Every Stone

That was on the way to lunch. At lunch it was revealed that one of the guys won’t eat the chicken because of bird flu, and the other won’t touch fish because of the mercury. Naturally, all but totally cooked vegetables are also out of the question. Tofu, perhaps? Diet time.

I learned something else interesting on the way to dinner: there’s an established hierarchy to the seats in a regular sedan. When we pulled up beside a car at a “light,” the men in the car beside us were staring at me, which led me to ask…”Why?” On top of being a woman, and a white woman, I was in the VIP seat. The back right seat is reserved for the most important person in the car. When a politician or official is traveling, there’s an even more distinct order: the front passenger seat is the boyguard’s seat, and the back left is for the personal assistant.

Dinner was very sedate. Interestingly enough we drove down Desmond Tutu Drive to Nelson Mandela Street, or some such powerful pairing, to reach our hostess. She is an amazing, fierce, powerfully efficient woman who calmly but energetically manages or sets in motion nearly anything campaign related we could possibly request. She lives in what I understand to be the nicest neighborhood in Abuja. It is beautiful, and her home is lovely, but it is interesting that she has to use a generator for power and buy water to bring to the house for showers and washing — an expense that leads her to forgo watering the grass occasionally. The alternative is to sink boreholes, private wells, essentially, so she can have consistent access to water.

We ate well — really well — and then enjoyed tea out in her gazebo. Finally at 11 pm, we headed back to the hotel, where I sit returning emails and fighting off sleep.

Tomorrow breakfast will be between 7:30 and 8:00 am — which means, naturally, 8:15 or so. This morning I went down at 7:30 as agreed and found myself alone, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable as I feared to wait by myself. Of course, the Hilton is an exception: Americans, even American women, although the minority, are not uncommon. Dress, too, is much less strict and consistent than in the rest of Abuja. But even in wider Abuja dress is generally less rigid than I’d worried it might be — I can even wear jeans when we’re socializing, which is nice. So, tomorrow I’ll likely be waiting for a bit for the guys to get up to breakfast, as C at least is much less a morning person even than me, but it’s no issue.