Thread by @ShoutsAndMiras

This is a story about how I graciously, or perhaps not so very graciously, declined the advances of the Primary Chief of Panda Development Area in Karu LGA, Nasarawa State.

Before I describe the chief, I need to describe Panda, and explain why I was living there.

Panda is perplexingly both close to Abuja (about 70km as the crow flies) and completely removed from the modern world - no network, no NEPA lines, and barely even any road.

There is a kind of “road” that links Panda to Mararaba on one side and Gitata on the other, but it’s unpaved and there are two river/ravine-crossings that you must make without the help of a bridge. So this route is only accessible in the dry season, and even then... it’s dodgy.

There are many folks who make a living along this backroad. They push empty hand-carts from Mararaba to Panda, spend the night, filling their carts up with firewood bought from locals who are busy deforesting the region, and push the load back to Mararaba. They make 5k per trip.

But if you’re not peddling firewood, you don’t live in one KD the communities in the area, and don’t have a Jeep, this road is not for you.

The alternative, more popular route, is to drive to Keffi, and turn left before town onto the “old Jos road” which goes to Kachia.

You pass the Shittu military barracks, and a town called Gunduma where allegedly a wealthy man sacrificed children to gain enough wealth to build a gigantic filling station and shopping complex, and a few smaller villages with ridiculously dangerous homemade surprise speed bumps.

Eventually, you get to Gitata, which is just south of the Kaduna state line. Gitata is marked by a military checkpoint. Just before the checkpoint is a turn by your left: this is the main road to Panda.

I once had to take public transport back to Panda from Jos - I had been there for a funeral and for some reason there was a transport issue and my driver was going to meet me in Gitata rather than pick me up from Jos (maybe there was a fuel crisis? I can’t remember).

My fellow travelers were shocked when a) a baturia entered their van, but even more b) halfway through the trip from Jos to Abuja, I alighted in what looked like a random, forsaken and lonely stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. They couldn’t believe I lived there.

The 15km from Gitata to Panda is paved, but because of all the potholes, that journey has never taken me less than 45 minutes by car. Translation: this road is bad.

About halfway between Gitata and Panda, there is a “tourism village” on the right side. I once asked about this.

Apparently, it is a project that will showcase all of the different tribes of the whole country by having a subset of them live there. Don’t ask me who is paying for this or how the tourists are supposed to get to the place. These are questions with no answers.

Luckily for everyone, question “why was I living there, anyway?” DOES have an answer. I was living there because it was the most viable place for me to stay my business. A private land owner had given me permission to farm up to 10 hectares of land on his property for free.

Panda was so random & removed from the modern world that it was free from the conflicts that plague parts of nearby Plateau and Kaduna states. The most stressful experience was dealing with hunters during the dry season who were hopped up on drugs, maybe trying to rustle sheep.

Once there had been a conflict around Christmas time. Some bandits had tried to shoot someone in one of the villages. But according to my source “bullet couldn’t enter” and the villagers’ retaliation with machetes also “couldn’t enter” the bandits.

The villagers chalked it up to their protective amulets, which they said kept them safe from bullets. It sounded like a bad fight with bad aim to me. Those local homemade guns are just as apt to backfire as shoot, so... 🤷🏻‍♀️

But magic is strong in Panda.

Apparently, before the village became Christian, it was known for a strong association with herbal medicines, and a strong association with lizards. When southern tribes used to send warriors up to capture slaves, and when northerners attempted Jihad, they would find Panda empty.

Apparently, the pre-Christian citizens of Panda could turn themselves into lizards to escape from danger. Only when their homes were set on fire did they retake their human shape, and risk captivity. (Take this story for what you will. I’m only repeating what I’ve been told.)

In fact, it is said that the primary chief of Panda still holds onto this mystical shape-shifting power. Although the official symbol on his palace wall is that of a leopard, he has pets of all different types: dogs, bunnies, livestock, catfish, and... 19 crocodiles. 🐊

They say that 1 of these 19 crocodiles can host the Chief’s spirit in times of danger. Maybe if I’d accepted his entreaties, I too would have had my own emergency escape pod in form of a reptile. There have certainly been times in my life when I’ve wanted to hide under a rock...

But alas. Ny destiny is not to become the queen of Panda.

I remember my first meeting with the king. My host had taken me to meet him, so that he could learn about my company and I could seek his support to work with local farmers.

The king asked me to come close. I did.

He told me that my host’s wife had once tried to start a community project with him, but along the way she had just sort of given up, and that he hadn’t even seen her for some time. He said hoped I would continue to work with him. I said yes, of course.

I should take a brief aside here to make sure you all know that the primary chief is a really wonderful and kind and educated person. He is trained as a lawyer, and practiced both law and journalism before ascending the throne. He’s a good writer and a good debator.

I think a good deal of his attraction was based on the fact that there were very few intellectually stimulating people for him to talk to in Panda. When you’re the king, everyone agrees with you. No one debates, argues, offers alternative points of view. And “yes-men” get boring.

Once, the chief debated one of my employees about Nigerian politics, religion, & homosexuality for over three hours! Of course, there was also plenty of palm wine flowing during this meeting. As an aside within and aside, I should say that the palm wine from Panda is REALLY good.

If you’ve ever had palm wine in Abuja, chances are it came from Panda. The trees in that area produce a lovely, lovely wine - and of course, the Chief always had the best hook ups.

At first, he was subtle. He would tell me that he had missed me, and I shouldn’t stay away so long. Then... he started inviting me to visit such exotic destinations as Benue State as his guest, and asking me when I would invite him to London as MY guest.

(Guys I have to take a quick break. Boarding a plane rn - to be continued as soon as I land! Hang tight)

See? Barely any time passed at all! 😉

The chief loved the thrill of the chase - possibly that was even more fun than any end result that could have resulted from his efforts. He once told me, “in the old days, the king could just take whatever he wanted. Everything and everyone in the land was his.”

I replied, “well it’s a good thing we don’t live in the good old days, anymore, right?” And we both had a good chuckle.

On another occasion, the king outright asked if I was seeing someone. I said I was, he asked who, and when I told him he said “ah well, he looks like the crying type - I better not steal you from him.” 😂😂😂😂

The man was witty, I’ll give him credit where credit was due!

We eventually fell into a relatively stable pattern of quarterly visits to the palace - I would always find someone to accompany me, and he would always joke about the day he would carry me off into the sunset.

When I left Panda in 2017, I left behind a friend & a champion. The Sarki of Kangimi, my new royal counterpart, is courteous and supportive of TJ’s efforts. I can’t complain about him at all. He has the respect of his people, and he rules with wisdom. But... it’s a little boring.

For one thing, the Sarki doesn’t speak English. I don’t mean to say he CAN’T speak English. We always speak through interpreters, but once he dropped his phone during a discussion and I quickly said sorry, to which he quickly replied “it’s ok” - as if it came out accidentally.

Another time he told me in perfect English, “I want to speak with [someone on my team].” So I think it’s one of those things where he speaks his language (Hausa) as a sign of strength and power, a signal that he won’t bend to western ways, which I respect tbh.

But it doesn’t lend itself well for prolonged debates about the merits (or lack thereof) of General Abacha’s rule, or an in-depth description of the way in which a king is chosen.

In Panda, I learned that no one who wants to be a king will ever shake the hand of someone who already is. I learned about the politics & scheming & ceremonies that go on behind the scenes in every royal palace, about the delicate relationships you must have with your kingmakers.

I learned about the mythical giant crocodile who lived in the Panda River, and who only showed himself to people once every 4 years. I learned about the things that kept my king up at night. He worried about the environment. He worried about the road. He worried about Abuja.

My Panda Chief worried about crime, and his legacy, and the health of his friends: the rulers in Keffi, Karu, and Akwanga. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, no matter the size of the kingdom.

My new Sarki is opaque. I don’t know what he worries about, except if he chooses to tell me through his interpreter. I suppose neither arrangement is better than the other. I’m grateful that in both instances, the traditional rulers have their people’s best interests at heart.

But sometimes, I miss the crazy good old Panda days.