronounced and has affected Singaporean culture in both big and subtle ways. From food, to tradition, to speech, Singapore is a China Town, no doubt.

To give a bit a of background, the major influx of Chinese immigrants to Malaysia occurred during the 15th and 16th centuries. Formerly being part of Malaysia, Singapore also welcomed these Chinese traders and travelers well before its independence in 1965. In fact, many a Singaporean claim not a Malay but Peranakan heritage – a mix of Malay and Chinese ethnicity and tradition. This insurgence of Chinese culture that started centuries ago today remains strong in Singaporean daily living.

Chop sticks and angular soup spoons are staples in Hawker Centers and Food Courts (though I've been told to only use chopsticks when given a bowl; forks are used for plates). Hawker Centers' menu displays are written in Chinese and pinyin (the roman alphabet version of Chinese pronunciations) and with less frequency in English. And of course the cuisine itself, though some is uniquely Singaporean, includes the basic rice or noodle and soup mixtures we've come to know as "typical" Chinese.

The Chinese language dominates conversation as well. As much (or even more so) than English, I hear gossiping, business, and pleasantries exchanged in different Chinese dialects. On more than one occasion, I've needed to "find" an English speaker to help out with purchases and requests. And perhaps most revealing are the signs in Little India...there are more written in Chinese than in Tamil! Even Little India's grocery store has an automated machine saying "ni hao" ("hello" in Chinese) as you enter.

Though Chinese is by no means a necessity here and Western foods abound, visitors will leave knowing Singapore is a China Town, no doubt.

Baba-Nyonya Pride

I'm not so sure our Indian friend from my previous blog would vie much better in Malaysia. While Chinese–Singaporeans prefer to deal with their own in business relationships, Chinese–Malaysian (known endearingly as Baba–Nyonya) are among the most successful businessmen and Malaysia's richest residents. As evidenced by Melaka's Baba–Nyonya house-turned-museum, its sheer size and international flare on display leaves little doubt of Baba–Nyonyas' influence, affluence, and stories of success.

Malaysia's population has been influenced by and integrated with other cultures for centuries. From the Jawi (Tamil–Muslim Malay) to the Chitty (Tamil–Hinu Malay), mixed heritage is a reality for many living in Malaysia. But it is quite obvious which Peranakan group lays claim as the "true" people (or at least the most prominent) of Malaysia, even more so than native Malays – the Baba–Nyonya. Literally translated as "Grandfather–Grandmother," Baba–Nyonya tradition dominates much of Malaysian and Singaporean culture. Identifiable by their batik sarong kebaya (the nyonya's attire of choice) and famous for their multi-cultural cuisine (fusioned flavors which include coconut milk, pandan leaf, and lemon grass to name a few), Baba–Nyonya heritage is easily identifiable and loudly pronounced.

And prideful they are! Even here in Singapore, the local television network broadcasts a weekly comedy that spotlights, plays with, and exaggerates the uniqueness and stereotypes that come with Baba–Nyonya pride. Sayang Sayang (meaning "dear" or "love" in Malay) follows one Peranakan family as they compete for the family business, challenge each others' "Nyonya" skills in a kueh chang-making contest, don traditional Baba–Nyonya batik, and even publish a Peranakan dictionary (Chinese Peranakan of course).

Though Peranakan refers to people of any mixed ethnic origin, Peranakan pride means Baba–Nyonya on the Indochinese Penninsula.

***The first picture above is courtesy of Singapore's Peranakan Museum. The second picture displays kueh chang, Nyonya rice dumplings.

Culinary Curiosities

Growing up, I remember dreading those 5 words my mom would say when she didn't feel like cooking: "let's have breakfast for dinner." That phrase would usually be followed by post-7pm scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Breakfast for dinner? Come on. But just recently the true arbitrariness of our designated choices for morning, noon, and night cuisine came to light.

Now that the new ION Orchard mall opened, my daily commute requires me to navigate a sea of stores and loitering crowds. Nestled between shoe shops, clothing boutiques, and casual dining restaurants is Dunkin' Donuts. My first encounter with the newly opened store was on my way to church one Sunday morning. I remember making a mental note that Singaporeans must not like donuts. The store was empty except for a few token expats getting their sugar rush for the morning.

The following evening I passed by the same store and couldn't believe my eyes...pouring out of this sweet-treat "breakfast" shop at 10pm were two long lines with dividing ribbons to guide the queues. They even had an addition "express" line for those wanting just one or two donuts. Here in Singapore, donuts are an afternoon and late-night snack not a weekend breakfast item or morning staple for those wearing blue.

It's not just scrambled eggs or Dunkin' Donuts after noon that might cause one to pause either. How about beef noodle soup for breakfast (a staple in Vietnam), red beans and rice for dessert (a sweetened Singaporean treat), or fritatas in the afternoon (ever tried tortilla espanola?). So here's to embracing breakfast time in the evening time. And thanks to my mom who, when dad was out of town, would always suggest: "let's have dessert for dinner."

(In)tolerance in Singapore

Singapore prides itself on being a nation of tolerance: tolerance for different heritages, languages, backgrounds, and ways of life. Every year, the nation even places these difference in the celebratory limelight during the country-wide HeritageFest. But how tolerant is Singapore truly? And are those who aren't Singaporean granted the same rights as citizens or even as human beings? I won't get up on my soap box, but here is some food for thought regarding one of the most "tolerant" countries on earth:

1. Muslims are not allowed to wear head scarfs in public schools.
2. Foreigners with HIV will not be granted work permits.
3. Foreign service workers who become pregnant while employed in Singapore will no longer be eligible for work in the country...ever again.

Citizens, Rice Up!

Despite the trials and tribulations of trying to find home cooking while living or traveling abroad, there seems to be one staple regardless of where you go: Chicken and Rice!

I'm sure all of us (at least those of us from the US) have fond memories of Mom's recipe from the back of the Campbell's Soup can: 4-6 chicken breasts, 2 cups rice, 2 cans of cream of mushroom and voila!

Though it takes other forms elsewhere, chicken and rice seems to a constant and basic meal for most around the world. In Lagos, it was chicken and jollof rice (a spicy version made with red pepper paste accompanied by roasted chicken). Tasty even to those with Anglicanized taste buds that are primed for spice. In Singapore it is chicken and rice, a simpler milder form that is flavored with chicken fat rather than cream soup or peppers. According to our Filipina friend, chicken and rice is a basic and common dish in the Philippines. And of course we are all familiar with the sesame-flavored Chinese fried rice that is a standard accompaniment to various chicken dishes.

So if you are worried about how foreign cuisine will jive with whatever you personal culinary tastes may be, rest assure you can always find your chicken and rice. But still bring the Pepcid, just in case.

Foreign Food Frenzy

One day during lunch with my husband and his coworkers, Brian's boss (a native Singaporean) relayed to me her food trials and tribulations during her extended stay in the US. While Brian and I salivate over just the mention of good Tex-Mex, April had difficulty finding good Singaporean food while in the Bay Area. (Let's just say the 1 Singaporean restaurant saw her family's faces on a weekly basis.) April's son also found it weird that the chicken came without heads and feet, and I'm sure Curry Fish Head (which I am told is excellent) would require a search party to find, if it even exists at all, in San Francisco.

The lack of "home" cooking and the appropriate ingredients is one of the major disadvantages of living away from home. No matter who you are or where you go, the comfort foods you've learned to love are often hard to come by. But whether you are Singaporean in the US or vice versa, to get the food that tantalizes your taste buds is often a matter of creativity, research, money, or all three.

Creativity: Often local goods may be substituted for specialized ingredients not found in your country of residence. Jalapenos are scarce in Singapore, but I have (cautiously) tried an array of local peppers which offer similar flavor and spice. Ground chicken is hard to find but ground pork is plentiful and adds a bit more flavor to our Tex-Mex taco plates. And Brian's cousin on his 25th year in the Philippines has wisely invested in a tortilla press.

Research: Sometimes products you think are not available actually are marketed under different names. In Singapore, Chinese parsley is cilantro and ladyfingers is okra. A quick glance and a whiff confirm the synonymous produce names. And when nomenclature is not the hindrance, sometimes just making connections and asking around will yield the goods you crave. In Nigeria, people will often trade or sell goods carried in from the US and will have pantry sales when their stint is over. One friend had a connection with a local who obtained the unused goods from Air France flights. An impromptu trunk sale would yield such things as smoked salmon, champagne, and of course excellent cheese.

Price: More often than not, the products are available but at a hefty price. Celery at $10 a bunch makes you think twice about making gumbo in Nigeria. $1 per tortilla makes taco salad a little more appealing in Singapore.

And when creativity, research, and money fail there is always the local cuisine to explore, try, and learn to love. Fried plantains are a new favorite of mine, and pork fried rice is now the evening meal when I need something quick (move over spaghetti, there is a new flavor in town)! But no matter where you go, rest assured there will be something for you...it may just take a bit more effort.

African Diversity - What I See Is What You Get

For the past couple of weeks, I focused my blog topics on African Diversity based on several recent trips...from Kano to the Eleko Beach Fishing Village to Cape Town. Now I must make a confession...all is not as it seems. The most poignant thing I've learned about diversity and culture during my travels is that you cannot possibly grasp, in totality or truth, the reality of a particular place or culture during a vacation.

Case in point...until our last day in Cairo, I created an image of the city that was a far cry from the comforts of back home. A city that seemed much like Lagos (busy, crowded, a bit "third world") yet it still portrayed an "exotic" feel to me that was unlike Lagos or the United States. But on our last day the falsity of my mere glimpse of Cairo came full focus.

Due to a hotel mix up and end-of-trip exhaustion, we headed out of the city confines early and grabbed dinner close to the airport. A local Cairo restaurant guide indicated there was an On the Border in the Cairo suburbs and just a few miles from the airport. The existence of an On the Border in Cairo was not too surprising; after all, we had seen American food chains speckled in the tourist areas of the city. But the sight we saw when the cab pulled up to our destination blew our mind!

On the Border was housed in a two tower, multi-level building complex that put most American malls to shame. Named "Citystars," this mega-mall accommadated stores such as FCUK, Levi's, and every athletic appareal establishment you could think of (Puma, Adidas, Nike, etc.). And...it was overrun with teenagers! Just like teens and tweens back home, the mall seemed to be the local hangout. Other than the multitudes of scarf-covered heads, this could have been any suburban mall in the United States. So I guess Cairo was more like home than I thought.

As I found out first hand in Cairo, often our perceptions of other cultures, countries, and ways of life are shaped by what little we see and encounter during holiday. Even now, having lived in Lagos for five months, I know I still have much to learn and in some ways am sheltered from the reality of Lagos living. So I ask all of you to take what I say with a grain of salt; know that what I see and what I write is based on my own perceptions and limited experiences; and go out and see for yourself, create your own perceptions, and challenge mine.

(For those of you trying to figure out which Citystars establishments are pictured above, here are your answers: (1) Starbucks (Yep, even in Cairo); (2) Chile's; (3) Macaroni Grill; (4) Toys R Us; (5) On the Border; and, (6) Duh...

Kano - The Sight of a Woman

While in Kano, we also visited privately with one of the emir's 4 wives. Because of Muslim tradition, only women were allowed to see or speak with Ada. Wife number 3 of 5 (which has since risen to #2 with the death of wife #1), Ada spoke candidly about life as an emir's wife. She married when she was 19 and had ambitions to be a pastor and travel the world. Instead she chose a life of seclusion with the emir inside the palace. True, the emir takes her traveling when opportunity arises, but without the emir she must stay in the confines of her living quarters with a couple hours in the evening allowed for courtyard meandering.

She mostly communicates with her husband through concubines...and yes, they are concubines in the traditional sense of the word. They may sleep with him and mother the emir's children...children who will enjoy the same benefits as Ada's. When we asked if she despised the concubines for their relationship with the emir, she seemed a bit surprised. After all, she and the concubines are in the same boat...devoted to the king as helper, companion, and mother of his children. Instead of animosity, they have a mutual respect and understanding for a situation they both share.

It is interesting...when visiting Cairo I expected to feel compelled toward respect of Muslim traditions and beliefs. But it was in Kano that I most noticed the restraints placed on people of my own gender. It isn't just the emir's wife who is confined to her home; it is pretty much any woman over the age of 16 (or so it seemed). We saw girls and older women frequently lining the streets. But as for the other demographics, they were nowhere to be found. And while in Cairo I would not have felt too out of place wearing a modest tank-top, in Kano I did not see one woman without headgear and covered from head to foot. In fact, we were advised to cover our necks before visiting with the emir's wife.

Despite a tradition I do not fully understand, and an anonymity that is true for most women not often seen outside their homes, it did not seem a hindrance to who these women are. The emir's wife is strong, she is outspoken and candid, and she has accepted her choice in life as her own. She has three equally strong daughters, all of whom chose different paths than their mother's...to see the world and be seen by it.

Kano - Barka da Sallah!

As it happened, we visited Kano (and Katsina) during one of their biggest festivals of the year - the Durbar. In celebration of the end of Ramadan, the emir hosts a colorful parade of flags, music, and horsemen. Historically organized as a show of forces and undying allegiance to the emir, its modern day participants are usually high-ranking community officials and businessmen exhibiting symbolic allegiance to the king. The emir's family are often involved (the men at least) and can be identified by conspicuous "bunny ears" atop their heads.

The procession proceeded much like a parade except in the round. Acrobats demonstrated their flexibility and tricks; drums, xylophones, and long pipe-like instruments provided musical entertainment; and extravagantly adorned horsemen marched to the arena center in anticipation of the emir's arrival. At its climax, the more prominent community members rushed full-speed from one arena end to the other to greet the emir himself. Clothed from head to foot and shaded by a large ornate umbrella, the emir accepts the honors then retreats to his palace for visitors.

From those living in the palace to those living in the bush, all celebrate this holiday (the Eid) with a sacrificial goat, cow, or chicken for the most impoverished. The day before festivities began, we watched Kano residents chose from among hundreds of cows the best one possible for their Sallah celebrations. We also saw goats being expertly skinned having been carefully slit at the throat in halal style, then blown up like a balloon through its hind leg for easier skinning.

The Sallah meat itself is cook, fried, and cooked again it seemed, and the final product texture is somewhere between overcooked shredded beef and beef jerky. Tasty, salty, and as dry as the Sahara desert! The Durbar, with its colorful adornments and regal procession, is an event northern Nigeria can truly claim as its own.

African Diversity - Kano, Nigeria

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.

Egypt - Walk Like an Egyptian

As a typical part of my pre-travel ritual, I do extensive research on what attire to pack. Weather, terrain, cultural activities, and the like all play a role in my complicated decision-making matrix for proper packing protocol. And as with our other jaunts in and outside the US, I went through the same rigorous process for our trip to Cairo…with one slight alteration: I was a woman entering the gateway to the Muslim world.

With the Middle East a mere hop over the Red Sea, my ways had to amend and not offend. No shorts, no scoop necks, no tanks. A friend who used to live in UAE had told me stories about Sharjah (a small emirate beside Dubai). Even if just driving through, she had to cover her head in observance of Muslim law. Another friend who lived in Kuwait always carried an emergency jumper she could toss on if so compelled. As a visitor to Egypt, I was determined to blend in and respect the traditions of a country I knew little about. So armed with a scarf and no-wrinkle, ankle-long skirt I was ready to walk like an Egyptian.

As it turned out, my worries were unwarranted. Now, you wouldn’t want to sport your Daisy Dukes, and most women did wear headgear; but, you weren’t obligated by any stretch to alter your typical American dress. Though definitely in the minority, scarfless women were not an unusual sight. And after a while, the scarves themselves seemed to pass your notice, blending in as another accessory to the outfit as a whole. Maybe it was because the women in Cairo had an impeccable sense of style, or perhaps it was the utility factor amidst wind and dust; whatever the reason, the missing hairdos and ponytails faded into the unremarkable.

Tradition carries such a ring of normality in Egypt you almost cease to notice. Take the all-woman subway car for example. In each subway station, a two-car length shaded section along the track indicates where the “women cars” stop. You aren’t forbidden to ride the other cars alongside men (I saw a number of women do so, with and without headgear); it’s just a small Muslim convenience, and widely used I might add, for the women abiding by more conservative beliefs.

Though we saw the occasional full-body coverage with gloves and face scarf, coverage was not a requirement for females by any means, nor was walking three feet behind my husband on the street. As it turned out, it was much easier to walk like an Egyptian than I thought.

Egypt - More Than You Bargain For

After living in Lagos for 3.5 months and having to bargain on a biweekly basis for everything from tomatoes to key chains, I thought I had it down. The seller starts high, the buyer goes way low, and then somehow you manage to agree on a price that is suitable for both parties. In Lagos, bargaining (or pricing) seems to be a way of life. A price is never set so pricing is the natural progression of the buying process after you've chosen what to buy and before you bring it home.

But the minute we set foot in Egypt, all bets were off. Bargaining was like walking into crossfire. You could not walk 20 feet without a street vendor shouting at you, a cabbie soliciting your business, or an eager seller following you down the street. Wherein Lagos you simply pass a vendor by, in Egypt there is no such thing as "no." Persistence seems to be the way to subsistence, and with good reason. If one vendor doesn't attract your business, there are 10 others waiting for it just down the road.

In Lagos, if a vendor doesn't like your price you may volley once or twice, state you highest price ("1,000 Naira, finish!"), then agree to disagree and simply walk away. In Egypt, the bargaining could go on and on. This quickly became clear with one particular Egyptian vendor selling a Louis Vuitton wallet (a very obvious knockoff I might add). He started a $50 American dollars, and I knew full well I wasn't going to pay more than $10. We got down to $20, and I began questioning my own decision to buy. After all, I didn't really need the wallet, and the poor quality stitching (un)sealed the deal. As I began to walk away, the price quickly fell to $15, then $10, the $7...and I was out of earshot. I guess in Egypt you really can get more than you bargain for.

African Diversity - Egypt

Lagos living with Cape Town convenience...that's what I thought when we first arrived in Cairo. The city itself had more than hints of Lagos. Dirty, crowded, and bustling to name just a few. Though a mere 8 millions residents compared with Lagos' 13 million, the streets were packed with pedestrians, street vendors, and traffic that puts New York City to shame.

One of our first stops while in Cairo was Egypt's national museum. From the outside, the regal building seems to announce the true value of what it holds inside. But once you enter, thousands of 4,000-year-old artifacts sit in aisles, un-encased and unprotected. Similar to many of Nigeria's museums, there seems to be a severe lack of priority (or perhaps a lack of funds) when it comes to artifact preservation and presentation. Glass panes held together by cracked wood formed the display boxes we peered into. Half the time the artifacts were unlabeled, and those that were displayed type-writer descriptions on yellowing paper. Up until recently, the mummies of Egypt's most famous pharaohs were not protected adequately from temperature, air, or other elements giving new meaning to the phrase "oldie moldie." But regardless of a general paucity and priority for preservation, the sites of the city, their historical significance, and the sheer number of ancient artifacts you can see is a tourists dream.

As an added bonus, the city's infrastructure makes it all easy to see. Cairo boasts the only subway on the African continent. A safe, new, and clean transportation option, the subway is easy to navigate and cheap (about 20 cents per ride). Currently it doesn't go as far as the airport in the northeast or the Pyramids out west, but taxis are numerous and the highway system decent. Just make sure your hotel writes your destination (and your hotel address!) in Arabic for the non-English speaking cabbies.

Despite just a few language barriers, overall we were surprised by how much English we saw and heard in this primarily Arabic speaking city. And once we traveled to Luxor, us mono-glots were in heaven! As a general rule, you can assume anyone in Luxor speaks your language...Spanish, German, even Japanese. At one point during our trip, a vendor approached us trying to sell some papyrus. Not receiving an immediate response from us in English, he subsequently switched to Spanish, then Italian, then German. No joke!

Despite traces of third-worldness (a gentle reminder that we had not left Africa), Cairo and Luxor were easy to navigate, tourist friendly, and cosmopolitan to say the least.

African Diversity - Cape Town Class

In addition to top-notch infrastructure, Bay-Area-esque feel, and severe lack of wild animals running around, Cape Town eluded its "African" stereotypes in another way -- my skin fit in. How could this be? After all, South Africa is only 18% white!

Staying in the tourist area close to the VA Waterfront, and presumably one of the most affluent parts of town, racial demographics seem askew. Our Nigerian friend EG observed this as well...a severe lack of bi-racial couples, especially noticeable to her and her Anglo-American boyfriend, Wes. Though not completely absent of racial diversity, this well-to-do area is hardly representative of the city as a whole. Speaking to this point, a former DePaul University classmate of mine made a poignant observation: "You can't talk about race without talking about class." And in Cape Town you see the striking truth to this statement. Cape Town is where race and class collide and divide.

This reality became conspicuously apparent toward the end of our trip. As inevitably happens in unfamiliar cities, Brian and I took a wrong turn on our way back to the city. As we drove past the casinos trying to find an alternate route, our environment became strikingly familiar -- vendors walking between cars selling anything from fruit to car mats; make-shift shanties flanking the roadway; and, of course, our skin color placed us in the minority. No...we were not in Lagos. We had stumbled upon one of Cape Town's many "townships" where the less than affluent reside and apparently black skin was a condition of lease.

In my previous blog Class-ic Racism I wrote, "In Nigeria it is not my race that I notice most...it is my class." But pondering once again my former classmates statement, I know she is right. You cannot talk about race without talking about class...even in Africa.