Under the Tamarind Tree

A tree house in the compound of the School

Singarajah Forest...a wildlife Preserve

A piercing pain in my ears awoke me that morning.
It’s past midnight, in four hours I will be going for a trip to rural Srilanka, visiting Mrs. Bernadine Anderson’s Bridge to Peace Montessori Lunugamuvehera.
I am clueless of what to expect, i am not even sure how many hours the journey would be, But I let myself be open to the positive possibilities of the universe (My new philosophy) .

So it was with a settled mind I rush out to meet the Jeep that came to pick me at home, the pain reliever I swallowed numbing the ear ache.

The darkness slowly gave way to dawn, as we gradually left Colombo behind, speeding past the outskirts of the awaking city. Aunty Berne is her usual cheerful self, infecting us all with her enthusiasm and passion for her work.

Lyzel, Fazreen, and Thalini, all staff of LPF (the school Mrs Anderson opened Over 15yrs ago), join Aunty Barne in the chit chat, i join in every now and then. Our elderly driver, focuses all his attention on the road, never speaking unless he is spoken to, an uncommon trait in a Srilankan driver as they are known to butt into conversations of their passengers, or comment nonstop on sundry issues.

I doze off after venting on the garbage disposal issues in Colombo, I am particularly peeved about the refuse dumped in our neighborhood ,Dehiwala where I reside and my kids attend school. Fazreen and I brain storm the different possible efforts we could put in place to pressure the municipal council to take action. The solutions we come up with seem unrealistic and farfetched to me, I soon give up, not even Fazreen’s noble words, “come on Pam, change can start from us” would spark a light of enthusiasm for social change in me.

Mothering two boys while I study and cope with all the house hold chores leave me too exhausted to be noble. It occurs to me that this maybe the reason no one else has done anything about waste disposal problem in the city, most people are just too overworked to bother. We work, we earn, we shop, then produce waste we are too tired or preoccupied to dispose properly, the reality of city living.

The surreal view of the deep green forest takes my breath, as we stop for the “traditional” tea break on the Udawalawe Bridge. We spot waterfalls streaking down the hill sides in the distance, the misty horizon leave me speechless and serene, at once I feel the crisp clean air fill my lungs, only then I realize the Colombo air is congested and polluted.

We pile back into the van, refreshed and the ready for adventure, an elephant and two calves, probably from the elephant orphanage nearby linger by the water’s edge, for a while we stop and stare, in awe as always by the wild elephant’s seemingly gentle ways.

Fruit stalls built with palm fronds, stand picturesque by the road side, and we spot another elephant, this time very close to the side of the road, just behind the electrified fence put in place to stop it from wandering to the sugar cane plantations on the other side. We stop and take pictures, posing in front of the wild elephant, whose thoughts were probably “why can’t these puny creatures get me something to eat instead of staring stupidly at me?”

We move on, in a short while we reach our destination, our first stop is the derelict prefabricated quarters where the trainers stay whenever they come from Colombo, as we stretch and freshen up, i am drawn to a shelter nearby made by two tamarind trees, i wander under its wide branches, looking out for creepy crawlies. Narrow logs of wood tied together form a good bench and I sit on it sighing deeply, taking in the fresh clean air, almost immediately I feel the tension I didn’t even know I had, drain out of me.

We walk a short path to the bridge2peace Montessori, an impressive and well equipped building, three class rooms for 2 ½ to 5 year olds. One of the class rooms is for the children with special needs, today only three are in attendance, two with Down Syndrome sit and work, a heart wrenching sight knowing how much pain they suffer in remote poverty stricken regions as these
We walk among the children, accepting their greetings, smiling and watching them work. Soon they pile out for “the peace Routine”, then pose for their end of the year photos, its overwhelming to observe them, considering the providence that has brought quality education to their quiet backwater, they seem so cute and well behaved, most likely a biased impression, as only their care givers know their true temperaments.

A little later, Fazreen and I join Mrs Anderson to visit a few homes of families who have applied for the enrollment of their toddlers, but not before witnessing the sight of a mother with her three day old infant in her arms and her prematurely grey husband, who had been waiting for several hours by the school gate to speak to Mrs Anderson personally. They request for their son’s enrollment, I cringe at the thought of having to be the one to turn them down, simply because they are not poor enough to be considered. The spaces are limited, so it is important that only the “poorest of the poor” are given the opportunity to educate their children.

I am frustrated that I cannot help, I am angry at the fate that economically cripples such people, I am helpless I cannot do more. For a while my own financial challenges are suppressed with a deep desire to see the fragile little one hiding behind his mother’s frock educated in a safe and productive environment the B2P Montessori provides.

I am a bit relieved to climb back into the van and head for the home visits with Fazreen and Mrs Anderson. Mother’s with their children travel the interior regions on bicycles, unprotected from the elements and snakes, Lunugamuvehera has some of the highest snake bite reports in Srilanaka. Soon the nostalgia for such natural pollution free settings is replaced with gratitude for running water and electricity.

The homes are over three kilometers from the B2P Montessori, the realization of the distance they have to travel is very disheartening.

“ Initially they brought their children because of the free meal and the annual care package of clothes, shoes and toiletries we offer the children”, Mrs Anderson explains. "but now they see the value of the programe".

I tag along, observing the incomplete structures they live in, lost in the translation from Singhalese to English Mrs Anderson provides as she talks to them, as she tactfully finds out the information she needs to approve their applications, and listens to their tales of woe. Once again I am filled with awe and admiration for Aunty Berne’s devotion to the poor, a rare trait among the typically indifferent Colombo elite.

We return to the B2P premies, the children are closed for the day, almost all the children stop to "worship” us, a very respectful form of greeting in Srilankan culture where the younger ones bend and touch the feet of the elder, we hold them up and shake their hands, its humbling to receive such unearned respect.

Within the school premises we have returned to, is a young woman with her young daughter in a tight embrace, Aunty Berne translates to me after talking to her that she just got news that her husband died in the war front, her beautiful tear streaked face paralyzes me, I feel the image singe into my subconscious, this is a part of Srilanka I have never seen before. The poverty, the war, the deep deep sadness, invisible in the bright lights and shopping districts of urban Srilanka.

Me on BBC

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/6112706.stm

I stumbled across this, I completly forgot i sent it.

It was a pleasant surprise.....

Good news for little Abdul

Good news for the boy crawling on the the Streets of Wuse Market here in Abuja.

On the morning i was supposed to meet him with the person that sells a wheel chair, i spoke to a friend about him and she said she had already bought him the wheel chair...

needless to say he was delighted .......

Theatrical healing

Its midnight, a scowling moon looks on as bare- chest drummers beat in sync with a chorus of singers. The all-male cast of dancers clad in thin white cloth, and palm leaf fringed red cloth that hangs loose like female hair from their heads begin the performance. Well fitted bells jingle from their calves the raucous noise at once magical and thespian. The patient, diseased by insanity or ill luck, is propped on a low stool as palm leaf shrines litter the earthen arena, a lure for the various demons. These disease causing demons know as Sanni Yakku are held responsible for draught, troubled pregnancies, disease and all sorts of malignant forces that trouble man.

In the climax of the performance, holding flaming torches in both hands, the dancers leap, dive, whirl and spin, the energetic display, a necessary prelude for the main reason for the show.
Colourful and monstrous looking Masks, different ones representing each demon and the disease it causes become the ultimate transformation that allows the chief performer and exorcist to embody the demon.

Yes here, the Buddha reigns supreme yet many still belief that these demons and deities have the power to heal, by taking away the disease or problem they have caused. Specific characters and dramas have developed over the centuries to counteract almost every affliction and ailment. The terrifying expressions of the mask conjure the demon that will possess the performer cum exorcist who threatens, humors, implores, torments and bribes the demon till it departs.This dramatic dance consist of, heroes, villains, clowns and several other characters who venerate and recite the lineage and exploits of each demon. The Sanni Yakku is a group of demons who in past battles with the Buddha were banished from earth. Though they have no physical presence they still have the power to cause harm to man, so for centuries, this dance ritual has become the stage, where man meets his tormentor.


"Devil Dancing" performed by the Sinhalese of Srilanka, a small island on the coast of the Indian ocean, is an alternative system of healing, a system based on early Vedic concepts of etiology, in which diseases and ills of all sorts were believed to be caused by demons. Identified predominantly by the symptoms manifested by the patient, these demons could be summoned and exorcised in stylized ritual mask dances, called natima.

The quest to understand all the unknown forces around that inspires awe and anxiety, has lead to the need for religion, Religion is based on establishing mutual trust between the divine and human in order to secure the benevolence of the gods and their help in mastering those unknown forces. In these ritual dances, theater meets spirituality, humans appealing to the divine, seeking their goodwill. This desperate plea to demonic forces through the language of the body, will be rebuked and casted out by all new generation religions, yet for many all over the world, it is still a cultural reality. For them gods, demons and men exist in an accessible realm, and interaction, when deemed necessary is not at all uncanny.

Today, despite better understanding of "unknown forces" some still cling to the old ways. With the bastardization of traditional beliefs by foreign influence, many still turn to their local gods to find respite in times of dire need. Where modern medicine or conventional traditional medicine fails or is inaccessible, the "ungodly" option becomes the only option.
Long before the world famed religions of today, the concept of good and evil was personified in demons, gods, spirits and ancestral worship. Today most of the world’s population has been categorized into one of the four major religions, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism. So many more "isms" have being in existence and more have cropped up and continue to flourish, all religions hold promises of a better life in this world and the next.

As the newer religions flourish, the old gods perish; ancient deities are starved of attention and sacrifice. The Greek god Zeus, Athena, goddess of war, and Aphrodite goddess of love, once worshiped and placated through sacrifice have now become objects of entertainment and romantic nostalgia. Here in Nigeria, among others, Olurun and his secondary deities Orisha, and Shango the god of Thunder are shunned to the backwaters of rural communities, cults once revered as gate keepers of the gods are now branded evil human sacrificing secret societies.



Nowhere else is this more displayed than in the Nigerian movie industry, where fertility, love and financial gain are pursued devoutly through the notorious juju man. Weather it is a "Babalawo" , "Mallam" or “High priest”, the mystery behind traditional beliefs in Nigeria is shrouded in myth, misery and monetary demands. As the movie industry continuous to state the obvious, dramatically emphasizing the need to be closer to God in other to avoid the effects of evil, in the real world, desperate people search for solutions where ever they can find it, even if it means appeasing the Devil.

Its all too easy to push this rituals away to the remote places of the mind, or file them neatly in the 'ungodly' category, however, a closer look by a rational mind will bring to light certain facts that will bring insight on these obscure ways of doing things, fear or sheer intellectual lethargy must not stop us from peering into the darkness, albeit from a safe distance. Ignorance is indeed the darkest of all evils.
Approaching this subject with an open mind, the fascination of cultural similarities from one continent and another is unearthed in this revelation of theatrical healing. When dance and drama is performed not just to entertain or educate the community, but to placate spirits and gods, performance art is taken to a whole new level. Dance, the ultimate form of physical expression, accompanied by rhythm and awe inspired crowds, takes on a magical and ethno-religous aura.
Masquerade dancers are a feature of religious societies in many areas in the world. Four main types of masquerades are identified by the roles they play: those who embody deities or nature spirits and to whom sacrifice is made to assure the fertility of land and people, those who embody the ancestral spirits, those who placate the spirits through their dance, and those who perform principally as entertainers.
Here in Nigeria, the Bori cult of the Hausa, and the Ajun Cult of the Jukun, perform very similar dance rituals to appease spirits. Though in the case of the Bori, a state of trance is entered by the dancer, who is usually a member of the Cult. It is believed that disease and bad luck are caused by specific spirits called "Bori". So accompanied by rhythmic drum beats the possessed dancer becomes a medium for the demon to speak his mind. In the demons own voice, the cure and cause of the disease is revealed. A cure usually requires animal sacrifice and the patient is expected to join the cult. The patient is kept under care of a cult member for a period of time, until the dance ceremony where the culmination of the healing process takes place.

The Jukun whose elders deal with hysterical disorders in women by exorcising evil spirits in initiation ceremonies also use rhythm and dance. During a three-month period in a house shrine, the sufferer is taught songs and dances that have a therapeutic function culminating in a ceremony in which the initiate publicly joins the members of the society to perform the Ajun-Kpa dance.
From the distant coasts of Srilanka, to the northern regions of Nigeria these stylized ritual dance dramas, based on myth and religion and the desire for the physical well being of man, intertwine in this primordial performance of gods, demons and men.

NIGERIAN MUSUEMS

Teracotta sculpture of hand holding Akoko, a symbolic tree in western Nigeria

Brian surgery by traditional Doctors

A rusty silence echoes loudly in these empty halls of historic memorabilia, the archaic objects that reveal details of times past unfutunately remain of limited intreast to most Nigerians. Perharps the intellectual battles fought internationally for the protection of our cultural heritage will also continue to be in the restricted beaureuacratic boundries of foreign policy and academic analysis.

But then again, perharps it might not, especially if the Nigerians near obssesive intreast in politics and sports is eased with the sublime benefits of our aboundant cultural history, especially the visually stimulating creations of our forbears.

Theft of antique arts and crafts, African or otherwise has always existed since the commencement of imperialism, so it does not come as a surprise that much of our cultural heritage is gradually losing its context, the gradual erosion of facts as artifacts travel from smuggler to one owner to another is the unavoidable reality of such stolen works.

The western world that once viewed African art as backward and barbaric have since changed their tune, recognising the significant contibution of African Art to humanity. Unfortunately many Nigerians have not yet changed their views, as comptemporary art struggles to gain its rightful place in the hierachy of relevance in the budgets of individuals and government, the archaic pieces of histroy have even less of a chance of surviving this cultural annihilation.

Unlike Picasso, who was once insipred to paint Les Demoiselles d’Avignon when he saw African masks, heralding an influencial art movement – cubism, inspiration is the last thing many Nigerians experience when viewing, (if ever they do) the seemingly unappealing images of antiques. The infrequent visits to musuems show the less than enthusiastic intreast in our artistic and cultural history, not to mention the general opinion on, what the west consider cultural treasures, which many here have rejected as fetish, backward, ungodly or simply too gross.

A flicker of hope lies in the latest trend of originality in the entertianment and fashion industry, if the youthful exhuberance that have taken these sectors by storm engulf our Musuems and other National Monuments, perharps it will become “cool” to visit a musuem or other places of historic relevance.

The resulting hype may bring the attention of private investors and local leaders to the problems of these crumbling structures. Untill art and history becomes acessible to all, it will never flourish solely in the hands of die-hard intellectualls and eccentric artists. One of the most essential aspects of tourism, is the reverantial display of our cultural history and artistic legacy, many of us tend to pay only lip service to our “rich cultural heritage”.

So, lets assume charity begins at home, genuine intreasts in the presevation of our cultural identity can be as simple as visiting a musuem, and most importantly respecting the archaic works that may appear worn and unappealing. Afterall, recent research has revealed that many types of African visual art have messeges that transcend mere aesthetic appeal.

Although certain native objects have been created with the specific purpose of selling them to interested foreign parties many were not made to end up in a museum or a private collection but to serve a ritual or utilitarian purpose in a traditional setting.

Native objects convey an ethnopharmacological message by embodying the diversified and ingenious ways in which mankind has applied natural resources in its daily struggle for survival and in its quest for religious experiences.

In this way, the objects can do much to inform and please spectators. Just as the Nok terracotta sculptures reveal the early leap of our ancestors from the stone age to iron age, many other antiques unattractive they may seem to the typical person, hold secrets to times past, if only we will listen to the silent whispers of aged wisdom.

All that Glitters is not gold,
All that is tarnished must not be sold.

Lost Legacy of Dr Ladikwali

An echo of soundless abandon, embraces any visitor to the Ladi Kwali pottery Suleja. This small town, that had once been tranquil and in Michael Cardew’s own words “inspiring”, is now replaced by the urban chaos of noisy traffic and residential congestion. The ambiance which had motivated Michael Cardew a British potter employed by the

Nigerian colonial government to choose this place as the location for a pottery training center in 1951, is sadly unseen in the dilapidated buildings and dusty wares, haphazardly placed on conked out shelves.

The center will be fifty five years old this year, though the modern structures there were built in 1973, it was in 1951 that Michael Cardew with the permission and help of the local authorities supervised the building of the training center using local and labor materials.





Suleja, located not far from the well-known Zuma rock, lies between the boundaries of Abuja, Nigeria’s capital city and Niger state. The story of the pottery began in 1950 when there was a perceived need for a homegrown industry that would supply the Nigerian middle class with glazed table ware, suitable for European style meals and hot drinks. The Nigerian pots made according to a traditional method practiced for centuries are distinguished by its nobility and simplicity, but they still lacked “practical” use for a European life style. So, with great admiration for local village pottery, Michael began elaborate research in a bid to find strategic locations for what would become small experimental work stations with a small number of trainees. Trainees were expected to go and start their own centers after fine-tuning their skills, thereby creating a network of trained potters for the rural native pottery industry.

When it came to selecting trainees, whom Michael envisaged to be mainly men, he found that Nigerian potters were mostly female. This was the case especially in Abuja’s Gwari population were he found outstandingly talented women potters. He discovered Ladi, who comes from Kwali, now a municipal area council in the F.C.T, fascinated by her work he convinced her to join him at the center. Michael found her basic skill and genius expounding and he was delighted when she finally joined him in 1954.

Ladi traveled widely, demonstrating Gwari –pot building techniques, later she was awarded an honorary Doctorate of Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, an unprecedented academic distinction for a woman potter without formal education.
This artistic partnership brought the Abuja pottery industry on the international ceramic world map. Even today, Ladi Kwali’s tableware and hand built pots are considered collector’s items, still auctioned on the internet and saved as museum pieces. Despite his aged and ailing body Michael Cardew and some other British officers worked hard to ensure that Nigerian art and history were appreciated and preserved for the public. His colleagues included Bernard Fagg, who excavated the Nok culture and started the Jos museum.

Even though the Abuja pottery training center never fulfilled the early aim of spreading a network of potters thereby improving the rural pottery industry, It still stands today as a reminder of his passion and devotion for the Nigerian people and their environment. That is why it is so saddening to see the level of dilapidation that has occurred due to negligence by those responsible for maintaining this piece of our nation’s history. By the late fifties the center had become a show piece celebrated in Nigeria and abroad, now it is gradually being reduced to a bundle of rubble, totally ignored by the Nigerian elite and attracting only a handful of curious foreign visitors.

Nigerians as a people are proud of their nation’s culture and art, if all the noise that is made about “celebrating culture” is to be believed. That is why it comes as a shock that a historical location like this, which is just at the door step of our Nation’s capital, has been left to rot, literary speaking. One can only imagine the extent other historical and cultural heritage sites in remote parts of the country would look like. When we neglect to remind ourselves of the inherent talent and creativity of our people by maintaining such structures, soon time will erode all memories of our greatness and achievements. All that will be left of ours will be a shallow display of song and dance staged to gloss over the harsh reality that we are a people with a fading history and withering culture.


The 64 year old Michael Cardew left Nigeria reluctantly to return to his home in Cornwall England, he continued to assist Ladi Kwali, helping with her 1972 exhibition in the United States. Michael died suddenly in 1983 after his active and international life style. In an uncanny coincidence Ladi died about the same time in Minna though she was tragically, still, very young





The Ladi Kwali pottery stands in broken ruins, a heart breaking reminder of Nigeria’s maintenance culture. The four separate buildings that make up the center are surrounded by a broken down wall, further emphasizing the derelict atmosphere. The main hall where some of the best art work used to be exhibited is vacant except for a few colorful but chipped ceramic decors displayed neatly in a small corner of the badly stained wall. This building in comparison to the other three is still in very fine condition, the red brick walls are still standing firmly under the watchful eyes of the still images of Michael and Ladi hanging high up on the wall. Looking up at the determined eyes of these two passionate and creative minds, one is embittered by the condition of what they had sacrificed so much to bring to life. They tried to construct a center of inspiration and productivity, a place where modernization meets tradition in a reverential blend of artistic collaboration. What is now left of their efforts are moldy walls and cobwebbed corners of wasted space.

It’s heart breaking to walk past the broken glass panes that are the windows and doors of the other three buildings. The building on the left side of the compound which is by far the most dilapidated accommodates the potter’s wheels that sit unused, waiting for the generous spirit that would put the necessary pressure on government, and ensures that the center can come alive again. In this same building, Looking up one is greeted by the huge yawning ceiling that allows the rain to pour in further damaging the interior of the already spoilt building.



It is understandable that the harsh economic realities of today may make it difficult to maintain the buildings, and it may even be impractical to expect that the place can still be used as a training center, due to the urbanization of the area. However, it is unforgivable that no one has put significant effort in preserving that piece of Nigeria’s history in a manner that would be presentable to the younger generation.
Is it surprising then, that the young of today would rather embrace the widely televised culture of the western world? They should not be blamed for embracing the ostentatious display of competence and accomplishment they perceive from outside the shores of our country. The cultural inferiority complex that exist today in the minds of the young and old will continue to eat into our nations pride, until one day I fear, there would be nothing to be proud of.





Originally published in Sunday ThisDay on August 27th,2006

Nike Gallery Abuja

Sustained by Passion

Behind the craggy façade of a mucky village, lies a beautiful sanctuary for Nigerian artistic history and contemporary way of life. The eroded thoroughfare that leads into the village of Piwoyi belies the precious jewel that is the Nike Center for Art and Culture, Abuja. Located along the express way to the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport, Oshobo art meets the Abuja pottery heritage in a reverential blend of visual art and architecture.

Opened in 1992, on government allocated land, the Center is indeed an oasis for art lovers and African culture enthusiasts. A spacious gallery displaying contemporary Nigerian art in different media, all in a colorful array of beads, thread, pen and paint are sure to appeal to all, even the non-art aficionados. Works in Abstract and portraiture are well represented in this ingenious collection of the old, the new, the bold and the beautiful. Hand made designed cotton, popularly known as Adire, Tie and dye and of course Batik, is arranged neatly in another corner of the room, beside antique woven cloth, ‘ashoke’ and hand made bead necklaces.

No where else in Abuja can one find textile art along side painting, drummers and dancers. The Nike center for Arts and Culture Abuja, like its other centers in Lagos, Oshobgo and Ogidi, gives artist and craftsmen the opportunity to practice their trade and instruct others who are willing to learn and explore “a culture that has flourished in Western Nigeria for over a thousand years”.
According to the curator of the gallery, Mr. Sunday Oladele the center is receiving very little attention from the Abuja public, only a few visitors trickle in; patronage is mainly from the expatriate community. Even the level of artistic activities are streamlined due to lack of patronage, carving, metal work, weaving and embroidery are not done here at the Abuja center as in the others.
The inventively molded dye pits are the only indication of textile art still done at the center. Presently, the center is training about ten young individuals in a variety of artistic skills, another legacy from the proprietor, Chief (Mrs.) Nike Davis Okundaye. Mrs. Davis has devoted her life to promoting African art and artistes. Using her talent as an artist and up to date marketing skills, she has been able to enhance the personal and economic well-being of the center’s Artistes.
On reaching the center, you are sure to be enthralled by the energetic young performers who welcome visitors with a rhythmic vernacular, “Ekabo, Ekabo”. Not minding the scanty and unanticipated audience, they bring out drums, and perform continually, singing and dancing in sonorous Yoruba dialect, an authentic sound track for the walk through the gallery and its vicinity. The ethnic flavor of the experience pulls you into another world. The view of lush hills from outside the centers arty structural design is bound to leave you refreshed, revitalizing the mind. A visit to the Nike Center for Art and Culture, Abuja is a soothing balm to the tired senses of a busy work week.

Weather you are there to the buy art work on display or clothes with original African designs, you are sure to leave there with the resounding thought that the people behind this creation are purely motivated by their passion for the arts. The smiling faces of the dancers as they wave good bye, will cause you to contemplate on the level of commitment they have to something with so little financial gain. In a world like ours, where people don’t even sneeze unless money is going to come out of their nose, it’s so uplifting to see such enthusiasm for art, culture and tradition.

FINDING EDEN

In times like these, when many have lost faith in the Nigerian system, when political uncertainty and economic malaise plaque our Nation, two remarkable individuals have devoted their life to working with a rural community, providing them with opportunities to help themselves.


Through farming and food processing, Hope Eden Farm situated in Kuje Municipal Area Council Abuja provides a unique prospect for commerce and community development. An Agro-tourist concept of guest houses built based on the African “bush” hut model allow for visitors who wish to experience a traditional Nigerian homestead.


The road leading into Kuje, branching off the airport highway gradually unveils a lush view of Abuja’s characteristic crystaline hills. The eight kilometer trip to Hope Eden Farm, takes you down a part of Abuja that has been unaffected by the growing development and infrastructural changes taking place in other parts of town. Gwari women with loads on the back of their necks and nomadic Fulani’s graze their cows wearing a look of times unchanged by time or tide. A left turn away from the Kuje town will lead straight into a bumpy latrite road. The journey from here is not for the feeble minded.

Only the truly adventurous will continue down the mostly uninhabited road leading further into thicker greenery, now turned brown from the dry weather. Hopefully the spectacular view of the landscape will be a refreshing change from the concrete jungle all city residents are accustomed to, a potent distraction from the bumpy ride that travels unevenly into the entrance of Hope Eden Farm.


An ocaassional villager can be spotted, riding on a motorbike or walking to and from their farms. Small groups of women may be sighted gathered near creeks doing their laundry, but the scenery remains welcoming, like the warm embrace of a long lost lover, the luxuriantly carpeted hills kiss the sky, peeking through at the intrusion of passersby. This mostly unexplored part of Abuja has been designated for farming by the Abuja Geographical Information System. Several signboards declare boldly the owners of the different portions of land, but very little of the land is actually in use.

Shortly after passing Dafara Village juntion a small sign that says “welcome to Hope Eden Farm” mentions the end of the trip. A dirt-road snakes into the compound, a few houses built in no apparent order reveal the reality of several inhabitants. A serenading silence, shrouded by nature’s gifts of blossoming trees and wild flowers, reverberate the heart, whispering sweet promises of seclusion and relief from life’s troubling turmoil. The experience is even more delightful after meeting the initiators and owners of Hope Eden Farms, their hospitality and warmth is sure to relax the tensest of muscles, no matter where it is located.

Annegret and Shiekar Kumbur, an extraordinary couple spends most of their time, grappling with weather changes, fertilizer and herbicide scarcity, water and power generation shortages, produce preservation and a multitude of other challenges facing large scale farmers in Nigeria. Alongside all this work, they find time and other resources to support financially and morally, some children from underprivileged backgrounds they have taken responsibility for.


Motivated by the desire to provide employment for themselves and others, Annegret and Shiekar began to work on Hope-Eden Farm in 1998, with the clear objective of growing produce that can be sold to the growing population of the capital city. Determined to provide gainful employment for the multitude of youths they come in contact with, they work on the farm, pushing ahead despite all odds.

For Mr. Shiekar Kumbur, proving employment for youths, educated or not , is a matter of national security. He believes when the young are gainfully employed they are less likely to get into trouble. The farm for him is an opportunity for individual personality growth for the young and community development for the village. The Gwari, Fulani and Hausa villagers living in this remote village get an opportunity to earn a living as well as learn better agricultural methods.


The challenges are numerous, unavailability of low interest loans to allow for mechanization and importation of essential chemicals like fertilizer and herbicides make farming increasingly difficult. “This year we could not cultivate rice because the herbicide importers were stuck in some bureaucratic bottle neck” Shiekar laments.

High cost of diesel makes power generation prohibitive. For Annegret, working on the farm allows her to work closely with the rural communities, allowing her to contribute positively to their lives. Study sessions for the young children in this remote village has begun on the farm, giving the inhabitants of this inaccessible corner of Abuja a chance at high quality basic education. Working with volunteers from Germany, Holland and other parts of the world, the children of farmers and laborers will get a chance to improve their reading and writing abilities. Depending on availability of resources and manpower, Annegret a nurse by training, hopes to begin a primary health clinic, providing nutrition education and emergency care for expecting mothers. “Many pregnant women are dying in the villages because they can not afford to go to the hospital on time.” Annegret’s concern shows in her visibly troubled expression.


The name Hope Eden was inspired by the desire to create a place of clam and beauty, a setting for productivity and positivity. Annegret foresees a “place of peace and togetherness”. These are not ideals of someone who is not aware of the harsh realities in our time. “Because we live in a broken would, we are trying to build something to remind us of Gods intention for us,” Hence the name Hope Eden.
Shiekar admits that, their efforts are like a “drop in and ocean”, compared to all the challenges that rural dwellers are facing; their attempts of community development are like the faith process of planting a mustard seed.
Using solar energy and natural materials to build their homes, the remarkable duo have blended the best of traditional African Architecture with all the western conveniences, creating an exceptional model for promoting food security and encouraging recreational facilities in a natural and secluded surroundings.
If only we had more people like them, who believed in putting their money where their heart is, investing in a country they love, making a difference one tin of home made peanut butter, passion fruit jam and groundnut oil bottle at a time. It may not quite be Eden, but it certainly is giving hope to many.

Michael's Dream

“I would hate to be a lawyer,
I would hate to be a doctor, all I want to be…… is a potter.”
Michael Cardew 1958 at the Abuja (now Suleja) Pottery


Reverberating words of passion and devotion remain long after the man who utters them is gone. This is especially so, when these expressions are followed by actions that reveal a tireless dedication to a vocation that is not known to have much monetary gain. Michael Cardew (1901-1983), a pioneering British potter spent most of his life in the tedious routine of, mixing clay, throwing, molding, firing and glazing earthenware products, many of which are still used all over the world today. Though now they are more valued as a collectors pride than for utility purposes.
From the cold damp weather in Britain to the dusty hot climate of western Africa, Michael traveled to many parts of the world exhibiting his work, promoting and sharing his passion for traditional English earthenware; he has influenced many potters in America, Australia and of course Britain, his efforts put the Abuja Pottery industry on the ceramic world map, promoting the traditional pottery of the Gwari women whom he found particularly talented.

All in pursuit of his ardor for pottery he spent a lot of time in western Africa, leaving behind his family and his newly established pottery in Wenford Bridge Cornwall, he was enamored by the traditional abilities of African potters and with such reverence for their work, he tried with the permission of the locals and colonial administration to introduce the studio approach to pottery making which was previously not practiced in western Africa. His wrinkled image still stands today on the cobwebbed wall of fame in the Ladi Kwali Pottery in Suleja, a small town in the outskirts of the Federal Capital of Nigeria, his passion still echoes down the derelict halls of the neglected pottery, stirring up a disconcerting awareness that all his efforts has resulted to naught.

Closer investigation will reveal however, that Michael Cardew and his successor Michael O’Brien did not labor in vain, their efforts has changed the face of traditional Nigerian pottery, leaving behind a small group of talented studio potters who continue to battle the elements of water, clay and fire not to mention the classic “Nigerian factor”.


Michael who came from a respectable middle class British family background shunned a scholarship and a life in academics to pursue his passion for pottery. From the age of twenty-two, he began spending most of his holidays making pottery, Michael’s life long romance with the wheel and Kiln began, Inspired as a child by his parent’s collection of lead glazed earthenware pots in their holiday home at Devon.
Early in his career Michael worked with Bernard leach, these two are described by many experts as the leading potters of the twentieth century, particularly in Western Europe. This is why his work with many potters in Nigeria can hardly go unnoticed, considering the fact that his activities transformed the Nigerian pottery industry.
Potteries established by many people he trained are still sprinkled all over northern Nigeria, providing handmade ceramic products that would have been otherwise imported.

Graduating with a third class degree in humanities, he left his academic pursuits behind chasing whole heartedly a life as a potter, a life of “holy poverty”. Michael’s fervor for traditional English earthenware has lead to a revolution in Nigeria’s traditional pottery industry. There’s rarely a potter especially in northern Nigeria who has not been influenced My Michael Cardew and his Successor Michael Seamus O’Brien, Two unrelenting individuals who have left much more than their palm-prints on the sands of Nigerian ceramic history.

Michael's Career in West Africa began in 1938, when he was offered a job to teach in Achimote College Gold coast (now Ghana); here he was expected to make available locally produced pottery for war time supplies. Using his own money he set up the Vume pottery working with Clement Kofi Athey, whom he left behind to run the pottery when he got a posting in Nigeria in 1947. Michael Cardew was appointed the senior pottery officer by the Nigerian colonial government who also saw the need for an upgrade of the traditional pottery industry. Working with other expatriates he set up potteries at Okigwe and Ado-Akiti. After much research, he decided Abuja, Now Suleja to be the Perfect location for the northern region pottery training center.
When Choosing trainees for the pottery in Northern Nigeria, the talented Gwari women could not be left out, even though it was impractical for most of the women to adapt to the studio style of pottery making, Ladi From Kwali succeeded in joining Michael’s team of trainees and together they toured America, London and Canada showcasing traditional Gwari methods of pottery making. Ladi’s pots are in museums today with its unique designs and hand built balanced well rounded body that sits on its base. Its form is complimented by the characteristic mottled black and brown surface. The decorative designs of many different animals and insects – lizards, scorpions, fish and snakes – are particularly finely drawn. The collectors Value for her work remains especially due to the blending of traditional Gwari forms and imagery with a high-fired glazed stoneware body.

Ladi Died in 1984 leaving behind a legacy that has by far out lasted her time. Michael Cardew left Nigeria to return to England in 1965 he latter died in 1983, but his work in promoting appreciation for traditional Nigerian pottery continued with Michael O’Brien, Cardew’s immediate successor. O’Brien Continued to train potters one of whom is Danlami Aliyu. Together they set up the Al Habib Pottery in Minna. Today Danlami Aliyu’s international and local recognition places him currently as Nigeria’s most talented potter. He of course does not make the traditional low fired pots commonly used in Nigerian homes for flower pots in the urban areas and for water storage in the rural areas. These types of pots are still made in the rural areas all over Nigeria. Here in Abuja Gwari women continue their pottery heritage, many of which can be bought at different locations all over the city. Danlami and many other contemporary Nigerian potters like Steven Myha of the Bwari Pottery continue the reverential blend of traditional designs and elaborate fine glazed finishing that holds an appeal which depreciated the value of mass produced ceramic wares.


The hand-made locally produced pottery varies in prices, from as little as two hundred and fifty naira to as high as two hundred and fifty thousand naira. The question however that lingers is -where is our modern day Ladi Kwali? How is it that of the hundreds of women potters all over northern Nigeria, not one has emerged into the lime light, opening her own pottery like the Jacaranda and Maraba potteries in Kaduna and the Bwari pottery here in Abuja. Once again, by omission and commission women have been left behind in this sweeping evolution of craft and lifestyle.

But one thing is for sure, Michael’s dream has come true, the Oriental-European style of pottery has flourished in Western Africa, perhaps when the endangered Nigerian traditional pottery industry finally dies due to lack of interest by the Nigerian Elite, all that will remain will be the fruits of labor planted by Michael Cardew and others like him, who dare to dream and give every thing they have to bring beauty into our lives.