My Best Childhood Memory ..

Everyone has favourite childhood memories. Moments of extreme or pure happiness.

I would like to share mine because I also wanted to pay tribute to my amazing mother who died last year one month before her 94th birthday. I still miss her so much and writing about her makes me feel close to her and keeps her alive in my head.

I had a very happy childhood in Ibadan Nigeria. My mother was welsh and a health visitor, my father was Nigerian and an ophthalmic optician. We lived on a very nice housing estate and socialised in a ‘recreation club’ with my parents’ friends and their children.

My mother had always been ahead of her time (I’m my mind anyway). She was born during World War I and had been through World War II. She spoke Russian and German and had been disowned by her father for marrying a black man in the 50s. She didn’t care, when her father left their house to the local pub (in borth y gest, north wales) and a half pence in his Will, she had defiantly marched up the high street in African robes with me on her back (African style) and then ceremoniously tossed the coin on his grave. She had decided she preferred to live in Africa anyway.

When I was 7, she announced that she and I were going to take trip up through Nigeria crossing the river Niger, into the north (Hausa territory) and on to the edge of the Sahara desert. She had a blue Volkswagen beetle and a map of Nigeria. I remember her showing me how to read a map and then telling me that I was to navigate. Bearing in mind that this was the 60s on mainly rough roads, I realise now that this was no mean feat for a white woman and her child travelling 1000 kms. But I have such clear memories of adventure that I have never experienced since.

The first was a few men stopping us and rubbing a headless dog on on our bonnet, apparently they were worshippers of the god ‘ogun’ and the blood on our bonnet was to give us a safe journey. My mother was never scared (or maybe she didn’t show it). There was a lot of driving on bush roads and then we hit the mighty River Niger where I remember we had to wait for some reason. After crossing that, we hit the north of Nigeria, mainly Hausa territory and I remember being fascinated that the towns came alive at night. All the shops opened and there was a lot of bustle. It was exciting. We ate a lot of suya. (spiced meat on skewers – delicious!!) in the day, it was very quiet, everyone stayed indoors as it was too hot. We stayed with some friends in Kano and Kaduna.. I remember going swimming. We then headed to a town called Gusau where my father had some relatives. I think we just asked people where the compound of this family was and found ourselves being welcomed into their family. I remember they killed a goat and we had a feast in their compound. I think my father’s cousin had quite a few wives. We then headed to Katsina and sometime after met people from the Fulani tribe. They were so beautiful with their elaborately braided hair. We also met some Tuaregs on horseback, they had blue bodies from their dyed robes. My mother told me we were on the edge of the mighty sahara desert and so lucky to meet such nice people from different cultures.

The journey back was not exciting except my mother’s car was playing up and we had to find a mechanic in a small town, which we did..I remember the drivers of the mammy wagons helping us with water for the radiator at some point. But then we headed back home.

We walked into the recreation club, my mum sat down and ordered a beer and I went off to play with my friends.

If I know my mum, she was probably planning another adventure soon after..