Sometimes a new environment helps bring out a new fascinating side to you
“ACCRA? You mean Agra, Right?” “Nope, Accra, Ghana. I live in Ghana, West Africa.” My usual conversation in India about where I live now. Africa somehow translates into South Africa and why not? So many Bollywood movies shot there and it’s a popular on the Indian tourist circuit.
“Madam, Why do you live in such a country?” asked the immigration officer at Indira Gandhi International Airport. He made me wait for an hour and a half because no one could understand the Cameroun Visa on my passport. “Yaounde? Where is it? Why are you going there? “Ummm… I live there now because my husband works there” I responded. “You should live in nice nice countries, madam” said the immigration officer. “None of your business” I wanted to respond but bit my tongue and proceeded to board the Ethiopian Airlines flight.
Years rolled by and we moved from one West African country to another, each day more exciting and enriching than the other.
I love how the world cultures collide in West Africa and the immense creative explosion it creates. One gets to meet movie makers, writers, musicians, healers, world leaders and global entrepreneurs
I became like a sponge soaking and savoring every experience along the joy ride of life in West Africa.
We lived in Democratic Republic of Congo for eight exciting years. Again the responses were from most Banal to the most bizarre “Do they eat human beings?” “Is there an airport?” “Do you see animals in your backyard” “Please can you bring back some gold and diamonds?” “Do you get Indian food?” “Are there some Indians there?”
And it is thanks to such interesting questions that I turned into a ‘Griot’ or a traditional story teller in West Africa. I felt obliged to document and narrate my stories and personal experiences in West Africa. There are many novels narrating the lives and times of Indian expats in England and America but hardly any literature has been published about the bustling Indian community and their unique contribution in Africa. My husband encouraged me to write a diary about my experiences. I wanted to write about Africa, write about Indians and write about the society? “How do I begin ? What do I write about? Are people interested in Africa? And then it was a parcel of food that triggered my novel.
‘Madame, there is a parcel for you on the table’ said Josie my children’s nanny as I walked into the living room. ‘Hmmmmm it smells heavenly. “Who dropped it?” I asked while popping a piece of melt in the mouth Handvo. “Your friend’s mother’s driver was here’ she responded while I was licking the most divine garlic chilli chutney. After I devoured the whole plate, I called up to thank the kind old lady who had taken an instant liking to me because I stopped to chat with her every day! ‘Kem Che beta?” was her instant response as she picked my call. ‘Aunty, who taught you to cook like this?” I asked with admiration dripping from my voice. “Cooking is in the genes of Indian women! Don’t you think so, Beta?” “I think that gene escaped me Aunty!” We laughed together. “Don’t worry I will teach you. Come over whenever you want masala chai and dhokra’.
The conversation and food set me thinking. The kind old lady has never set foot in India just like her mother. They were born and raised in Africa never setting their beautiful feet in Gujarat. How do they speak fluent kutchi or Gujrati and eat dal chawal, shak and rotli. They are more ‘Indian’ and religious than the urban India today never missing their prayer meeting and community service or ‘Seva’ as they call it. The tight knit Gujrati community (Hindi, Muslim and Ismaili) are spread all over East Africa including Tanzania, Uganda, Kenya, and some in Congo and Burundi.
The dynamic community not only control majority of the business but also contribute to the society they live in. The beautiful mosques, Jamatkhana and temples constructed by them stands witness to their contribution to the society. Women volunteer to do seva and offer free class of French/English and religious studies. Often the places of worship double up as social centers where families gather for lunch and dinner or various activities such as Fancy dress/painting competition or other activities for children. Marriages are held here with full regalia.
I am mostly wonder struck by these second and third generation Indian women who have never visited India and continue to wear saris and salwar kameez and speak their native language. Naira (name changed) was born in Tanzania she doesn’t remember the year though. The minute she reached puberty she was married to someone in Mombasa but when she lost her husband at an early age, she remarried and moved to Burundi. Today she lives in the interiors of Congo and runs a small shop where she sells sundry items, stitches Indian outfits and takes orders for Nihari and Gulab jamun if she has energy left. I have so much respect for these women who leave no stones unturned to add the additional income for their family while keeping nothing for themselves.
Their cooking is exactly like their ancestors in saurashtra but they have innovated a little for the lack of original ingredients which was unavailable back then. The chana bateta is cooked with tomato paste that are widely sold here in tiny little tin boxes. Gulab Jamun and Dahi Vada made with bread and samosas made with philo pastries. Another such elderly woman sells Indian food stuff to support her family and speaks only French and Gujrati and sheds copious tears while watching the various Indian soaps on TV.
Entire Indian population of West Africa is extremely grateful to Sony, Zee, B4U and NDTV for bringing India into their houses. Till very recently they had no contact with their motherland but today it is beamed into their salons and they are glued. The effects can be seen in their dressing, make up and daily conversation. Now Chand raat, Eid or Navratris have latest fashion from the tele serials.
The world is shrinking thanks to advance technology and yet not much literature, documenting the lives of Indians comes out of West Africa. We moved From Congo to Ivory Coast and now to Ghana, an Anglophone country in West Africa.
“How does it feel to live in an English speaking country? Is it different from the rest of the Francophone countries you have lived in?”
New Country and New questions! The first thing that struck me about Ghana was the number of Neem trees that grow randomly every where and the number of Indians who live here. “Who are these people?” “What brings them to Ghana?” Each family had their own fascinating story to tell. Some made it big and struck gold. There were some who made it big and blew it up.
It was here that I decided to write my first novel “Congo – A journey”. The book explores the life of an Indian expat and his unique journey in West Africa. It also documents the lives of expat wives, Indian Business men and workers.