MRS. PANE AND I

Mrs. Pane was our landlady- she owned a building that is more like a prison!
Imagine a building separated with a long passage with six rooms at both sides, and we all share a single toilet, bathroom, and kitchen!

Mrs. Pane, that old lady with a loud mouth was also a close pal to my mom, they gossip all evening. She likes to shout at me, and I can’t say why.

One Saturday, she said something in front of the prisoners, I mean the occupants. They were all sitting outside the building like there was a congress. Some were playing games; some were just basking in the sun. But they all laughed at me when she said I looked like a strand of spaghetti because of my straight and lean figure. I believed that was just out of jealousy because her sons were fat and ugly! Nevertheless, I decided to pay her back.

She has a brown towel by the lobby of the bathroom, so, I decided to use it as a medium for my revenge. Whenever I was so dirty after playing soccer with my friends, I bothered not to bath; I just went straight at her towel and wiped my whole dirty slimed body with it. I was super happy, and since I play the soccer every day, the towel was useful for wiping my dirty body- it’s payback time!

The best I did was when I spit on it and rubbed it in. I cleaned my tongue with it and so much more.
I and Mrs. Pane became friends. I no longer frown at her or grumble whenever she comes around and shout. She was surprised, but I was laughing at her though she didn’t realize. She doesn’t have to- revenge is an art, one that I believed I have mastered.

So, one day, it was going to be a long soccer match, so I took the towel with me and promised myself to return it. When I got home, my mom was too keen on reminding me not to leave our things at the passage or outside because anyone might steal it.

“Did someone steal anything, mom”? I asked.

“Of course”, she replied. “Mrs. Pane is back early today- she caught a stomach bug and she frequents the toilet. She couldn’t find her face towel”.

“Maybe some kids played with it”, I said. “They will return it”.

“Well, I just pray they don’t put it in their mouth or wipe their body with it”.

“Why did you say that”? I asked, getting worried.

“You know we all share the same toilet”, she started, “so, in her way of preventing infection, Mrs. Pane always lay the towel on the rim of the closet before sitting on it”.

I belched, but she hasn’t finished, so, she went on,

“She also uses it to wipe her butt because she cleans her butt with water after defecating”.

I didn’t allow her to finish before I fainted!

When I woke up, I vowed I will not give up. My struggle continues, but Mrs. Pane surely got this round!

*picture from dreamstime.com

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SETTING UP A SMALL SCALE GARRI PROCESSING PLANT

YOU CAN GET A FREE MANUAL ON HOW TO MANAGE YOUR GARRI PROCESSING FACTORY EFFECTIVELY WITHOUT A HITCH HERE

Kindly visit our garri dedicated blog for everything related to Garri processing.

www.garriprocessing.blogspot.com


***

Allow me to digress from the usual story telling or the likes that frequent my blog-line. This simple piece is complied because of the people who contact me for details on cassava cultivation and importantly, the minimum requirements of setting up a garri processing plant. I believe this will also help those who has interest in doing so.

Some of you might be wondering what Garri means, especially those who weren't from the western part of Africa and beyond. Not to worry, I will give a brief introduction before going to production by setting up a small scale processing factory.

a finished garri ready for consumption

looks yummy, isn't it? This is a typical African dish. Eba, from Garri, ready to be devoured with a very rich vegetable stew

Garri (also known as gari, garry, or tapioca) is a popular West African food made from cassava tubers. The spelling 'garri' is mainly used in Nigeria, Cameroon, Sierra Leone, Benin, Togo and in Ghana.

Actually, while in school, we call it - G2SO4 .... Garrium di-oxo sulphate six. Please, don't bother to check your chemistry books because it doesn't exist. It is a staple food widely consumed within some West African countries, and has recently etched it's name amongst the most exported African food products. The end product is packed in 50kg bags or less, and exported to other countries.




To make garri, cassava tubers are peeled, washed and grated or crushed to produce a mash. The mash is placed in a porous bag and weights are placed on the bag for one to two days or more to press excess water and starch out. It is then sieved (or sifted) and fried in an extra large clay frying pot with or without oil. The resulting dry granular garri can be stored for long periods. It may be pounded or ground to make a fine flour.

 

a local fryer.            www.ellist.com

 
If you are interested going into a well-planned and effective garri processing business, then there are some things you need to consider..

1. Land

You've got no choice but to have the land. An acre (6plots) is okay for a moderate processing company...
Of course it shouldn't be water logged, or the type that is not properly drained. The reason is very simple; so that you won't have yourself an unhealthy environment breeding flies and diseases due to the always wet environment.
This applies mainly to those who had no intention to screed the surrounding ground. But if u are ready to spend the money and screed the whole floor, then you're good to go.

www.ntoafrica.com

Some finished Product packed ready for export

www.nairaland.com

2. The processing building: this is built on the land

This will be classified into two compartments;

(a) the wet area

(b) the dry area

THE WET AREA

The wet area houses all necessary machinery see to the processes of washing the peeled cassava, fermenting and pressing. Most people prefer a very large trough where they wash thoroughly by hand. The grinder grinds into slurry, and the mash are packed in a porous sacks and placed on the fermentation racks to ferment. After this, the hydraulic pressers does its job of removing the waters.

The wet area should be kept clean always. I usually recommend cheap ceramic or rubber floor tiles to enable smooth and easy cleaning.

Kindly visit our garri dedicated blog for everything related to Garri processing.

www.garriprocessing.blogspot.com

THE DRY AREA

The dry area comprises of the simple machine that sieves the pressed cassava. It also contains the fryer, and the again the simple machine that sieves roasted cassava (now garri) into required grains as required.

The dry area also houses the store. The stores are usually 2, one for keeping the packing sacks, and the other for storing the already packed garri ready to go out into the market.

The latter store will comprise two doors. One from the inside for storing, and the other outside for loading finished products into into truck. This enables a well organized FIFO process.

The dry area also allows the scale to found a sitting place. The scale's use is well known to all in measuring into the required quantity.
Toilets, borehole or a clean well, and the truck for delivery will have to settle outside.

Some uses fence while some love the open space. Either way, there will be a shed where fresh cassava tuber are delivered and peeled hand or by a cassava peeling machine. The disadvantages are always with them. While hand peeling wastes time and consumes both energy and money, the peeler has it's own, mainly two:

1. When the body of the tuber is not regular, it doesn't peel off every skin. You will still have to pay peelers to peel the remaining.


2. If you have to adjust the peeling machine to peel deeper, be ready to loose most of your tubers o waste.

MACHINERY NEEDED:

1. Peeler

a peeler in action                      www.elaborbizonline.com

 

2. Grinder

a grinder in action  

3. Hydraulic presser

hydraulic pressers               www.flicker.com

4. Mechanical Sieve

www.wmintegrateddevelopment.org       mechanical sieves

 5. Fryer

mechanical fryer

After frying, you sieve to separate the coarse from the fine produce. Some people likes them as larger finished products while some prefer it to be fine finished.


Garri production is very lucrative, and widely consumed.

the popular Nigerian international musician, D'banj, advertising his own garri product.

A white lady enjoying her ration of African food produced from garri

* it is advisable to finish the floors of your small factory with ceramic or rubber tiles for easy cleaning.

 

if you wish to set up your garri processing plant in a small scale, or you wish to know more, please contact me via:

+2347035593128

garriguy007@gmail.com

Kindly visit our garri dedicated blog for everything related to Garri processing.

www.garriprocessing.blogspot.com

YOU CAN GET A FREE MANUAL ON HOW TO MANAGE YOUR GARRI PROCESSING FACTORY EFFECTIVELY WITHOUT A HITCH HERE

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BOOMERANG: the story of the foolish lady

I couldn’t bring myself to believe that my sister has brought this much shame upon us. Or let me say I did know she would, but I didn’t know it will be this quick. Now, for the first time in my life, the first son, the second born, I witnessed the whole family of four enveloped in a dark fog of darkness that may never leave again. I also needed to be blamed in all these; I should have talked when I had the chance, and I knew my dad would have taken a drastic measure. And probably, this wouldn’t have happened.

I remembered the day my dad asked me to go give my sister some urgent money in school. Her numbers weren’t going, and she said the deadline was going to be twelve noon that day. The first thing that went wrong was that she wasn’t staying in the school hostel as she claimed she was. I was directed to a friend, who directed me to another friend who said her friend will take me to her friend who knew her place off campus, where she was staying with her friends. Well, I got to the place, and I knocked without an answer. The door was left slightly opened, so I pushed my way in. The sight was a shame. My sister, including five of her friends was asleep and snoring like uncultured animals. My sister was sleeping in a vomit of another one who was naked, from waist to the top. I tapped her, and that was when I knew she was drunk.

Outside, she begged me not to tell our parents, and I agreed. Not that that didn’t have a price which she gladly paid. The dress she was wearing was not more than a handkerchief, and her nipples were pointing sideways. The skirt was a super micro mini like the ones I’ve only seen in movies involving prostitutes.  I wonder how she managed to appear at home during holidays like a responsible girl she was brought up to be. She should be a double agent. But I didn’t mind, she paid me good.

Then, just last week, a concerned friend of hers called my dad and told him that my sister was pregnant and was trying to self-abort it after the doctor said it might take her life. My parents flew to her school and carted her home. At home, my dad asked her to call the guy who was responsible for her pregnancy, but that proved to be the wrong move. The guy said he has already told my sister he can’t be responsible. This came about when the three different doctors said she can’t abort the pregnancy because she has aborted too many, and doing this will surely claim her life. He said my sister opened up to him that she has aborted eleven times for different guys! The guy even said he listened to her plea to abort the pregnancy after carefully considering he couldn’t marry a girl like her. He said they always have sex inside the toilet of the club where they met! He wasn’t even sure he was responsible. Guys at the club call her ‘el-Sarah’. The prefix before her name actually means ‘easy lay’, but she has always been told it meant ‘almighty’!

My dad, for the first time since I was born, cried like a baby, with his head on my mom’s bosom. My mom was trying to console my dad, but she was also crying. Everyone except me was. That day, our house was like a graveyard, silent, with a heavy air of darkness. El-Sarah cried throughout the night. Eventually, amidst her noise, I slept off.

The next day, I woke up to the usual silence and the unusual silence of El-Sarah. With curiosity, I headed to her room and found her dead with a note with two words, ‘I’m sorry’. I took the note and went straight to my parents’ room, I wasn’t feeling bad. My mom fell on the floor and started crying, but my dad, surprisingly, was calm. He held my arm and pulled me outside the room. I was scared; I thought he was going to accuse me because his countenance was stern and piercing. But as soon as he closed the door behind him, he looked into my eyes, raised the suicide note to my face and said,

“Son, I am sorry your sister had to take her life, we probably were too harsh on her, but this is not a solution, it never should be. If you are wondering why I wasn’t moved by this, it is because I am angry at her for hurting us, and then leaving us in mystery. Your mom might never overcome this shock. Suicide is never a way out; there is always a chance for redemption. Son, no matter what you did, what you will do, remember, we might get hurt, we might get harsh, but never take your life. That is never a way out.”

I nodded and went back inside, angry at my sister, the foolish one!

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BOOMERANG: the story of a foolish man

I managed to fool everyone but myself when I said I wanted to travel to another State just to see my girlfriend. Because it wasn’t just another State, I will have to go through four states just to get to her State of residence, people believed I was committed to the relationship. I wasn’t, at least, not anymore.

Just two months ago, Sade and I nearly parted due to a slight argument, but people managed to intercede, and they thought they have averted what they thought was a disaster. But they haven’t, not when my mind was off the relationship already.

After I have convinced myself that she has been keeping another man, just like I have also been involved with Liza, another lady from the State where I resided, I decided to visit Sade with the guise that I was coming to settle our rift, when in truth, I only wanted to gather evidence against her; evidence that will be indisputable.

So, after spending the night with Liza, I set out on the journey to Sade’s place. On my way, I bought an Android phone as a gift and installed a call-recording spy app on the phone. I am sure she will make a call to the mystery guy within the seven days I have planned to spend. There is no need for the spy app because I already knew she has been planning a break-up since the time she suddenly called and informed me that whenever I visit, there won’t be any sexual intercourse as usual! But the people who have chosen to stand up in her defense must know the truth, hence, the reason for the spy app.

On the first night, while she was asleep, I checked the apps and listened to her calls- there was nothing much, same as the second day. On the third day, she received a call that wanted her to come over immediately. I was sure it was the guy, the mystery man. I was happy. That night, I refused to check the spy app: I thought it would be better to let her sins accumulate. The next day, she called from the office and said she will be coming home late from work; I gladly sanctioned it with a smile at my end. She didn’t arrive until 8:00 pm. I gave her a warm reception and patted her to a deep sleep after dinner.

In the middle of the night, I opened the app and listened, but I was disappointed. She has been attending prayer sessions just to pray for our relationship. In one of the calls, I heard the Pastor warn her not to compromise her stand of no-sex until her prayers of 90 days were completed. To make it more shameful, she was praying for me. I have no job since I was done with the youth service. In another call was how she was telling a guy who was begging her for a date that she will never cheat on me despite my poor State. She was defending me like a mother would her child, and reminding them of how things will soon be okay for us. I was no doubt ashamed of myself.

The next day was a Saturday. I took some money and told her I wanted to get some bread. But the truth was, I went straight to the shopping mall and bought some things for her. I wanted to make it a surprise, she deserved it. I was ashamed of my evil thoughts towards her, and I realized I have been an idiot. I went to the store and got her the best my money could afford. But when I got back home to her, the story changed.

She has gone through my phone and had all the evidence about my affairs with Liza, the other girl. The stupid girl sent me sexts and naked pictures of herself and how she has missed me and to remember my promise of jilting Sade and marrying her. I met her in tears, with a friend of hers consoling her. Not to waste time, she ended it right there. After the futile attempts to ask for forgiveness failed, I set out back to Liza. Liza wasn’t a bad girl anyway, and settling with her instead of Sade wouldn’t be a bad idea.

I got to Liza’s place late into the night, around 11:00 pm, since Sade insisted I must leave that day. I knocked and the opening revealed a surprised Liza in her transparent nightgown. I knew she was surprised because of the time, so I simply pushed her inside and went in. I nearly fainted when I saw a snoring fat male sleeping naked on the bed. I looked at Liza with my mouth gaped, but she covered her own mouth and sank into her knees, pleading.

The next day, without much ado, I woke up right on the hospital bed!

*picture from www.lipstickalley.com

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