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The word Akara is
so soft yet so seductively broken on the back of that letter ‘k’ that
as it is spoken, you can visualise and hear the squish and subtle chew;
the compression of air through the pores of warm, crisp, freshly fried
bean fritters.

I have been
fascinated with Akara ever since I was told that infamous, cruel,
outrageous “Ajapa” story about Akara and honey as a child. The story is
in fact so disgusting that I cannot repeat the details in a food
column. Suffice it to say that Ajapa, the wily tortoise understood
keenly that any artillery of wickedness and deception is not complete
without knowing how to cook at least one dish to evil distraction.

His forte, Akara and honey, the very idea of it, has made my mouth water like mad for close to forty years.

With it he
conquered two adversaries; a vain swaggering elephant, and an inflated
ambitious chimpanzee. In reality, there is nothing like Akara and
honey, nothing like Akara which behaves in the way that a jam doughnut
does; a fried ball of dough that oozes some sweet suspension hidden
inside.

Honeyed Akara is a
magical ideal, not only one that appeals to children in the way that
sweet things in children’s books or stories uncompromisingly do; like
that swelling bonbon in Enid Blyton’s land on the faraway tree that
eventually explodes in the mouth releasing an elixir sweet and warm.
Akara and honey is our cultural pregnant bonbon because there is no
Nigerian child that cannot relate to fried Akara and honey. It is a
challenge that well made Akara should be as sweet as honey. Not
literally, but the type of sweetness that the Yoruba for example use to
define/symbolise everything from existence to painful childbirth.

Anyone in my
generation can recall the suspense in the words “Tortoise went home to
prepare some akara into which he added some fresh honey…he placed it
just outside [the lion’s] door and left to hide behind a tree. The
Akara was warm and its aroma hung in the air …[lion] picked one ball
of Akara and ate it and this Akara was sweeter than any Akara he had
ever eaten before. He ate another one, and then another one until all
the Akara was gone.” Back to reality where Saturday morning Akara
always falls short because it is too predictable, because it is
relegated to being simply accompaniment to something, to ogi or Quaker
oats, or moin moin, because there is no flamboyant engineering of
Umami, no twist, no possibility of a daring collision of savoury and
opinionated sweetness, …like Mama Rose’s sweet puff puffs defiantly
eaten with stewed red kidney beans… When I think of tortoise’s
Akara’s, I think, well why not?

Why must it always be the same peeled beans blended with water, same chopped onions, salt, pepper; basic, savoury, flat?

So, last Saturday morning, I put my peeled beans in a blender,

along with two
small leeks, because the smell of leeks always remind me of cooking
beans, and because leeks are my favourite vegetables for adding full
rounded flavours to food. I added some garlic and ginger and sea salt,
hot chillies and some coconut cream. In the past, I had successfully
added a large tablespoon of Tahini, sesame seed paste to my blended
beans. But last Saturday, all I had was some almond butter, so a
tablespoon of that went in instead. Then two egg yolks and some dried
Cameroonian pepper. Everything was blended with water until I had a
thick pouring consistency that coated my spoon. If I had had some
coconut oil, it would have been fried in that, but all I had was some
dull vegetable oil. And so, the shallow frying began; the therapeutic
ladling of imperfect circles into hot oil. The Akara is a strange
creature, and I hope someday someone with a scientific mind will
explain why it guzzles so much oil, and then does something to the oil
left in the pan that makes it lazy. After the first two to three sets
of Akara, my oil lost its elasticity, and the Akara spread sideways
into pancakes instead of rising into plump bellies. I was compelled to
add more and more fresh oil, all the time dreading where it would all
go, congealing and layering in the human anatomy.

As my frying, progressed, I began to wish I had some shrimp to attempt a tempura with my blended beans.

What would an Akara concealing a whole shrimp taste like? Would it work?

Is the mixture too laid-back to work?

I altered the
batches, because my palate always becomes bored after eating a few
Akara that taste the same, better if some of them blow your head off,
and some are gentle, and some are slightly more garlicky, and some have
hidden green peppers, and some are fried in palm oil and some in plain, and some eaten dipped in mayonnaise and some in pure unadulterated, tested with fire honey.

At the funeral,
last year, of a friend in his forties who died from ill-health, one of
his mourners noted in an aside to his circle of friends, the ‘awon
boys,’ that “hmmm, spousal support, o wa important!” They listened and
nodded but did not give it much thought.

The man was divorced. “Eh hen? So?”

The man was living alone. “What is so hard about that?”

The man did not look after himself. “He is in good company!”

Yet, over the course of the year, the term ‘spousal support’ has been brought to my notice again and again.

For lawyers,
spousal support is court-ordered support from one partner to the other
during a separation or after a divorce. Although the mourner was a
lawyer, it was evident he was not referring to the law. At heart, he
meant the care given by one spouse to another. He meant the
demonstration of concern during times of tribulation and anxiety. He
meant the vigilance of a partner when they notice small signs that all
may not be well. He meant insistence and harassment to see a doctor
about little symptoms like that persistent headache, or prolonged
fatigue. He meant that pep talk to lift the spirits of a dejected or
beaten down companion. He meant that listening ear and wise voice to
give advice and suggestions when prospects are looking bleak. He meant
the cheerleader who gives the player the courage to take bold steps and
take calculated risks, confident that there is someone who ‘has their
back’. He meant the person that you can break down crying with and who
will never refer to it again or treat you disrespectfully as a result.
He meant spousal support.

Thinking about it,
it seems like common sense and very logical. Yet, many of us lack it
and many of us fail to give it. We receive ‘spousal support’ as
children from our parents. As teenagers, we get it from our best
friends. As adults, the source can be from family members, mentors,
close colleagues, business partners and associates in general; or from
that family doctor who has known you since you were small and calls
periodically to check up on you. We like to name it ‘human feeling.’
Yes, those fortunate amongst us have received a form of it all our
lives; but how many of us are conscious of giving that emotional
support and succour to others in turn.

A listening ear

In our traditional
cultures, elderly people refer to living alone without ‘spousal support
‘as living ‘like a witch’ whom everyone avoids in fear for their
wellbeing! It is all right to live alone by choice for independence,
self-suffiency, and privacy; but it is not okay to live alone because
there is no one who cares enough about you to either stay with you, or
to invite you to stay with them. Our late friend fell into that
category. How did it happen? If this support is so crucial at the level
of couples, imagine the impact of the lack of it on a group, and even
wider to a network, a party, a people, a nation.

How do we show that
we care about the welfare of others, for our circle, for our network,
and the welfare of the state? Do we even show care for the state in the
spirit of spousal support? How have we demonstrated concern during
times of tribulation and national anxiety? Are we vigilant – looking
out for the small signs that all may not be well? Are we insistent on
seeking solutions to identified ills? From reports of progress in the
court, of seemingly clear cut cases of corruption that start off well
and trickle to nothing. I think we do well in giving ourselves pep
talks to lift our spirits. We invest a lot in items and events to make
us feel good about ourselves.

The presidential advisory committee seems like a good source of a
listening ear and wise voice to the president, if it is able to play
that role; but do governors and councilmen have similar people or
bodies to give them advice to the benefit of our lives and in the
interests of our nation? We have cheerleaders galore to urge each other
to take extravagant steps and make big promises that mostly do not pan
out. And when the chips are down, or the political appointment is over,
who ‘has our back.’ Former politicians are the first to tell you that
it is really lonely out there. Everyone disappears. We need to give
each other spousal support so that we do not die unnecessarily when a
little intervention, a little attention, and a little care can keep us
alive on the way to recovery.

The waterfall of leaks on Afghanistan underlines the awful truth: We’re not in control.

Not since Theseus fought the Minotaur in his maze has a fight been so confounding.

The more we try to
do for our foreign protectorates, the more angry they get about what we
try to do. As Congress passed $59 billion in additional war funding on
Tuesday, not only are our wards not grateful, they’re disdainful.

Washington gave the
Wall Street banks billions, and, in return, they stabbed us in the
back, handing out a fortune in bonuses to the grifters who almost
wrecked our economy.

Washington gave the
Pakistanis billions, and, in return, they stabbed us in the back,
pledging to fight the militants even as they secretly help the
militants.

We keep getting played by people who are playing both sides.

Robert Gibbs
recalled that President Barack Obama said last year that “we will not
and cannot provide a blank check” to Pakistan.

But only last week,
Secretary of State Hillary Clinton arrived in Pakistan to hand over a
juicy check: $500 million in aid to the country that’s been getting a
billion a year for most of this decade and in 2009 was pledged another
$7.5 billion for the next five. She vowed to banish the “legacy of
suspicion” and show that “there is so much we can accomplish together
as partners joined in common cause.” Gibbs argued that the deluge of
depressing war documents from the whistle-blower website WikiLeaks,
reported by The New York Times and others, was old. But it reflected
one chilling fact: The Taliban has been getting better and better every
year of the insurgency. So why will 30,000 more troops help?

We invaded two
countries, and allied with a third – all renowned as masters at
double-dealing. And, now lured into their mazes, we still don’t have
the foggiest idea, shrouded in the fog of wars, how these cultures
work. Before we went into Iraq and Afghanistan, both places were famous
for warrior cultures.

And, indeed, their insurgents are world class.

But whenever
America tries to train security forces in Iraq and Afghanistan so that
we can leave behind a somewhat stable country, it’s positively
Sisyphean. It takes eons longer than our officials predict. The forces
we train turn against us or go over to the other side or cut and run.
If we give them a maximum security prison, as we recently did in Iraq,
making a big show of handing over the key, the imprisoned al-Qaida
militants are suddenly allowed to escape.

The British Empire
prided itself on discovering warrior races in places it conquered –
Gurkhas, Sikhs, Pathans, as the Brits called Pashtuns. But why are they
warrior cultures only until we need them to be warriors on our side?
Then they’re untrainably lame, even when we spend $25 billion on
building up the Afghan military and the National Police Force, dubbed
“the gang that couldn’t shoot straight” by Newsweek.

Maybe we just can’t train them to fight against each other.

But why can’t
countries that produce fierce insurgencies produce good-standing armies
in a reasonable amount of time? Is it just that insurgencies can be
more indiscriminate?

Things are so bad
that Robert Blackwill, who was on W.’s national security team, wrote in
Politico that the Obama administration should just admit failure and
turn over the Pashtun South to the Taliban since it will inevitably
control it anyway. He said that the administration doesn’t appreciate
the extent to which this is a Pashtun nationalist uprising.

We keep hearing
that the last decade of war, where we pour in gazillions to build up
Iraq and Afghanistan even as our own economy sputters, has weakened
al-Qaida.

But at his
confirmation hearing on Tuesday before the Senate Armed Services
Committee, Gen. James Mattis, who is slated to replace Gen.

David Petraus, warned that al-Qaida and its demon spawn represent a stark danger all over the Middle East and Central Asia.

While we’re
anchored in Afghanistan, the al-Qaida network could roil Yemen “to the
breaking point,” as Mattis put it in written testimony.

Pakistan’s tribal
areas “remain the greatest danger as these are strategic footholds for
al-Qaida and its senior leaders, including Osama bin Laden and Ayman
al-Zawahiri,” the blunt four-star general wrote, adding that they
“remain key to extremists’ efforts to rally Muslim resistance
worldwide.” Mattis told John McCain that we’re not leaving Afghanistan;
we’re starting “a process of transition to the Afghan forces.” But that
process never seems to get past the starting point.

During the debate
over war funds Tuesday, Rep. James McGovern, D-Mass., warned that we
are in a monstrous maze without the ball of string to find our way out.

“All of the puzzle
has been put together, and it is not a pretty picture,” he told The
Times’ Carl Hulse. “Things are really ugly over there.”

© 2010 New York Times News Service

Five years ago
policemen killed six young Nigerians in the Gimbiya Street area of
Abuja. Up until today, no one has been jailed for their murder.

Shortly before the
start of the World Cup, five staffers at this newspaper left the office
late in the night and were on their way to their places of abode in the
same car. At Ikeja they were stopped by some men of the Nigeria Police
and asked the usual questions. “Who are you?” “Where are you coming
from?” “Where are you going?” “Let us see your papers.” While all their
papers were in order, and their explanations checked out, the policemen
insisted on having them get out of the vehicle, and doing a thorough
search of the car for contraband. Despite not finding anything, the
policemen insisted on going further, and were at that point politely
reminded that they had reached the limits of their jurisdiction. There
and then they became threatening and actually accused one of the
journalists of public disorder for daring to remind them that he has
rights. For some reason (maybe because they were dealing with people
who can make some noise), the journalists were let go.

Imagine if this had happened with an ordinary citizen, at that time of night.

Two days ago, a
policeman killed someone in the Egbeda area of Lagos; over N50 ($0.33)!
You see, the late Kareem like the NEXT journalists from over a month
ago was fed up with routine harassment by the police, and decided not
to give heed to their daily extortion. He died for his impertinence.
People responded and there was a riot. The murderous policeman was
beaten up by the crowd and eventually rescued by his mates who somehow
found 200 of their number to deploy to protect a murderer! Where were
the 200 policemen when Bayo Ohu was murdered close to that area not too
long ago?

You see, one of the big problems we have around these parts is in the very structure of the police- over-centralization.

How does a police
force gather the intel and general community knowledge it requires to
do actual detective work and preempt problems if it is by default seen
as an outside force, and its members are “strangers” to the community,
often not even speaking the local languages. It is very wrong-headed
from the point of results. Of course it looks pretty on paper,

from a “federal character-oriented” and “detribalised Nigeria” point of view.

The solution to the
problems of policing in Nigeria (of many of our problems actually) can
only be solved by community policing. Bringing someone who has lived
all his life in Agbara to suddenly come and start solving crimes in
Ojoto will not make crimes disappear there. Hell, it would probably
cause an increase because he would only be able to use high-handed
methods to enforce law and order. An added advantage of sectional
policing is that a policeman who lives on the street next to you is not
going to kill your children. You know where his are, and if he gets
away with murder.

As regards the
murderers walking our streets in uniform, the level of entrants into
the police force seriously needs to be looked at. You can’t have
someone who makes up laws as he goes along in uniform. That is wrong.

May the souls of Augustina Arebum, Ekene Isaac, Chinedu Meniru,

Tony Nwokike, Paul Ogbonna, Ifeanyi Ozor, Kareem and other victims
of unpunished police violence rest in peace. And more importantly, may
they get justice. Amen.

Sceptics are often likened to stopped clocks;
mostly wrong but occasionally right. They have mostly agreed on the
wrong-headed approach to the upcoming 50th anniversary of Nigeria –
especially on the billions of naira, which the federal government has
budgeted for this event.

To be sure, the arguments against the celebration
are multi-fold. There are some who said since we have collectively
managed to make a mess of the independence we snatched from the British
in 1960, there is precious little to celebrate this year. Others,
though not so dismissive of the nation’s achievements in the past 50
years, expressed worry that the sum of money budgeted for the
festivities is way too high – especially as the country is presently
facing several challenges that some of the money might well alleviate.

The Nigerian Labour Congress (NLC) described the
budget as ‘wasteful’ and ‘insensitive.’ Others complained that the
budget was another elite slap on the faces of ordinary Nigerians.

The howl of protest against the initial N10
billion budget for the programme was so intense that virtually all
levels of government took time to distance themselves from it. The
National Assembly loudly denounced the estimates as wasteful while even
officials of the presidency, responsible for putting the budget
together, resorted to blaming their predecessor for the suddenly
strange figure. No matter. For a while, there is a sense that
moderation has leapt from the pages of the dictionary to inspire action
on the part of our national leaders.

This was backed by the decision of President
Goodluck Jonathan to slash the budget by almost seven billion to
N9billion, which he then represented to the Senate for approval. This
was speedily done. But it then emerged that the amount approved by the
Senate for the celebration is itself way above what the president asked
for. In fact, at N17b, it is markedly higher than the initial sum that
generated so much joint national outcry. The amount approved by the
Senate is thus higher than the amount requested by the president by an
excess of about N7.715 billion. The jump in the approved figure,
according to NEXT analysis, comes from huge increases in the allocation
to certain agencies of government, including the Federal Capital
Territory and the Ministry of Aviation. The Senate added N2.83 billion
to the amount requested for the FCT, while it also fattened the
approved budget for the Aviation ministry by an excess of N4.885
billion. It was all done quietly, of course. Unlike the original
proposal sent to the National Assembly by the executive, which had
detailed explanation for each allocation, the budget approved by the
lawmakers had no details and was arranged in lump sums for subheads
only. It gets curiouser. Most of the assembly officials questioned
about this denied knowledge of the breakdown of the new budget. This
does no good to the image of the Senate as the more sober of the two
chambers of the National Assembly. It does not matter that the Senate
had earlier condemned the first budget as excessive; after all there is
nothing bad about changing one’s mind. It is possible that the Senators
have sufficient grounds to increase the budget for the celebration, but
they would do well to share these reasons with Nigerians who still
remain unconvinced that such a huge sum of money should be spent to
mark their nation’s 50th anniversary. The finance minister took a stab
at offering an explanation when he said some of this money would go on
capital projects – including the construction of roads and buildings.
Maybe so. But we wonder what the N4.6 trillion recently passed by the
National Assembly was meant for, if we have to depend on another
supplementary budget for the execution of capital projects. It is all
so untidy. Our sceptics might also be forgiven in their assertion that
so much of this money will just go to ‘waste’ or into the ever-gaping
pockets of some officials.

The idea behind the celebration is to uplift the minds of Nigerians
and strengthen their belief in their country. The manner in which
funding for the event is being allocated is anything but uplifting. In
fact, it is acutely depressing. It also makes us wonder if the skeptics
aren’t right after all.