Tinkerbel the Egufe Snatcher

A blood cuddling scream from the living room caught me unawares. In my shock I spilled ewedu soup (traditional yoruba delicacy) on my new white jean shorts. My elder sister who was sitting beside me quickly stood up and ran out of the room as I followed in close pursuit to the living room. The scene we met was like something from the famous Tom and Jerry cartoon. My youngest sister, Esse, was in tears, rolling on the floor and howling at the top of her lungs, while another younger sister, Ohis, had caught one of our dogs 'Jackie' and was trying to beat it with a shoe!

It was the year of our Lord, 2004, my elder sister and I were visiting home from university. We had bought amala (plantain meal) and ewedu with 'egufe' (goat meat). For as long as I can remember, our parents have prohibited buying cooked food from roadside canteens because my mom who was a nurse was conscious of the health hazards and my dad simply didn't like eating out. This strict upbringing however, did not stop us from craving the odd roadside akara (bean balls) fried in palm oil or the the tuwo (Hausa traditional meal) sold on the way from the local bustop. Rather it sharpened our thirst for roadside canteen foods.  

Photo Credits: Idowu Ejere sefiesm...Sept 2015

Presently

We had bought 4 helpings of amala and egufe and my elder sister and I went to eat in the bedroom, another taboo we never try when our parents are around, while my younger sisters went to eat in the living room sitting as close to the TV as possible. They had just settled down to eat when there was a knock on the door. A friend of one of our other sisters (we are so many), who was not at home at the time, came looking for her. Ohis was anxious to begin eating and so summarily explained that Olly was away on a French Village excursion. She saw the guest off but forgot to close the door to the porch so one of our dogs, Jackie, who had smelt the food from afar quietly entered the living room and ate Esses's Egufe. Esse who was at the fridge getting some water, walked in at that moment and let out a blood cuddling scream. We heard the scream from the bedroom and ran to the living room and found Ohis who was now back in the house trying to beat the dog.

The dog was faster than her and ran out through the front door closely followed by Ohis, crying Esse, Odion and I. As we chased the dog round the back of the house, the dog noticed that the back door was open and ran through it to the living room and at that moment it must have noticed that there was another plate of egufe right there, all for the taking! We chased the dog into the living room and saw it flee out the front door with Ohis's egufe in its mouth. 

Even as i recall that day i can't help but laugh as words cannot explain the sadness we all felt that day. Ohis and Esse's sadness was justified because the dog ate their meat but even when we shared with them we felt bad and they were still dissatisfied. Esse was to mourn about the egufe for dayssssss!

Right now I am on my way to 'Iya Oyo' restaurant in Utako Abuja.. egufe on my mind!

Idowu
Abuja
2015

FROM PUNTA DEL EST TO ACCRA...

Idowu Ejere: Tente Farms, Jos, Plateau state Nigeria

“It isn’t where you came from,
its where you’re going that counts.”
—Ella Fitzgerald


Few young people rise to a position, early in their career, where they can inspire others and make a change. For those who do, even fewer dare to take the risk then, to stand up, and push for changes.
Idowu Okheren Ejere is one of those few. As a young Nigerian diplomat and researcher, she is presently the Communication and Public Awareness Officer at FARA. Given the opportunity to coordinate the media outreach at the upcoming Africa Agriculture Science Week (AASW6), she took her task as an opportunity to use young people’s enthusiasm for social media, and pull them into the conference’s social reporting team.
One month before the conference, over 100 young professionals are now already part of this team, ceasing the conference as a way to learn new tools, and learning how to integrate these into their daily work.
This is a story how African youth can inspire people, when given the opportunity…
Meeting Idowu

Idowu holds a B.Sc in International Relations from Igbinedion University Nigeria, an M.A in Globalization and Development from the Institute of Development Studies (IDS), University of Sussex (UK). She is currently studying for a PhD in Development Studies at the Natural Resources Institute (NRI), University of Greenwich and an MSc Poverty Reduction at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS). She also holds several professional certificates from Harvard University and China Agricultural University.
Her career spans the public and private sectors with a keen interest in the research on food security, resource management, conflicts, agrarian change and rural development.
Discovering the power of social media

As a born communicator, she held several social media accounts on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Blogger, etc, but used them mostly for personal purposes until last year. In November 2012, she attended the Social Media Training in Uruguay under the auspices of GCARD2. Idowu says this was a turning point in her life as she realized the power of social media: How it could be used to preach the gospel of poverty reduction and food security. At GCARD2, she discovered how social media could foster the goal of Agricultural Research for Development (AR4D) and specifically how social media could be used to get the voices of millions of people across the globe heard in high level discourses.
Implementing social media at the AASW

After GCARD2, she was part of the Planning Committee for the 6th Africa Agriculture Science Week (AASW). She realized from the previous AASW that one of the challenges was “getting the message out to people outside the usual audiences”, including policy makers, young people and the general public.
With the upsurge in the use of mobile technologies in Africa came the use of social media. Today Facebook is the single largest -virtual- nation outside any country with over 500 million active users. Twitter and Myspace are doing just as well. This “virtual nation” cannot be underestimated in the current architecture of agriculture and food security discourses.
With this in mind she suggested to the FARA Secretariat Organizing Committee to invest in bringing a group of young social reporters to the AASW. They would be trained on social media tools and would report “live”, from the conference. This onsite team would be supported by a virtual team, from all over the world, who would remotely assist this group of “social reporters”.
As great minds think alike, FARA teamed up with CTA, GFAR, CGIAR and YPARD with the common goal to build the capacity of young people as a voice for the role of research in African agricultural development. This “Communication Partnership” culminated in the AASW social media team we have today. This would not have been possible without the support of Prof. Monty Jones of FARA, Dr. Michael Hailu and Mr. Sam Mikenga of CTA, Ms. Marina Cherbonnier of YPARD, Mr. Piers Bocock and Mrs. Enrica Porcari of CGIAR and Mr. Peter Casier.
The role of social media at the AASW

The world is changing and we need to have people from all ends of the world contribute to discourses that involve their future and well-being. Africa is no different, and the 6th Africa Agriculture Science Week is no different: At the conference, social media will create an avenue for those who are unable to participate physically at the science week. Social media will allow us to involve more people than merely those present at the conference venue, especially the youth who are easily overlooked in global development discourses.
In this way, social media would allow inclusion, participation and collaborations to achieve the conference’s goal of “Africa feeding Africa through science and innovation”.
Get involved!

The AASW social reporters team is a fast growing virtual team. With over 100 people in the group already, we are already virtually working together to learn the social media tools. way ahead of the conference. The AASW social reporters are now organising webinars and peer-assist sessions, coupling the “experts”, with those eager to learn more. At the same, the team is preparing the conference’s social media outreach via a Google Groups email discussion forum.
Do you want to join this virtual team? Send an email to p.casier(at)cgiar(dot)org, the AASW Social Media Coordinator and we’ll gladly integrate you in our group!
Peter Casier

Original post was published on the AASW6 blog – Follow the conference via the #AASW6 Twitter tag, follow @FARAinfo on Twitter and on Facebook
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SHARKI AND THE MAD DRIVER

Driving home furiously, scarcely adhering to traffic rules, giving the finger to a diplomatic vehicle trying to overtake me, yelling furiously at a ‘danfo’ driver coming too close to me, only to realize he didn’t hear me through my wound-up car window, so I wound down and shouted ‘shege’ giving him all five fingers. He gave me all five fingers in return. At that moment I almost temporarily lost control of the steering wheel but I tightened my grip just in time.  Unfazed, I raced home, driving as if pursued by demons. At my gate, I blared the horn several times persistently, very uncharacteristic of me, which surprised the new young security guard, then shouting “why are you so slow?” His plastered smile turned to shock as his mouth formed a surprised ‘o’. Before he could summon an answer I had driven off to my parking space, jumped out of the car and run up the stairs.

My Office in Accra 2012

 I got to the door of my apartment before I realized that I left the apartment door key in the car. For the umpteenth time I made a mental note to attach the apartment door key to my car key ring. I took off my shoes, ran right back down the stairs yanked the car door open, grabbed my keys from the pigeon hole and ran all the way back upstairs to my first floor apartment.  I fought briefly with the door as I tried to open it in a hurry. It finally gave in and I ran into the apartment not caring to close the door behind me. At that moment I wasn’t thinking of the mosquitoes that will bite me later that night. All that was on my mind was the ‘gbegiri’ (traditional Yoruba soup made from blended beans and palm oil) soup in the freezer.

Earlier that day, I had been fasting, my first attempt at such in over a year. The hunger had eaten so deep that I was unable to concentrate on anything at the office. It is amazing how hungry one gets when you are deliberately avoiding food. I had tried to break the fast earlier but a look at my office cabinet revealed an empty tin of Ovaltine chocolate drink. Whoever finished my Ovaltine had also depleted my biscuit collection left an empty wrapper of Tuc biscuit behind. I was livid!

I made it through the day because I had an important meeting to attend at close of business. Throughout the meeting my stomach kept making rumbling unladylike noises, I bowed my head throughout the meeting in order not to make eye contact with any of my colleagues otherwise I would have been too embarrassed.  Back in my office, I alternated between answering official emails and Facebook messages in order to kill time until the hunger started to blind me. I almost shouted ‘hallelujah’ when my phone alarm notified me that it was 4pm I didn’t bother shutting down my computer properly, I closed my laptop, put it in its bag, grabbed my handbag and left the office.

I was sneaking out of the office when my supervisor walked in and asked to see me privately I almost snapped but kept myself in check. From the look on my face he could tell that something was wrong so when he asked if I was okay I told him I was sick so he let me go. In the car I didn’t bother connecting my ipod I just started the engine and drove off spraying gravel, only to meet a traffic jam at the intersection on the way home. Not that it was unusual, just that I really didn’t need that.  It was an effort in futility looking for something to buy from traffic hawkers as today of all days there seemed to be only recharge card, bathing sponge and knives sellers. All the ‘kpekere’ (plantain chips), hawkers where nowhere to be seen, so I had no choice but to intensify my efforts at getting home.

Amala at Gbagiri Iya Basira style Accra Ghana 2013

Presently, I was in my apartment where I ran straight to the kitchen. Shaky hands grabbed the electric kettle and filled it to the brim with water from the tap. I opened the cupboard, grabbed a small wrapped parcel, it contained some ‘elubo’ (dried yam bark flour), hurried to the fridge where I searched frantically for the bowl of gbegiri and ewedu, left over from last night. I found it and quickly placed it in the microwave and shut the door with a slam at the same time switching it on at the wall socket with my left hand. I grabbed a plate from the rack and set on the counter, went back to the fridge to grab a chilled bottle of water, the water in the electric kettle had started boiling, so I grabbed a pan from the lower cupboard and set on the counter. I poured a quarter of the boiling water in the pan then poured the elubo. As I ran to the drawer to fish out a ladle, I flipped on the gas switch then put the elubo pan on the fire and proceeded to turn the amala till it was shiny black and smooth.

I used a kitchen napkin to take the soup bowl from the microwave which had gone off then promptly rinsed my right hand at the tap and dove into the amala. First ‘okele’ (Yoruba word for morsel) burnt my fingers, my lips, throat and my stomach. I immediately started hiccupping. I took a swing from the bottle of water beside me, I was way past caring. I turned on the tap rinsed my hand again, and left the tap running. I cut another big okele this time the burn was too much I started blowing air from my mouth into the okele willing it too be cool enough to swallow. I swallowed it, cooled my fingers in the running tap water and took the next okele.

I couldn’t wait any longer so I took a bite of the ‘sharki’ (Yoruba word for the stomach portion of goat or cow meat), my stomach rumbled in agreement. It tasted so good, I took another huge bite and as my teeth sunk in and hooked the meat, I tried to pull with my incisors to cut it off while pulling the remaining end with my right fingers. It made a sound like an elastic band that had snapped, the sharki hit my face and soup sprayed over my face entering my right eye. I immediately dropped the ‘sharki’ on my right hand with a yelp of pain. As the sharki fell back to the plate it made a splashing sound and I felt rather than saw the palm oil stains create batik marks all over the front of my pink Banana Republic shirt.