Belly Button Window

Best Grilled Fish in Nigeria: Abacha Barracks

2009-08-09T13:47:55Z

Fish ladies & grilled croaker

More grilled fish for sale

Fish tastes that good

Beer to wash it all down

Howard whispered two words to me that got me excited. He said "grilled fish" and I responded with a quick "let's go!" It doesn't take much more than the temptation of fresh fish, grilled to tasty perfection, to get me going to the ends of Africa.

And getting to the Abacha Barracks in the Mogadishu Cantonment outside of Abuja did seem like a drive to the ends of Africa - or at least the taxi driver bitched the whole way like it was. Once there, I was a little confused. We pulled up to what looked like a simple Nigerian market. There was nothing to make it look different than any other market. But I was told to walk into the middle.

Inside the Abacha Barracks market is a whole other experience. About 50 fish sellers are arranged in a circle with bars facing the circle of fishmongers. These fishmongers do not sell raw fish for you to take home however, they sell the best croaker and butterfish for direct grilling and eating right there.

As you walk around the circle, there is a fierce rivalry between fish grillers, each one claiming their fish is the freshest, largest, and most succulent. In addition to fish, they offer chicken, chips, and a spicy pepper sauce that will curl your toes.

Here is a short video about the Abacha Barracks fish market:

Talking with the fish vendors is also an experience in volume. Each fishmonger sells about 10 to 20 grilled fish in a night, which is 500, to 1,000 big ass croakers per day. I am amazed that Nigerian rivers can support such a catch. If they sell each fish for 1,000 Naira, with a guesstimate that 50% of revenue goes towards costs, they're looking at about $25 per day in profit.

Or about the same as taxi drivers in Abuja. But let's look at demographics. All the fishmongers are women, while all the taxi drivers are men. If you have a couple working both angles, they could be making around $13,000 per year in tax-free income. Not bad in a country where the average income is just $350 per year.

And it was money well spent. The croaker that we bought was so amazingly succulent. Unlike East African tilapia, usually deep fried to hard, chewy crisp, the West African grilled croaker was perfection. Eating with our hands, the meat fell off the fish bones, with every taste a mouthful of aquatic majesty. Add to it the cooked potato chips (fries) and the Star and Harp beer, and I was in heaven.

The reality check came in the form of endless Nigerian hawkers looking to sell us all manner of nicknacks and the like, most useless junk. Other vendors sold music, and several bands circulated, demanding payment to stop playing their music in your face as you tried to eat.

Coming Soon: Listen here to experience the sounds of the Abacha Barracks fish market musicians.

My only complaint was the horrible construction of the bars that encircled the fish BBQ. Each had a raised concrete curb barrier that crushed my toes several times in the darkness. Only the Star beer induced buzz kept me from attacking these toe-breakers with a sledge hammer.

Surprising Nigerian N95 Honesty

2009-07-25T08:38:20Z

I so love my N95

Oh My God - WHERE IS MY PHONE!!! This is the thought that races through my mind and sends a chill through my heart as I frankly search my person for my Nokia N95. I am standing over my seat, as I put away my luggage on Kenya Airways Flight 0533, from Lagos to Nairobi, and I've just realized my phone is missing.

Again I recheck my person and my luggage and then it hits me - I've left my phone in the airport waiting area. I was so absorbed in composing emails to all my Kenyan contacts, letting them know of my impeding arrival, that I didn't hear the first call for my flight.

When I finally did, I scrambled to the jetway, leaving my prized possession, my per-diem-paid-for N95 superphone behind, alone and vulnerable on a random seat. Where I now realize it must be sitting, just waiting to be found by its new owner.

GO! This is my only thought as I run off the plane, up the jetway, and back towards the airport lobby so fast I only shout "My phone!!" over my shoulder at flight attendants, ground staff, and armed guards. I am running so fast, that I don't stop to walk in between seat rows, I run over the tops of them towards my phone's last location.

As I close in, I realize I need to open up. All around me are shouts of "upstairs", with fingers pointing to the second floor balcony. That's when it dawns on me that my phone was found, and miraculously reported at lost. Yes, in Nigeria, home of the 419 scam, Nigerians, known as the swindlers of Africa, have shown and honest trait. They reported my phone lost, not theirs.

Grabbing my phone from a steward, I then retrace my dash with the same speed - Kenya Airways is known for leaving late passengers and I was surely the last one on board today. As I cross the plane's threshold my shock of loss turned into shock of recovery. I had just lost and found an expensive mobile phone, thanks to the goodwill of Africa's most maligned millions: Nigerians.

Maybe it was a sense of right and wrong, or of morality on a Sunday, or just a recognition that they too could face the same plight, but regardless of the reason, I am grateful to those in the Murtala Muhammed International Airport on a random morning in July.

And as repayment, let this experience be a drop of positive in a sea of Nigerian negatives.

Meet me in Nairobi, Abjua, or Accra

2009-07-22T20:10:09Z

How I roll in Africa

I'm headed to Africa soon for three weeks of meetings and trainings in Nairobi, Abuja, and Accra for Inveneo. I'll be in each city about a week, and would love to meet up with loyal Belly Button Window readers if you're around.

See, while I am a fanatic proponent of web-based discourse - I'm publishing at least six different blogs right now - I'm convinced that online discourse is an amplification of offline, in-person connections. In fact, I believe that online conversations are not possible without some level of face-to-face discussions between participants.

Or as a friend once said "meatspace has the highest bit rate" And I haven't connected with that many Belly Button readers in a while.

I'll be traveling through Africa in accordance with this general itinerary:

Nairobi the week of July 27th
Abuja the week of August 3
Accra the week of August 10

If you're in any of those cities when I am there, or know someone I should meet, then please let me know. And if you'd like to follow along on this adventure, be sure to subscribe to Belly Button Window in one of three ways:

As always, I'll be recording this adventure for your enjoyment here.

Petworth's July 4th Fireworks - Does Yours?

2009-07-05T02:59:26Z

Taxi, waiting to pounce

Taxi, moving in for the bite

Washington DC has a peculiar tradition of intense 4th of July fireworks. Now, I'm not talking about the national spectacle that you see on TV. That tourist-only event on the Mall is far removed from our lives in Petworth. I'm talking about the neighbourhood-based fireworks that put the Mall to shame.

From mid-afternoon on July 4th, to well past midnight, the city is besieged by amateur fireworks displays, each block showering the night sky with hundreds, if not thousands of dollars worth of fireworks. And as luck would have it, our neighbourhood congregates at the end of my block for fireworks central.

Every year, the center of the intersection is taken over by the kids all amped up on sugar and excitement, the bottle rockets and roman candles bought over the last month taunting them with anticipation. From this humble launch pad, they illuminate Petworth with all manner of gravity-defying lights and blasts.

But don't think for a moment I dislike this display. Oh much to the contrary, I look forward to the madness with joy. Yet, even my enthusiasm is nothing compared with Dog Taxi. She goes positively crazy at the sight of fireworks. And not with fear either.

As a child approaches the next star burst tub, Taxi will start to bark, wanting so bad to participate. Then, once lit, she wants to run at the canister. And if I let her charge it after the rocket has launched, she'll bit the tube, seeking to "get" the fireworks. She'll do this for firecrackers and sparklers as well. A real fire-eating Taxi Dog. She's so crazy, I can't take her off the leash for fear she'd loose a nose trying to eat a jumbo rocket.

And with a show so close and dog so nuts, why would I ever go downtown on the 4th of July. I know Petworth's fireworks!

Minding the Future in Myrtle Beach

2009-06-29T02:31:18Z

Loving the day-life

Enjoying the night-life

For six months, Amy and I have not left Hanalei's side. For six months, we have traded off parenting roles, day and night. For six months, we showed our love though our presence. Yet this weekend, we have tossed all that aside.

For two blissful days, amy And I have abandoned our child. We're in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina for a wedding, while Hanalei is back in Washington, DC. Yet do not fear for her, do not fret that she is truly left hone alone. She's being watched closely and safely by Amy's parents.

For Hanalei's parents, this is a wonderful weekend to recharge. To sleep in late, drink heavily, and generally relax after six months of non-stop child-care. And its with that mindset that Amy and I look out on Myrtle Beach with joy and sadness.

Joy for we are free and young again. We can go our separate ways without worry of who is where. Amy can booze up and caffeinate for the first time in 15 months (pregnancy + 6 months). I can enjoy my wife without the fear of the wail of need.

But sadness, for we see children all around us and miss our own. Children that remind us we shall be childless one day too. Our own brood will grow up quickly and leave us (so we hope!), just as many of the children on the beach are doing in small ways each day. From toddlers attempting the beach break to teenagers wandering out of parental eye, children are growing up in front of our eyes.

And when we return to DC, and embrace our daughter again, she will be a fe days older. A few ounces heavier, and a few million synapses smarter. She will still be our child, but we have see the future when she will not. She'll be her own self soon.

Yet, maybe not right now. Amy is checking in with Mom and Hanalei just pooped!

Running Past My First Father's Day

2009-06-21T14:57:16Z

Best Use of A Bike Lane

Today is the first of what I hope to be many happy Father's Days. And even though she is too young to tell me what she'd do for this special day, I knew what would make both of us happy: a long run through Petworth.

No, Hanalei isn't running yet - she gets the easy ride in a baby jogger. Better yet, in the car seat, in the baby jogger, protected and after the first few blocks, asleep. Then its up to daddy to keep the speed, so she can have a cool breeze while she sleeps.

Daddy got his own reward, for as he ran around the neighbourhood, everyone called out "Happy Father's Day" for which he responded "Thanks, its my first!" to hearty congratulations. I so love that my neighbourhood is so friendly.

It also has long straight roads with little traffic, allowing me to run my 7 miles without turning the stroller too often, or worrying about cars. Best of all, a few streets even have bike lanes, for which I usurp for Hanalei and I.

Soon, I hope she'll be big enough to face forward in the jogger as I run, enjoying the view and talking with daddy.

Putting Pride into Petworth Medians

2009-06-16T17:05:29Z

Muriel Bowser Checks on Petworth Medians

This morning, my Councilmember Muriel Bowser took time out from her busy schedule to meet with community members around the construction of Petworth Medians so they can support trees and community-maintained plantings.

For those that are following along, New Hampshire Avenue is getting a nice brick & granite median from around Park Road all the way to Grant Circle. So far,construction is proceeding from Georgia to Grant Circle, but some in Petworth have an issue with the way it was proceeding. The medians were not being excavated to a depth that would support trees, per the original design, and plants and shrubbery, per community desires.

Muriel came out to see what the ruckus was about, and I want to thank her for her attention to this issue that is dear to my heart. I hope she shares my dream that one day, New Hampshire Avenue will be a green line of shade and beauty from Park Road to Grant Circle.

Thanks again, Muriel!

Help for My Green Thumb: Ladybugs!

2009-06-12T13:19:56Z

Gardener's Best Friend

So a while back I decided we needed a garden in our back yard. The first year was very experimental - I even hired a gardener to help Amy and I understand the process. This year, I'm rocking!

I have two raised garden beds here and here that have exploded with greenery with an amazingly wet spring. I have lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, carrots, and beets all reaching for the sky as they put down roots in the amazing Smartleaf compost.

Urban gardening does have its dangers. Besides the lettuce flattening storms, there is the constant threat of aphids. Which is what prompted me to buy a few hundred of the gardeners best friend: ladybugs.

Dog Taxi Tackles Rock Creek Ripples

2009-05-16T02:26:06Z

Splashing herself through the summer heat

Taxi trying to swallow Rock Creek

Dog Taxi loves herself some splashing water. And I am not talking about watching it from afar, or barking at it passively. No I mean she dives headlong into any breaking water to try and eat all the waves produced, by say, the ocean.

While we first noticed her craze at Dog Beach in Maryland, I've found that Dog Taxi will try the same water guzzling feat in Rock Creek:

Yes, that's her diving into the rushing river, trying to bite every splash and ripple in the surface. She'll jump into almost any sized river turn trying to get at the foam. And if she gets off the leash, she'll attack, attack, and attack the water till she's too full to walk.

So yeah, while its fun to watch for a minute, I have to stop her quick less she gets a tummy ache and pukes up a stream or two herself.

From Majesty to Mulch in Minutes

2009-05-08T02:11:36Z

The loss of an elder statesman in Petworth

The loss of an ancient

I bemoan the loss of any tree, no matter its age or placement. I feel that Washington does not have enough trees, which cool the city, absorb its rains, and make this a wonderful place to live. Yet life is tough for the urban forest, what with all the dangers like vehicular tree slaughter.

So when I see an old oak or elm, which stands proud and tall amongst the built environment, I am heartened. Yet when they fall, be by nature or by man, I am so very sad. And when they are cut down by the chain saw, I am beside myself with heartbreak:

The loss of this old oak, just off Grant Circle in Petworth, haunts me to this day. I'm going to miss this ancient resident who lived on this block longer than any of us could ever imagine.

Prohibitive Ocean City Signage

2009-05-03T00:48:37Z

Just say "NO" to everything fun in Ocean City

Ocean City's NoNo's

Feel welcomed at the pool?

Whenever I travel, I get a feel for a city from its public signs. Some places, like Barcelona or Paris, enjoy their signage, and make function bend to whimsical. In Ocean City, there was no joy in signage. It was all practical and very prohibitive.

Let's look at what is not allowed, from just one sign on the Ocean City boardwalk which underlines its regulations with the bold Regulations Police Enforced:

No Alcoholic Beverages: I am on the fence about no booze on the beach. Some of my best memories are drunk tanning with Yana. Then again, there's nothing that ruins a good day faster than that guy drunk and obnoxious, and in your grill.
No Dogs May 1-Sept 30: No love for Taxi Dog? This I do not understand. Why the hate on pooches? I can see a leash requirement, but no dogs at all? Harsh.
No Ball or Frisbee Throwing: Disk golf on the beach is to much, but no frisbee or ball throwing at all? What kind of no-fun restriction is that? Next, no big beach blankets?
No Sleeping on Beach, 10pm-6am: How does Ocean City expect its horny young teens to get busy outside of the watchful parental eye if they don't allow "sleeping" on the beach. That's how I lost my virginity and the pain of sand in the naked crotch should be shared by all
No Open Fires: So no giant bonfires, or no fires of any sort, from cigarettes to BBQ? I can see banning smoking - you get ugly cigarette butts or stinky cigars, but no leaping flames under the full moon?
No Loud Music: This has to be the biggest joy pill kill. How do they define "loud music" - anything you can hear that you don't like? Are amplifiers that go to 11 banned? Or just bad country music at any volume?

And the No-No's don't stop here. The very next sign to this one loudly proclaims: No Dogs on Beach - No Dogs on Boardwalk - All Dogs Leashed. And with a minimum $25 fine for breaking the rules, Ocean City didn't seem very welcoming if you ask me.

Grant Circle Vehicular Tree Slaughter

2009-04-28T01:53:04Z

The loss of another young life in Petworth

What's left of the victim

Recently I came across a crime scene in Grant Circle, and I am saddened and angered by its result - a needless death. One of the young trees was cut down in its prime by yet another speeding driver who drove through, instead of around, Grant Circle.
This vehicular tree slaughter took the life of a promising sapling. It also took any innocence that a person, or child, could be the next victim of a careless driver in Petworth.

Where are reflectors, rumble strips, speed humps, or at least working park lights - to slow drivers down and alert them that Grant Circle is ahead? Do we really need to graduate from vehicular tree slaughter to vehicular manslaughter before we get slowing on New Hampshire Avenue?

Spring Clean: A New Back Yard

2009-04-13T05:38:10Z

The lush green is worth the effort

Tilling the soil

Enjoying the lawn

It took three truck-bending trips, but I just removed six thousand (6,000!) pounds of concrete from the back yard of my house. This was just the beginning of the rebirth of my lawn from post-industrial wasteland into a green oasis of beauty and serenity.

I did not start out to move so much concrete. At first, I just wanted to take out the sidewalk along my fence line, and replace it with a meandering path between a flower bed paralleling the fence, and through a yard of lush green grass. But with any household improvement, sh*t happened.

What I thought would be a sheen of concrete easily crushed and trucked to the Fort Totten transfer station, became an odyssey of jackhammers, day labors, and one-ton trips of concrete debris to a pay-to-dump trash yard. Seems that sheen of sidewalk was hiding several inches of ancient concrete.

But up and out it came, and gone it is, so my yard is transforming. The flower bed is planted, filled with compost and mulch, and its residents are blooming as they reach up to cover the fence and fill my yard with fresh scents of flowers. And now I also have new grass.

I tore up the old grass - really just weeds run amok - and planted bright green sod. Now that its starting to take, I'm excited that Taxi Dog will have a place to run and Hanalei will have a place to play. I also added a stone patio under the existing back porch, perfect for Dad to grill and Mom to relax with a margarita while we watch the kids.

Next, Grammy is planting vegetables in the new food garden beds in the very back of the yard so we can have fresh produce through the year. These beds, filled to the brim with SmartLeaf compost, will bring us lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, petters, basil, and an assortment of other tasty treats, building on last year's garden experiments to create a long-term harvest for the Vota family.

Finally, as I now just about finished with my spring gardening, I can enjoy the best part of all this effort - watching the plants grow as I drink beer.

Hanalei Speaks Her First Words!

2009-04-01T13:34:41Z

Listen closely to her speaking at 3 months

Another video of me dad?!

Its with great joy and surprise that I'm proud to announce that Hanalei Stockard Vota is now talking. Yes, she is speaking at 3 months old - a record for any of our families. While she's not quite saying whole sentences, if you listen to her on this video, you can tell she's making sense.

As her father, I'm so proud that she's talking, its kinda hard for me to admit that I don't always agree with what she says. Her stance on the impact of Obama's stimulus package on domestic consumption, or North Korea's missile program on six-nation talks are controversial to say the least, but at least we do agree on milky-milk preference: boob beats bottle every time.

So on this first day of April, join me in a good laugh to all those that Hanalei fooled.

Time for a Spring Haircut

2009-03-22T02:31:13Z

How do you like the new buzz cut look?

What I looked like then

What I look like now

As a young man, I enjoyed long hair. Midway down my back in a long pony-tail, my hair signified my membership in the surfer tribe. We were the beach bums who could grow our hair long and enjoy the day, unrestricted by convention or conformity.

Fast forward a few years, and my hair was short - clipped to get my first job and kept short thereafter for ease as much as employment. In Russia, I started spiking my hair up, but by this century, it was time to leave youth and keep it short and contained.

Then I started to loose my hair. I went from a widow's peak to receding hair at my temples. And my frustration with my hair increased as its coverage decreased. Starting a year ago I kicked around the idea of shaving my head. Getting rid of all my hair out of annoyance as well as acquiescence to advancing age.

So with spring in the air and change in the wind, it was time to take thought into practice with a mid-afternoon shearing:

Yes, that was Amy trimming my scalp, and I am now sporting a buzz cut worthy of the Marine Corps. Its definitely a new look for me. Question is: do you like it?