Gurara Falls (by Sylph)

One Sunday, on the recommendation of the High Commissioner, some of the members of staff at the mission made a trip to Gurara Falls. It was a beautiful day, a sunny day, a picture perfect day for venturing out into the great outdoors. Not too much dust or heat to make the outdoors unbearable. This trip was my mothers first venture outside of the city and at that time in her mind, Nigeria was wonderful, she felt right at home in this country. I was very certain that we lived in two different places, because apart from the tropical climate and vegetation, I most certainly did not feel at home in this place. But she seemed to be quite happy and contented, so I was happy for her.

So we pack up the vehicles and we were off to the falls. We were informed that it was approximately an hour and half hours drive, so we made ourselves quite comfortable to taken in scenery along the way. One thing I have noticed since I am in Nigeria is that life within the city limits is clean-cut, polished and well organised. However, it is no comparison to life outside of the city, where the average Nigerian lives and struggles for their daily existence. So we drive and drive and drive some more and as soon as you leave the city limits you become aware.

For one, within the city, the use of okadas as a means of public transport is prohibited. However, as soon as you leave the city you have to dodge between them, because they are the most affordable and convenient modes of transport around. Secondly, the quality of the streets begin to deteriorate. Within the city all the streets, be it highway, commercial or residential areas, all streets are paved. However, as one proceeds outside of the city you begin to realise that only main streets are paved and not frequently maintained. But that's alright, because I am from Trinidad, where that is the norm. However, if you for some reason venture off onto the side streets, or into residential areas, you may think that asphalt is a scarce commodity, because the composition of those streets are just red dirt, with a hint of garbage.

So we drive and drive and drive some more, dodging the occasional okada and going around the one or two potholes, looking on at the herds of goat and cattle along the way and the vendors as they hustle their trade and then out of no where, I heard my mother ask "is this a market????" And I sat there wondering, is she going MADDD!!!!! Because I have seen sights like this before and I was fully aware that we were no where close to a market, we were simply passing through one of the villages. And right there and then, it dawned on me that this was her first time outside of the city. All she was accustomed to was the nicely paved streets and tall walls, protecting the well designed and constructed homes, with the boys quarters attached and the well manicured yards, with gatemen sitting in the booths out front. This was her first time being exposed to okadas and mud brick homes with thatch roof tops and clusters of make shift accommodation, along the busy roadside.

So I responded to her, "no mom, this is not a market, this is life in the village." All of a sudden the nice cool Sunday afternoon drive, which was filled with chatter and laughter, begun to sound like a bus on its way to a seven churches pilgrimage. No lie.... It was so sudden I could not help but laugh. The woman begun to pray and pray her little heart out for the village people of Nigeria. I was ROLLIN...... Now to be honest it really was not a laughing matter, I would be the first to admit. But this was the same woman just five minutes before was making jokes and laughing harder than everyone in the vehicle. Talking about how wonderful Nigeria was and her views of the country..... That same woman now had the facial expression of a death in her family and was offering more prays than at Sunday mass. It was too funny....... For the rest of the journey to the falls we sat in silence, me with my mp3 player on, with murmur of the occasional prays in the background.

Gurara Falls though was a sight to behold. Its source is said to be River Niger, the third longest river in Africa. We spent a lovely afternoon, picnicking on it banks and being thankful for all the great blessings that have come our way in life.