On the 18th I celebrated my 23rd birthday. It was my very first birthday abroad. Having a summer birthday has usually meant celebrating with my parents. But the last two years I celebrated at camp and this year I celebrated in the heat of Africa. I had very low expectations for what my birthday would look like here. I didn’t want to get my hopes up and then be disappointed (incase everyone forgot). It started out simply enough, Kerry wished me a happy birthday and I went to work.
When I got to school the teachers greeted me simply enough, a quick happy birthday and then back to work. But at ten o’clock precisely all the teachers in my special class (about five) got together to sing me happy birthday and present me with gifts. The gifts were a large bouquet of plastic orange roses and a packet of biscuits (the Nigerian equivalent of unsweetened cookies). They started singing in Igbo and dancing the lovely and simple dance that Nigerians dance. It isn’t a dance of many moves, but it is beautiful in its simplicity and its beat. The song they sang in Igbo Oriya obuna metu ibe ya aka si ya. Ahurum gi na-nya ibu onye uwa oma . ahuru gin a-nya. Vivian, one of the teachers in my class loosely translated this as “In order to show our love for you, we should all come up and touch you”. As they sang these words, true to the lyrics every single person in the class came up and touched me. It was quite powerful really, being sung to by 30 or so Autistic and Downs Syndrome children. After the class presentation/celebration, the director, Hildegard came into the class with a basket (made by the children at the workshop) filled with even more biscuits and followed by even more teachers. At this point, there were maybe 50 people crammed into the classroom, singing to me and helping me celebrate my birthday.
I got home completely surprised and satisfied by the love that had been shown to me. But it was not finished, not at all. Kerry had stayed home from work this day and in her time planned an amazing scavenger hunt for me. The Nancy Drew Game it was called and had me search all around the compound (helped by certain clues of course) for my gifts. The first clue led me outside to the palm tree, where my second clue was waiting for me. The second clue let me upstairs to the bathroom, where a bottle of Kerry and my favorite wine (in Nigeria) was sitting in bucket. The third clue led me under Kerry’s pillow where a bottle of ground nuts (mmmm my favorite!) was hiding. Number four led me to the scale out in the living room (you see, the Nigerians have this really FLATTERING way of calling me fat as often as they can) where yet another bottle of wine was waiting. One for me, one for her! The fifth clue, which kindly calmed my fears about being fat, led me to the mango trees outside where an imaginary gift from Sebas was waiting. The next clue led me to the fridge and then again to the pantry where a book about a disabled man lay. The seventh clue led me outdoors again, to the clothesline, where a beautiful brass bracelet was hanging. Finally, the last clue led me to the amazing Nigerian birthday card. The thing about Nigerian cards is… they are tacky and strange. “Cheer up, it’s your birthday” it said. And inside, “Because you are special and kind, today will be the beginning of a ceaseless raining of favour over your head! You shall receive in abundance whatever you ask for from God as from today and evermore!” Wow. See what I mean? I am glad to see that from now on, my 23rd birthday, I will get everything I ever wanted! Kerry and I celebrated later that week by drinking the wine and eating the ground nuts. It was a good day.
The 22nd was the final day of celebrations for the birthday. I went downstairs for lunch and everyone gathered to eat. After the sisters prayed, they sang me happy birthday, followed by a chorus of ‘How old are you now?’ and ‘Many more years to come’. When it came time to cut the cake the sisters sang the Swahili song Malaika to me. I wish I could accurately describe these sisters when they are in birthday mode; they are very funny and creative. They also presented me with a gift of beautiful Nigerian fabric and yes, more groundnuts! Annette turned to Kerry and said, “I expect we won’t be seeing much of those”. That is because we will eat them all, in a record breaking short period of time.
So it was my 23rd birthday, and while I didn’t spend it in Minnesota with my stateside family and friends, I did get to spend it with my Nigerian family and friends, and it couldn’t have been better. I am lucky to be in such an amazing place and celebrating with such amazing and creative people, who clearly love me.
Daalu!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
The funny thing about Africa is…
The diseases you get. Really it isn’t so funny. I have Malaria and Typhoid. Let me just start at the beginning.
First of all, I probably deserve this, because Kerry is eternally getting bit by mosquitoes. Any time of the day I can look over at her and she will be swatting furiously at some little winged creatures. I always laugh, rather cruelly, to be honest, that it is her and not me. The mosquitoes don’t even bother with me. Then we laugh and joke about how Nigeria is so mean to her, with the mosquitoes, mango mouth and heat rash. I have even been so bold as to say, “You will probably get malaria at least once, while I will be malaria free!” I am sure you would agree that I have jinxed myself.
This whole scene has been happening for months now. But add to it the multiplying fatigue and headaches and I was starting to feel a bit run down. Finally, on Thursday, I called my boss and told her I was sick and not coming into school. “Check for Malaria” was her reply. I didn’t. I thought, how could I possibly have malaria? I can count the number of times on one hand that I have been bitten. So I ignored her advice and went to sleep. O, it was not good. I had this pain all up and down my arms and legs, my head was splitting and I was so tired. I just lay in my bed and tried to escape the misery. Half way through the day there was a knock on the door. It was one of the sisters, mad at me that I didn’t tell them I was not feeling well. I described what I was feeling and I saw her lips turn into a thin line. “You have malaria”, she said. Later that afternoon I was escorted to the hospital for a blood test. I also decided to have the typhoid test too, just to be sure.
The next day I went back for my results and sure enough I have them both! I came back to the house, armed with several different kinds of antibiotics to combat the diseases. Now I am taking about a dozen pills a day, and getting better. People keep freaking out about my ‘diseases’. I don’t know why I am putting that in quotations, because I do have ‘diseases’. I guess it just feels funny to call them ‘diseases’. But the truth of the matter is this: I have malaria and typhoid. But I am in no way in danger. I was lucky to have been tested early on while the bacteria were young. I have not suffered most of the awful symptoms that people associate with malaria and typhoid: high fevers, nausea, chills ect. I am just a bit tired, and if I exert myself too much I tend to have a headache and need a nap. Hopefully I will be back to my old self in no time.
Actually, in a little side note… My worrying mother emailed Kerry to ask “How is she, really”? Kerry in her response noted that at that very moment I was sitting in front of my closet, exclaiming in English and Spanish that I couldn’t find my razors. So that is an indication that I must be ok…
To sum it all up, I had a note on my bed from Kerry yesterday: ‘Congratulations on your African Baptism’ it said. You haven’t really experienced Africa till you have malaria and/or typhoid. At least that’s what people tell me.
First of all, I probably deserve this, because Kerry is eternally getting bit by mosquitoes. Any time of the day I can look over at her and she will be swatting furiously at some little winged creatures. I always laugh, rather cruelly, to be honest, that it is her and not me. The mosquitoes don’t even bother with me. Then we laugh and joke about how Nigeria is so mean to her, with the mosquitoes, mango mouth and heat rash. I have even been so bold as to say, “You will probably get malaria at least once, while I will be malaria free!” I am sure you would agree that I have jinxed myself.
This whole scene has been happening for months now. But add to it the multiplying fatigue and headaches and I was starting to feel a bit run down. Finally, on Thursday, I called my boss and told her I was sick and not coming into school. “Check for Malaria” was her reply. I didn’t. I thought, how could I possibly have malaria? I can count the number of times on one hand that I have been bitten. So I ignored her advice and went to sleep. O, it was not good. I had this pain all up and down my arms and legs, my head was splitting and I was so tired. I just lay in my bed and tried to escape the misery. Half way through the day there was a knock on the door. It was one of the sisters, mad at me that I didn’t tell them I was not feeling well. I described what I was feeling and I saw her lips turn into a thin line. “You have malaria”, she said. Later that afternoon I was escorted to the hospital for a blood test. I also decided to have the typhoid test too, just to be sure.
The next day I went back for my results and sure enough I have them both! I came back to the house, armed with several different kinds of antibiotics to combat the diseases. Now I am taking about a dozen pills a day, and getting better. People keep freaking out about my ‘diseases’. I don’t know why I am putting that in quotations, because I do have ‘diseases’. I guess it just feels funny to call them ‘diseases’. But the truth of the matter is this: I have malaria and typhoid. But I am in no way in danger. I was lucky to have been tested early on while the bacteria were young. I have not suffered most of the awful symptoms that people associate with malaria and typhoid: high fevers, nausea, chills ect. I am just a bit tired, and if I exert myself too much I tend to have a headache and need a nap. Hopefully I will be back to my old self in no time.
Actually, in a little side note… My worrying mother emailed Kerry to ask “How is she, really”? Kerry in her response noted that at that very moment I was sitting in front of my closet, exclaiming in English and Spanish that I couldn’t find my razors. So that is an indication that I must be ok…
To sum it all up, I had a note on my bed from Kerry yesterday: ‘Congratulations on your African Baptism’ it said. You haven’t really experienced Africa till you have malaria and/or typhoid. At least that’s what people tell me.
You know you’re in Nigeria when…
I have been thinking a lot lately what my family and friends would find odd or even scary in Nigeria. So I decided to create a list. These are all things I have gotten used to over the course of the last few months, so they no longer seem bizarre. But to other people, they just might.
You know you’re in Nigeria when…
A small bus meant to hold 12 people actually holds about 20.
When the electricity turns off randomly, everyone simultaneously shouts ‘NEPA!’ (Usually accompanied by shaking fists, at least with Kerry and I)
The rooster starts crowing by about 3 am. Whoever said they start when the sun comes up was lying.
You respond when people call out ‘Sister’ (As in Reverend Sister…)
You hear about 50 people a day calling Nyacha. When that doesn’t get your attention they shout Oibo. If that also fails, they yell White!
You will get in the car with most strangers, since they already seem to know who you are, your phone number, where you live, where you work and who your ‘sister’ is (And all of her information as well).
You no longer find it strange to find whole animals in food. Usually it is a chicken or fish, but it has been known to be a goat head or something.
The torrential rains can start and stop at any moment. One minute the sun will be shining, the next it will be hurricane season in Nigeria. Soon after that, it will be 90 degrees again.
With in a few minutes of getting asked out, or asked for your number, you are then proposed to. Usually this happens to Kerry. As she is ‘unattached’, she can accept numbers and such. I think I am better at being aloof (or rude, depending on how you look at it). As her mothers asked one day, “Is Malika doing a better job of behaving herself than you?’
You dream about the day you will be able to wear long pants again, or even better, a jacket…
You realize that you don’t remember the last time you showered.
You can walk out the front door and pick oranges, avocados and mangoes right off the tree.
You know you’re in Nigeria when…
A small bus meant to hold 12 people actually holds about 20.
When the electricity turns off randomly, everyone simultaneously shouts ‘NEPA!’ (Usually accompanied by shaking fists, at least with Kerry and I)
The rooster starts crowing by about 3 am. Whoever said they start when the sun comes up was lying.
You respond when people call out ‘Sister’ (As in Reverend Sister…)
You hear about 50 people a day calling Nyacha. When that doesn’t get your attention they shout Oibo. If that also fails, they yell White!
You will get in the car with most strangers, since they already seem to know who you are, your phone number, where you live, where you work and who your ‘sister’ is (And all of her information as well).
You no longer find it strange to find whole animals in food. Usually it is a chicken or fish, but it has been known to be a goat head or something.
The torrential rains can start and stop at any moment. One minute the sun will be shining, the next it will be hurricane season in Nigeria. Soon after that, it will be 90 degrees again.
With in a few minutes of getting asked out, or asked for your number, you are then proposed to. Usually this happens to Kerry. As she is ‘unattached’, she can accept numbers and such. I think I am better at being aloof (or rude, depending on how you look at it). As her mothers asked one day, “Is Malika doing a better job of behaving herself than you?’
You dream about the day you will be able to wear long pants again, or even better, a jacket…
You realize that you don’t remember the last time you showered.
You can walk out the front door and pick oranges, avocados and mangoes right off the tree.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Fridays in Awkunanaw
Every Friday, Kerry and I go to Awkunanaw. We really love it there, and miss it since we have moved to the Nwodo community. Here is what a Friday looks like for me.
My alarm goes off at 5:50 am on Friday morning. I roll out of bed and dress, eat some food and get ready to catch the bus. By 6:20, Kerry and I are walking out the door. We walk to the bus stop and wait with the hordes of other people hoping to go to the village. A small bus rolls to a stop in front of us, calling La-out, La-out, Garicky! (This is translates to New Layout aka the bus we need to take to Awkunanaw) Everyone crowds around the bus. By the time we are all in, there are about 20 people in a bus designed to hold 12. On a good day the bus will not fall apart (though some days it is unavoidable... Ask me someday about the day when the seat broke and the door fell off. The conductor then put the door on top of the bus.). Nigerian roads leave something to be desired, so imagine with every bump in the road, comes a bump on our heads. After about 45 minutes or so, along unimaginable roads, we ask the conductor to pull over and let us out. We hand over about 60 Naira (the equivolent of about 50 cents)and start to walk to school. From where the bus drops us off we should have a 15 minute walk to Notre Dame school. But usually a random car, filled with our students) will pull over and give us a lift the rest of the way.
At school I work in the Nursery Library, tutoring kids and testing them on their reading and English skills. When I am not in the library, I try to go to some classrooms and help out. At noon, I meet with the kids of primary 4A and sing with them. It is a highlight of my week here. We sing for about an hour, and they love it! Right now we have mastered 'Lean on Me', and we are working on 'Seasons of Love' and 'The Hokey Pokey'. They even sang 'Happy Birthday' on the phone to my cousin Grace a few weeks ago. They were so excited to talk on the phone to America.
One little girl, Chidemma, is a love and a dear. She is the most amazing girl I have met here! Everyday, she comes and hugs me, often handing me notes. She is always well behaved, for me and Kerry, who is teaching English. She will often scold the little miscreants in the class, and then apologize profusely for them later. She is the light of my life! School ends at 1:30. The children run around and hug us and say goodbye, always hoping we will come back on Monday instead of Friday.
My alarm goes off at 5:50 am on Friday morning. I roll out of bed and dress, eat some food and get ready to catch the bus. By 6:20, Kerry and I are walking out the door. We walk to the bus stop and wait with the hordes of other people hoping to go to the village. A small bus rolls to a stop in front of us, calling La-out, La-out, Garicky! (This is translates to New Layout aka the bus we need to take to Awkunanaw) Everyone crowds around the bus. By the time we are all in, there are about 20 people in a bus designed to hold 12. On a good day the bus will not fall apart (though some days it is unavoidable... Ask me someday about the day when the seat broke and the door fell off. The conductor then put the door on top of the bus.). Nigerian roads leave something to be desired, so imagine with every bump in the road, comes a bump on our heads. After about 45 minutes or so, along unimaginable roads, we ask the conductor to pull over and let us out. We hand over about 60 Naira (the equivolent of about 50 cents)and start to walk to school. From where the bus drops us off we should have a 15 minute walk to Notre Dame school. But usually a random car, filled with our students) will pull over and give us a lift the rest of the way.
At school I work in the Nursery Library, tutoring kids and testing them on their reading and English skills. When I am not in the library, I try to go to some classrooms and help out. At noon, I meet with the kids of primary 4A and sing with them. It is a highlight of my week here. We sing for about an hour, and they love it! Right now we have mastered 'Lean on Me', and we are working on 'Seasons of Love' and 'The Hokey Pokey'. They even sang 'Happy Birthday' on the phone to my cousin Grace a few weeks ago. They were so excited to talk on the phone to America.
One little girl, Chidemma, is a love and a dear. She is the most amazing girl I have met here! Everyday, she comes and hugs me, often handing me notes. She is always well behaved, for me and Kerry, who is teaching English. She will often scold the little miscreants in the class, and then apologize profusely for them later. She is the light of my life! School ends at 1:30. The children run around and hug us and say goodbye, always hoping we will come back on Monday instead of Friday.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Arinze
I split my time at the Therapeutic Day Care Center between the school, working in the therapy hall, the nursery class for special needs children and the workshop and vocational school down the road. While I have spent almost three weeks at this school, today was my first day at the workshop. There are about a 100 young people that work here. They are graduates of the primary school and have been allowed to continue on to the vocational school to be taught a trade. The hope is, that they will learn a trade (such as carpentry, batik making, sewing, weaving, hairdressing or other various skills) and be able to use these skills to make a living. Some day, becoming self sufficient. I am going to be devoting a large chunk of my time at the workshop to a young man with Autism named Arinze.
Arinze has a sad history. When he was young, his parents were interested in bringing him to this school. The drove several hours, from another state, so he could meet Hildegard and enroll in the school. They, like most people, fell in love and decided he would go here. On the way home they were murdered, in front of Arinze’s very eyes. He lost both of his parents in the blink of an eye, and his two siblings were sent to Canada to live with family there. Arinze was left behind, with no one to care for him, as is often the case with disabled children in Nigeria. Somehow, through the charity and good will of Hildegard, a place was found for him and he started school in Enugu. Now he is 24 years old, and developing his skills as a tailor. The going is slow, but he like all the others here, shows great potential and keep improving.
To be quite honest, Arinze reminds me of the character from Office Space, the one with the stapler. He is very funny, and through out the day has made me laugh so many times. He is very verbal and doesn’t want to stop talking. He is so afraid of losing my attention that he is constantly tapping my arm, for fear I will go somewhere else.
I worked with him for five hours today and this was the extent of our conversation,
“Auntie, I really like school. For Arinze is a hard working boy. Arinze is the hardest working boy here. Auntie headmis (the headmistress) says that she will get me some more sewing materials because I am such a hardworking boy. I came back from the holiday yesterday. I am so happy to be back in school, because I love it and Arinze is a hardworking boy. I love to sew. I want another pocket on this shirt I am sewing, can I have more pockets?”
Me: “Arinze, if there is time, we can start on another pocket.”
Arinze: “Ok. (pause) Is there time? Auntie, I want to teach you to sew because I like your watch. Arinze is the hardest working boy.”
Now add a dozen pokes and multiply the conversation by five hours and mix it around a little bit. That was my time spent with Arinze. One might think that I would not enjoy such time spent with this man, but he was hilarious! I think that such people have a lot to give to the rest of us. I am excited to spend more time with him.
Arinze has a sad history. When he was young, his parents were interested in bringing him to this school. The drove several hours, from another state, so he could meet Hildegard and enroll in the school. They, like most people, fell in love and decided he would go here. On the way home they were murdered, in front of Arinze’s very eyes. He lost both of his parents in the blink of an eye, and his two siblings were sent to Canada to live with family there. Arinze was left behind, with no one to care for him, as is often the case with disabled children in Nigeria. Somehow, through the charity and good will of Hildegard, a place was found for him and he started school in Enugu. Now he is 24 years old, and developing his skills as a tailor. The going is slow, but he like all the others here, shows great potential and keep improving.
To be quite honest, Arinze reminds me of the character from Office Space, the one with the stapler. He is very funny, and through out the day has made me laugh so many times. He is very verbal and doesn’t want to stop talking. He is so afraid of losing my attention that he is constantly tapping my arm, for fear I will go somewhere else.
I worked with him for five hours today and this was the extent of our conversation,
“Auntie, I really like school. For Arinze is a hard working boy. Arinze is the hardest working boy here. Auntie headmis (the headmistress) says that she will get me some more sewing materials because I am such a hardworking boy. I came back from the holiday yesterday. I am so happy to be back in school, because I love it and Arinze is a hardworking boy. I love to sew. I want another pocket on this shirt I am sewing, can I have more pockets?”
Me: “Arinze, if there is time, we can start on another pocket.”
Arinze: “Ok. (pause) Is there time? Auntie, I want to teach you to sew because I like your watch. Arinze is the hardest working boy.”
Now add a dozen pokes and multiply the conversation by five hours and mix it around a little bit. That was my time spent with Arinze. One might think that I would not enjoy such time spent with this man, but he was hilarious! I think that such people have a lot to give to the rest of us. I am excited to spend more time with him.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Mail from home!
I was the happy recipient of a letter yesterday! Thanks Grandma for sending me my first piece of mail... I was so happy to get it.
Just in case any of you are ITCHING to send me some, (hint hint)I will post my address again here.
Malika Heiller
Sisters of Notre Dame
14 John Nwodo Close G.R.A
PO box 3777
Enugu, NIGERIA
If you are interested in sending packages, the best way would be to send in the small padded envelopes, under 5 pounds or so.
I hope everyone is well, I miss you tons, and Thanks again Grandma!
Just in case any of you are ITCHING to send me some, (hint hint)I will post my address again here.
Malika Heiller
Sisters of Notre Dame
14 John Nwodo Close G.R.A
PO box 3777
Enugu, NIGERIA
If you are interested in sending packages, the best way would be to send in the small padded envelopes, under 5 pounds or so.
I hope everyone is well, I miss you tons, and Thanks again Grandma!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
A trip to Awkunanaw River
While Kerry and I were exploring the market on Wednesday, I received phone call from my German friend Anna, asking if we would like to go on a trip to the river with her and some friends. We immediately said yes, because Kerry, like me, has spent her entire life near the water, and it is hard for us to be away from it. We also will take any excuse to hang out with other people, and it is a bonus if they are Nyacha… So we said yes with excitement and looked forward to seeing them the next day.
They asked us to meet them at their house the next morning by nine, and we were trying to figure out how to do this, because Kerry has a rule: she will not get on an okada. I respect her rule, so we decided the only other way to get there would by on foot. When we got back from the market, we realized Christopher, the driver employed by the sisters, was at the house. This surprised us because we thought he was away for the week. So I casually dropped into the conversation that we would walk to Ofuobe (a center near the house) the next morning for an outing. I planned this carefully, and I knew exactly what would happen next. Chris’s eyes got wide and he exclaimed, “That’s impossible!” For being such a fit and healthy country, Nigerians hate walking. In my short experience here, they would rather take a dangerous okada or a small bus packed with 25 people than walk for 30 minutes. Both Kerry and I love to walk, so it has been difficult convincing people that we can walk and still be safe AND not die from exhaustion. As I expected, my plan worked perfectly, and Chris not only volunteered to take us, he insisted. We were glad, it would have been a very long walk, and we didn’t really know where we were going.
We arrived at the house (it is Hildegard’s house, she owns the Therapeutic Day Care Center. Anna, Melanie and Laura also live there) and Anna was standing outside the gate with nothing but her wrapper on, wrapped tightly around her torso. Chris’s eyes went wide as if saying, “This is who you are hanging out with? You better not come home dressed like that…” She explained the reason for the garb was because she wouldn’t be joining us on our trek.
She showed us where Hildegard was waiting, and she was so excited! She made sure our shoes were water proof, we had sun screen on and had enough water, because according to her, “it is a nice trek”. Kerry and I perked at those words, because, you guessed it, we like to walk. Melanie and Laura joined us at the car and we set off for the river.
Surprisingly, the river was actually quite close to where Kerry and I were staying previously (hence the name Awkunanaw River…), and we were bummed we didn’t know about it before. We drove through a village and passed the nomadic people of the area, called Fulanese. They were dressed in brightly colored wrappers around their waists, and had nothing covering their chests. There hair was different from the styles I had seen before, and their facial features were more severe, with tribal marks on them. They were all carrying huge amounts of water or rocks on their heads as they walked from the river. When we pulled up next to the river, I was so struck by the beauty of it. It was mostly dried up, because rainy season hasn’t really gotten going yet. But there was some water in it. The hills surrounding it knocked me over, the magnitude of the beauty was frankly, overpowering. We walked in the river bed, the feeling of the sand and water between my toes was too much, I simply wanted to lie in the river forever. We trekked for about 30 minutes, and passed many people collecting water and rocks to sell. There were grass huts in small formations along the side of the river, where the Fulanese lived. Finally, we climbed out of the river and put our shoes on again, walking into the woods. We hiked for a few minutes before I saw a small lake through a clearing. It was small, but it was enough to convince me that I need to live near water someday. It was lovely just to sit next to the water. Hildegard told us that there are crocodiles that live in the lake (She was with her husband and children and dog. The dog was swimming and she saw the crocks coming slowly through the water towards them. The dog was rescued with out any injuries…) But I didn’t seen them, which bummed me out! I would love to see a crocodile, from a distance that is…
We stayed there for a while, before heading back to the car. We stopped on the way for snacks and a water break. On the way back, we collected rocks for the school. There is a certain type that is good for chalk. So we all carried rocks with us, waving at the children and women in the stream.
Now I am back, sitting on my bed, thanking God that NEPA is finally on, and feeling very hot. I was also sunburned today, despite my repeated latherings of sunscreen. I try, I really do… I hope to go back again soon.
While Kerry and I were exploring the market on Wednesday, I received phone call from my German friend Anna, asking if we would like to go on a trip to the river with her and some friends. We immediately said yes, because Kerry, like me, has spent her entire life near the water, and it is hard for us to be away from it. We also will take any excuse to hang out with other people, and it is a bonus if they are Nyacha… So we said yes with excitement and looked forward to seeing them the next day.
They asked us to meet them at their house the next morning by nine, and we were trying to figure out how to do this, because Kerry has a rule: she will not get on an okada. I respect her rule, so we decided the only other way to get there would by on foot. When we got back from the market, we realized Christopher, the driver employed by the sisters, was at the house. This surprised us because we thought he was away for the week. So I casually dropped into the conversation that we would walk to Ofuobe (a center near the house) the next morning for an outing. I planned this carefully, and I knew exactly what would happen next. Chris’s eyes got wide and he exclaimed, “That’s impossible!” For being such a fit and healthy country, Nigerians hate walking. In my short experience here, they would rather take a dangerous okada or a small bus packed with 25 people than walk for 30 minutes. Both Kerry and I love to walk, so it has been difficult convincing people that we can walk and still be safe AND not die from exhaustion. As I expected, my plan worked perfectly, and Chris not only volunteered to take us, he insisted. We were glad, it would have been a very long walk, and we didn’t really know where we were going.
We arrived at the house (it is Hildegard’s house, she owns the Therapeutic Day Care Center. Anna, Melanie and Laura also live there) and Anna was standing outside the gate with nothing but her wrapper on, wrapped tightly around her torso. Chris’s eyes went wide as if saying, “This is who you are hanging out with? You better not come home dressed like that…” She explained the reason for the garb was because she wouldn’t be joining us on our trek.
She showed us where Hildegard was waiting, and she was so excited! She made sure our shoes were water proof, we had sun screen on and had enough water, because according to her, “it is a nice trek”. Kerry and I perked at those words, because, you guessed it, we like to walk. Melanie and Laura joined us at the car and we set off for the river.
Surprisingly, the river was actually quite close to where Kerry and I were staying previously (hence the name Awkunanaw River…), and we were bummed we didn’t know about it before. We drove through a village and passed the nomadic people of the area, called Fulanese. They were dressed in brightly colored wrappers around their waists, and had nothing covering their chests. There hair was different from the styles I had seen before, and their facial features were more severe, with tribal marks on them. They were all carrying huge amounts of water or rocks on their heads as they walked from the river. When we pulled up next to the river, I was so struck by the beauty of it. It was mostly dried up, because rainy season hasn’t really gotten going yet. But there was some water in it. The hills surrounding it knocked me over, the magnitude of the beauty was frankly, overpowering. We walked in the river bed, the feeling of the sand and water between my toes was too much, I simply wanted to lie in the river forever. We trekked for about 30 minutes, and passed many people collecting water and rocks to sell. There were grass huts in small formations along the side of the river, where the Fulanese lived. Finally, we climbed out of the river and put our shoes on again, walking into the woods. We hiked for a few minutes before I saw a small lake through a clearing. It was small, but it was enough to convince me that I need to live near water someday. It was lovely just to sit next to the water. Hildegard told us that there are crocodiles that live in the lake (She was with her husband and children and dog. The dog was swimming and she saw the crocks coming slowly through the water towards them. The dog was rescued with out any injuries…) But I didn’t seen them, which bummed me out! I would love to see a crocodile, from a distance that is…
We stayed there for a while, before heading back to the car. We stopped on the way for snacks and a water break. On the way back, we collected rocks for the school. There is a certain type that is good for chalk. So we all carried rocks with us, waving at the children and women in the stream.
Now I am back, sitting on my bed, thanking God that NEPA is finally on, and feeling very hot. I was also sunburned today, despite my repeated latherings of sunscreen. I try, I really do… I hope to go back again soon.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Where did I come from? What made me who I am? Was it some genetic code or was there some divine plan hatched at the mention of me, somewhere is God’s vast expanse of a mind. Was it my parents’ constant, never wavering flow of love and support? Was it the years of rejection and betrayal that I suffered at the hands of mean middle school and high school kids? Was it the music, the solace I found in the arts, the traveling? Was it all of the above?
A friend wrote on my facebook wall the other day, “You're living in Nigeria now? Man it's like you've lived 5 lives, and I'm still working on my first”. What an amazing and wonderful thing to say to me, really. How did I come to be here at all? When I was born did my parents have any idea of who I would someday be, of the hardships I would endure, or the triumphs I would have? Could they possibly imagine who I would be?
I remember a tearful conversation with my mom back in December. We were in the car, and began talking about those awful moments in my life, what seemed like never ceasing darkness. She explained how awful they were for me, but also her. It broke her heart everyday to see me hurt and in pain. I had never begun to think about how my pain could be somebody else’s.
It seems so sad now, that I didn’t know how loved I was and how that thought seemed so silly. “I am not anything special; anyone who thinks that really just is ignorant.” Marianne Williamson has her quote on the top of this page, and it is true. Who am I not to be all of these amazing things?
As I am sitting on my bed writing this I am thinking specifically about two amazing women, bright souls who I don’t think can comprehend their beauty. The first, how can she exude such brilliance, such confidence and beauty but not truly believe it? How can she be surrounded by so many people who love her, and tell her constantly, and think it cannot possibly be true? I can’t comprehend her not knowing what a light she is to others, and what amazing work she does for the world.
The second woman is continents away, yet I think about her all the time, multiple times everyday. She has perhaps struggled more in her life than anyone I know, felt more pain than I can imagine (and I have seen some pain). She has fought and survived. I mean she has really thrived! She everyday keeps working to become in her mind what everyone around her knows she already is. She finally has become aware of her wings, and oh how beautiful they are!
I am getting so emotional right now, thinking about these women, full of sadness that their self esteem would ever be low, not knowing how truly captivating they are; but I am so proud of them, who they are becoming.
I know this all seems so esoteric and far away. Why I am even thinking about this, I am in Nigeria! But really, what a better place to soul search? I finished a book by Elizabeth Gilbert called “Eat, Pray, Love”, about a woman’s search for herself through traveling. It definitely struck chords within me; there were so many parallels between us. I suppose most people could read that book and find themselves within the pages, but I really felt like I was reading about some of my own struggles.
And now I am in Nigeria. Kerry is sitting across from me, a beacon of light so bright I feel like I cannot possibly begin to describe her. And I watch Grace, from afar, who everyday lives up to her name. Her growing talents and compassion impress me always. Thank you, ladies, for your light inspires me.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate
A friend wrote on my facebook wall the other day, “You're living in Nigeria now? Man it's like you've lived 5 lives, and I'm still working on my first”. What an amazing and wonderful thing to say to me, really. How did I come to be here at all? When I was born did my parents have any idea of who I would someday be, of the hardships I would endure, or the triumphs I would have? Could they possibly imagine who I would be?
I remember a tearful conversation with my mom back in December. We were in the car, and began talking about those awful moments in my life, what seemed like never ceasing darkness. She explained how awful they were for me, but also her. It broke her heart everyday to see me hurt and in pain. I had never begun to think about how my pain could be somebody else’s.
It seems so sad now, that I didn’t know how loved I was and how that thought seemed so silly. “I am not anything special; anyone who thinks that really just is ignorant.” Marianne Williamson has her quote on the top of this page, and it is true. Who am I not to be all of these amazing things?
As I am sitting on my bed writing this I am thinking specifically about two amazing women, bright souls who I don’t think can comprehend their beauty. The first, how can she exude such brilliance, such confidence and beauty but not truly believe it? How can she be surrounded by so many people who love her, and tell her constantly, and think it cannot possibly be true? I can’t comprehend her not knowing what a light she is to others, and what amazing work she does for the world.
The second woman is continents away, yet I think about her all the time, multiple times everyday. She has perhaps struggled more in her life than anyone I know, felt more pain than I can imagine (and I have seen some pain). She has fought and survived. I mean she has really thrived! She everyday keeps working to become in her mind what everyone around her knows she already is. She finally has become aware of her wings, and oh how beautiful they are!
I am getting so emotional right now, thinking about these women, full of sadness that their self esteem would ever be low, not knowing how truly captivating they are; but I am so proud of them, who they are becoming.
I know this all seems so esoteric and far away. Why I am even thinking about this, I am in Nigeria! But really, what a better place to soul search? I finished a book by Elizabeth Gilbert called “Eat, Pray, Love”, about a woman’s search for herself through traveling. It definitely struck chords within me; there were so many parallels between us. I suppose most people could read that book and find themselves within the pages, but I really felt like I was reading about some of my own struggles.
And now I am in Nigeria. Kerry is sitting across from me, a beacon of light so bright I feel like I cannot possibly begin to describe her. And I watch Grace, from afar, who everyday lives up to her name. Her growing talents and compassion impress me always. Thank you, ladies, for your light inspires me.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
My First Okada Experience
I apprehensively swung my legs around the seat of the motorcycle, putting my hands on the bar beside me. Melanie and Anna were finalizing the price of the ride, 20 Naira for the short distance. The others drivers concurred that the Nyacha knew what an okada would cost and decided to take us along. Melanie and Anna are my two new German friends and work with me at the Therapeutic Day Care Center in Abapka, Enugu. They have both been here for about 5 months, and know their way around. The traffic here is insane; there are no signs, lines in the road or any road safety or regulations at all. There are hundreds of these okadas, motorcycles, everywhere. No one wears helmets and they skirt in and out of traffic. The okada drivers revved their engines and the vehicles sprang to life, speeding down the busy Nigerian streets. They weaved in and out of traffic, honking their horns and slowing for the occasional speed bump. As we sped along the road we saw many Nigerians stop and point, calling ‘nyacha, nyacha’ as we passed. Nyachas are a rare site here. To see three atop motorcycles was even rarer indeed. I have seen some amazingly talented drivers here, along with the terrible. Okadas carry up to five people on them and anyone with a motorcycle can basically start his own business of taxiing people around. I have seen the okada passengers carry mattresses, lumber, buckets of goods and even metal building materials atop their heads while speeding down the street at 60 miles an hour. The okada pulled over to the side of the road, dropping us at the end of our street. With shaky legs I hopped off, thankful that the ride was over, but exhilarated none the less. I had vowed I would never ride one, and I guess I just proved myself wrong.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Glorious Rain
It rained, it rained! I was lying in my bed when the winds picked up and everything outside went crazy, from the crickets to the chickens. Then in an instant I heard the pitter patter on the tin roof, a sound only produced by one thing: amazing rain. Kerry and I looked up at the same time, “Is that rain?” she asked. I nodded and we ran to the window. Sure enough, tiny droplets, few and far between, were hitting the ground outside us. We whooped and hollered and ran into the courtyard dancing. Oh, how I have missed rain. Before we knew it, it started to downpour, and Sr. Ifeoma and Sr. Helena had taken their buckets from their rooms and were filling up on water. Everyone was so excited, and who can blame them? They haven’t had rain for months! It was glorious, the temperature dropped, the weather is cool, the rain smells like dirt (all the sand from the Harrmattan has begun to get washed out of the sky), and NEPA is on. My night couldn’t be better.
A New Start
I am starting my new job on Monday. I am so excited to share what I will be doing. When I told Sr. Amarachi that I had a background in working with people with disabilities, she got excited, because she used to work at an organization of that nature. She made a few phone calls, and with in a few hours, Viola! I was in!
I went to go see the place the other day. It is called the Therapeutic Day Center and is a school for the disabled (all kinds). There is also a vocational center for the ones who are old enough to learn trades so they can work. It is run by a German woman named Hildegard, who married a Nigerian man many years ago. She has been running this place for at least 20 years. It was amazing to see the kind of work she is doing there. Here are kids, (550 of them!) some who have been abandoned, with hearing and speech disabilities, Downs Syndrome, Autism, Cerebral Palsy, and countless other kinds of disabilities. She provides a loving environment for them to learn. There is a whole staff of specialists that work there, and everyone is trying to give these kids what they deserve.
The teaching style is great, small class sizes, lots of visual aides and props. There are also quite a few unimpaired children scattered among the disabled, to provide an aspect of integration. The atmosphere was startling, and quite touching.
There are two volunteers there right now from Germany, but they are leaving before June. Hildegard was adamant that the volunteers are free to do what they wish, pick an area they wish to develop or focus, and do it. Melanie, one of the German volunteers who leave April 1st, was so excited to have me start. She wants to show me what she has been working on for the last few months, and is hoping I will take it over. When Hildegard heard that, she again reassured me that I can do whatever I feel needs to be done. If I do like what Melanie is doing, I may keep it up, because there is definitely something to be said for continuity. I don’t feel pressured though, and that is a relief.
Something that interested me while I was working in my group home in Minnesota was the use of sensory props for people with Autism or Autistic tendencies. Often, people will use these props (balls, weighted jackets, shaving cream, tight wrappers, and swings) as a form of therapy. As I was taking a tour around the compound I noticed some of these props in a room, and remembered how much I loved doing that.
All in all, I am so excited to begin my new work; I hope that it is as fulfilling and exciting as it looks like it will be.
I went to go see the place the other day. It is called the Therapeutic Day Center and is a school for the disabled (all kinds). There is also a vocational center for the ones who are old enough to learn trades so they can work. It is run by a German woman named Hildegard, who married a Nigerian man many years ago. She has been running this place for at least 20 years. It was amazing to see the kind of work she is doing there. Here are kids, (550 of them!) some who have been abandoned, with hearing and speech disabilities, Downs Syndrome, Autism, Cerebral Palsy, and countless other kinds of disabilities. She provides a loving environment for them to learn. There is a whole staff of specialists that work there, and everyone is trying to give these kids what they deserve.
The teaching style is great, small class sizes, lots of visual aides and props. There are also quite a few unimpaired children scattered among the disabled, to provide an aspect of integration. The atmosphere was startling, and quite touching.
There are two volunteers there right now from Germany, but they are leaving before June. Hildegard was adamant that the volunteers are free to do what they wish, pick an area they wish to develop or focus, and do it. Melanie, one of the German volunteers who leave April 1st, was so excited to have me start. She wants to show me what she has been working on for the last few months, and is hoping I will take it over. When Hildegard heard that, she again reassured me that I can do whatever I feel needs to be done. If I do like what Melanie is doing, I may keep it up, because there is definitely something to be said for continuity. I don’t feel pressured though, and that is a relief.
Something that interested me while I was working in my group home in Minnesota was the use of sensory props for people with Autism or Autistic tendencies. Often, people will use these props (balls, weighted jackets, shaving cream, tight wrappers, and swings) as a form of therapy. As I was taking a tour around the compound I noticed some of these props in a room, and remembered how much I loved doing that.
All in all, I am so excited to begin my new work; I hope that it is as fulfilling and exciting as it looks like it will be.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
It’s So Damn Hot
The heat has become stifling, unbearable and quite frankly, mean. NEPA has all but disappeared, so it makes matters all the more worse… I was listening to my ipod when I was reminded of a song written by my dear friend Natalie Fine Shapiro. It has become my mantra, my slogan for the weather here.
It’s so damn hot,
When will the temperature drop?
Where oh where’s the Minnesota cold to cool us all off.
If it were snowing right now I’d run out side and roll around,
But since it’s not,
Take the sheets out of the freezer,
And cool me down.
My body’s dripping with sweat,
My dress is soaked and stuck to my skin.
Will you please carry me to the nearest swimming pool and drop me in.
Below the water’s so wet,
I don’t think I’ll ever surface again.
Feel free to leave me, but if you need me,
I’ll be waiting in the deep end.
It’s so damn hot,
When will the temperature drop?
Where oh where’s the Minnesota cold to cool us all off.
If it were snowing right now I’d run out side and roll around,
But since it’s not,
Take the sheets out of the freezer,
And lay me down.
The sun is frying my brain,
My consciousness is starting to fade.
You people running around the lake have completely gone insane.
I’m gonna go find me some shade,
Drop to my knees and start praying for rain.
And if my prayers are ignored
I guess I’ll keep complaining.
It’s so damn hot,
When will the temperature drop?
Where oh where’s the Minnesota cold to cool us all off.
If it were snowing right now I’d run out side and roll around,
But since it’s not,
Take the sheets out of the freezer,
And lay me down.
I can’t breathe through all this humidity.
I can’t believe it’s only 97 degrees.
I think I need a drink before I faint baby please??
Fetch me a cold glass of Minute Made Lemonade,
Vitamin C guaranteed.
It’s so damn hot,
When will the temperature drop?
Where oh where’s the Minnesota cold to cool us all off.
If it were snowing right now I’d run out side and roll around,
But since it’s not,
Take the sheets out of the freezer,
And cool me down.
-Natalie Fine
Let me see if I can somehow describe how hot it is. By 7 am I am awake, and hoping that the heat will decide to stay away for the day. By 8 am I already have thin coating of sweat across my body. By 9 am I have put my second layer of deodorant on. By 2 pm, I have collapsed on my bed and started praying for NEPA to turn on the fan. By 3:30 pm any thoughts of leaving, therefore moving, have been abandoned for a better idea: lying around. By about 6:30 pm it starts to cool down and I can breathe again. By 8:30 pm I have taken my cold shower, am lying on my bed in my shorts and bra and hoping that the night stays cool, and grants me a peaceful slumber.
Can anyone tell me how hot it actually is? I am so curious… It would be hilarious if it was like 70 degrees.
It’s so damn hot,
When will the temperature drop?
Where oh where’s the Minnesota cold to cool us all off.
If it were snowing right now I’d run out side and roll around,
But since it’s not,
Take the sheets out of the freezer,
And cool me down.
My body’s dripping with sweat,
My dress is soaked and stuck to my skin.
Will you please carry me to the nearest swimming pool and drop me in.
Below the water’s so wet,
I don’t think I’ll ever surface again.
Feel free to leave me, but if you need me,
I’ll be waiting in the deep end.
It’s so damn hot,
When will the temperature drop?
Where oh where’s the Minnesota cold to cool us all off.
If it were snowing right now I’d run out side and roll around,
But since it’s not,
Take the sheets out of the freezer,
And lay me down.
The sun is frying my brain,
My consciousness is starting to fade.
You people running around the lake have completely gone insane.
I’m gonna go find me some shade,
Drop to my knees and start praying for rain.
And if my prayers are ignored
I guess I’ll keep complaining.
It’s so damn hot,
When will the temperature drop?
Where oh where’s the Minnesota cold to cool us all off.
If it were snowing right now I’d run out side and roll around,
But since it’s not,
Take the sheets out of the freezer,
And lay me down.
I can’t breathe through all this humidity.
I can’t believe it’s only 97 degrees.
I think I need a drink before I faint baby please??
Fetch me a cold glass of Minute Made Lemonade,
Vitamin C guaranteed.
It’s so damn hot,
When will the temperature drop?
Where oh where’s the Minnesota cold to cool us all off.
If it were snowing right now I’d run out side and roll around,
But since it’s not,
Take the sheets out of the freezer,
And cool me down.
-Natalie Fine
Let me see if I can somehow describe how hot it is. By 7 am I am awake, and hoping that the heat will decide to stay away for the day. By 8 am I already have thin coating of sweat across my body. By 9 am I have put my second layer of deodorant on. By 2 pm, I have collapsed on my bed and started praying for NEPA to turn on the fan. By 3:30 pm any thoughts of leaving, therefore moving, have been abandoned for a better idea: lying around. By about 6:30 pm it starts to cool down and I can breathe again. By 8:30 pm I have taken my cold shower, am lying on my bed in my shorts and bra and hoping that the night stays cool, and grants me a peaceful slumber.
Can anyone tell me how hot it actually is? I am so curious… It would be hilarious if it was like 70 degrees.
An ‘Alarming’ Situation
2/26/08
Kerry’s alarm clock began beeping at 5:32 am this morning. Usually Kerry gets it right away, and I don’t even hear it. But this morning was different as we had had a particularly bad night: hot, humid and no NEPA. When the beeping didn’t stop I began to wonder if it was my alarm going off instead of Kerry’s. So I picked up my alarm and held it close to my ear. The sound didn’t seem to be coming from there. So I put it down and closed my eyes. The alarm continued to sound. I picked my alarm up again and turned it off, thinking I must have been mistaken. But the sound kept coming! I was wondering if something was wrong with me. I continued to look at my alarm as if to will the sound to stop. Finally I realized that it wasn’t my alarm at all, but Kerry’s. My immediate reaction was this, “I wish I had a long stick to poke her with”. I really wanted to wake her up, but I was convinced that the only way to do that was by the use of a poking mechanism, not words… The concept of simply telling her to wake up never entered my mind. “If I had a stick, things would be so easy right now”, I thought. Suddenly, the alarm stopped. After about 5 minutes, Kerry got out of bed and started her morning routine. I went back to sleep. Later as I was regaling Kerry with this tale did I realize just how silly the whole thing was.
Kerry’s alarm clock began beeping at 5:32 am this morning. Usually Kerry gets it right away, and I don’t even hear it. But this morning was different as we had had a particularly bad night: hot, humid and no NEPA. When the beeping didn’t stop I began to wonder if it was my alarm going off instead of Kerry’s. So I picked up my alarm and held it close to my ear. The sound didn’t seem to be coming from there. So I put it down and closed my eyes. The alarm continued to sound. I picked my alarm up again and turned it off, thinking I must have been mistaken. But the sound kept coming! I was wondering if something was wrong with me. I continued to look at my alarm as if to will the sound to stop. Finally I realized that it wasn’t my alarm at all, but Kerry’s. My immediate reaction was this, “I wish I had a long stick to poke her with”. I really wanted to wake her up, but I was convinced that the only way to do that was by the use of a poking mechanism, not words… The concept of simply telling her to wake up never entered my mind. “If I had a stick, things would be so easy right now”, I thought. Suddenly, the alarm stopped. After about 5 minutes, Kerry got out of bed and started her morning routine. I went back to sleep. Later as I was regaling Kerry with this tale did I realize just how silly the whole thing was.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Hello Onyacha!
We had our first market experience on Saturday, and I think that the word Onyacha is permanently etched in my brain. It means white person, and it was shouted at me hundreds of times today from all directions. It was often accompanied with, “Welcome to Nigeria, the land of blessings”. We were definitely a sight to see today as we walked through the small walkways of vendors selling everything from fruit and vegetables, meat, shoes, toilet paper, clothes (both traditional and modern) and pirated music.
There were so many sights and smell all around me. I didn’t know where to look; all I could do was follow my Nigerian guide, who knew exactly what she was doing. I was so overwhelmed that I had a hard time saying anything, but Kerry was not so shy. Every time someone shouted “Hello Onyacha, welcome to Nigeria” she would laugh and say “Thank you!” They relished in her presence, and she relished in theirs.
The streets were very small, and I cannot even venture a guess to how big and expansive that market was. The sisters said we did not even see a fraction of it. But the small streets were filled with people pushing wheel barrows shouting “uzo!” at anyone in their way. The wheel barrow pushers were not going to stop, so if you got in the way, too bad for you. I almost got clipped once, as a wheel barrow was headed towards me I moved, but the wheel got caught in a rut and almost got me anyway…
My first market experience was overwhelming to say the least and so very intriguing. I left the market tired, thirsty, hungry, dirty and ready for a nap. I can’t wait for my next excursion.
There were so many sights and smell all around me. I didn’t know where to look; all I could do was follow my Nigerian guide, who knew exactly what she was doing. I was so overwhelmed that I had a hard time saying anything, but Kerry was not so shy. Every time someone shouted “Hello Onyacha, welcome to Nigeria” she would laugh and say “Thank you!” They relished in her presence, and she relished in theirs.
The streets were very small, and I cannot even venture a guess to how big and expansive that market was. The sisters said we did not even see a fraction of it. But the small streets were filled with people pushing wheel barrows shouting “uzo!” at anyone in their way. The wheel barrow pushers were not going to stop, so if you got in the way, too bad for you. I almost got clipped once, as a wheel barrow was headed towards me I moved, but the wheel got caught in a rut and almost got me anyway…
My first market experience was overwhelming to say the least and so very intriguing. I left the market tired, thirsty, hungry, dirty and ready for a nap. I can’t wait for my next excursion.
‘Wow’ you did laundry?
I did my laundry today, and let me tell you, it was quite the experience… I brought my bucket out to the back of the compound and dumped my laundry detergent into it. I have washed my clothes by hand before, but I always had a scrubbing board or something. This was quite different, and almost strenuous! I was bending over this small bucket, scrubbing away at my clothes. After I got them cleaned and hung up, the wind started picking up, whipping my wet clothes in my face, and scattering my not yet washed clothes into the yard. I ran yelping off after them, all while trying to wipe my off my now dripping glasses and tripping over my bucket and falling into the dirty water in the yard. I was quite a site to see. I am sure if anyone had been watching me, they would have been entertained. And actually, as I told Happiness about it later, she did laugh, and followed that with a ‘wow’.
There are a few things here that are verbal trademarks. One of them is when Happiness says ‘wow’. There is no way to describe her tone as she says it, but it brings Kerry and I incredible joy and laughter. She says it all the time, anytime she is proud of us or astonished by us. We will come home from school and she says, “You came from school?”, we reply with “yes” and she says “wow”. All this is said with the widest eyes and the biggest smile.
Another verbal trademark here is when people say “well done”. It is said in a similar way as “wow”, and used if we have done anything noteworthy, and sometimes even not noteworthy… I will be reading, “well done”. I can be eating, “well done”. How about putting dishes away? “well done”! I once decided to ‘turn the tables’ on my Nigerian friends, and when one of the sisters had baked a birthday cake, I told her “well done”, in the accent that I am so used to now. The sisters burst out laughing, slapped me on the back, and hugged me, so proud of me for picking up on their lingo!
Another thing I am slowly getting used to is when people say “welcome” to me. At first I thought they were saying “you’re welcome” as a response to my thank you. But it turns out they are welcoming me to Nigeria. I have been her over a week now and I am still being welcomed by the women I live with. It is just yet another thing I smile at, and one of the many things I am grateful for here.
There are a few things here that are verbal trademarks. One of them is when Happiness says ‘wow’. There is no way to describe her tone as she says it, but it brings Kerry and I incredible joy and laughter. She says it all the time, anytime she is proud of us or astonished by us. We will come home from school and she says, “You came from school?”, we reply with “yes” and she says “wow”. All this is said with the widest eyes and the biggest smile.
Another verbal trademark here is when people say “well done”. It is said in a similar way as “wow”, and used if we have done anything noteworthy, and sometimes even not noteworthy… I will be reading, “well done”. I can be eating, “well done”. How about putting dishes away? “well done”! I once decided to ‘turn the tables’ on my Nigerian friends, and when one of the sisters had baked a birthday cake, I told her “well done”, in the accent that I am so used to now. The sisters burst out laughing, slapped me on the back, and hugged me, so proud of me for picking up on their lingo!
Another thing I am slowly getting used to is when people say “welcome” to me. At first I thought they were saying “you’re welcome” as a response to my thank you. But it turns out they are welcoming me to Nigeria. I have been her over a week now and I am still being welcomed by the women I live with. It is just yet another thing I smile at, and one of the many things I am grateful for here.
Music is the universal language
Thursday morning came and I knew I wanted to keep singing with my students from the Primary 4A classroom. Those kids have an affinity for singing, and when they open their mouths, I get a yearning to do it too. So I went through my song book and picked some songs I thought I might be able to teach them. I started with Lean on Me, a classic, and easy to learn. I walked into the classroom, greeted with the now familiar greeting, “Good morning Auntie, may God bless you”. I asked the kids if they wanted to learn a new song. The answer was a resounding “YES”! I sang the song through once, and asked if they liked it. They did. So they started to repeat the phrases after me, until they could do it by themselves. I wrote the lyrics on the chalk board and they copied them eagerly. At the end of the 40 minutes, they had the song almost down pat. It wonderful to hear them singing a song which is so special to me, and also putting their own inflections into it, singing with their wonderful Nigerian accents. They were excited to be singing it, and told me they wanted to perform it for morning assembly some day. As I was getting ready to leave they stood up and instead of saying their usual goodbye of “Goodbye Auntie, have a nice afternoon”, they said, “Thank you Auntie for teaching us a song.” It brought a smile to my lips. And best of all, as I was walking down the hall, I heard them keep practicing the song! As corny as it sounds, it brought tears to my eyes! I was so touched that they would sing with me.
One of the wonderful things about Lean on Me is how many places I have sung that song, places that I love. When I was in India, my group sang that song almost every time we traveled to a new site, as a greeting to all the people who welcomed us. We got that song down to a science, and it sounded so good, harmonies and all! Later I found out that the girls who lived at Visthar in India learned the song in Kannada (the language of Karnataka State). As staff as Camp Courage, we also sang Lean on Me to the campers at closing campfire. This song has special meaning to me, and feels so wonderful that I can bring what it means to more people.
Sometimes in our lives we all have pain, we all have sorrow
But if we are wise, we know that there’s always tomorrow.
Lean on me, when you’re not strong, I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on
For it won’t be long till I’m gonna need someone to lean on.
Please swallow your pride if I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs that you won’t mention
So just call on me brother, if you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on
I just might have a problem you’ll understand
We all need somebody to lean on
Lean on me, when you’re not strong, I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on
For it won’t be long till I’m gonna need someone to lean on.
One of the wonderful things about Lean on Me is how many places I have sung that song, places that I love. When I was in India, my group sang that song almost every time we traveled to a new site, as a greeting to all the people who welcomed us. We got that song down to a science, and it sounded so good, harmonies and all! Later I found out that the girls who lived at Visthar in India learned the song in Kannada (the language of Karnataka State). As staff as Camp Courage, we also sang Lean on Me to the campers at closing campfire. This song has special meaning to me, and feels so wonderful that I can bring what it means to more people.
Sometimes in our lives we all have pain, we all have sorrow
But if we are wise, we know that there’s always tomorrow.
Lean on me, when you’re not strong, I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on
For it won’t be long till I’m gonna need someone to lean on.
Please swallow your pride if I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs that you won’t mention
So just call on me brother, if you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on
I just might have a problem you’ll understand
We all need somebody to lean on
Lean on me, when you’re not strong, I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on
For it won’t be long till I’m gonna need someone to lean on.
A Water Problem
Water is a very precious commodity here. To conserve water in the compound, the sisters don’t turn on the water except to fill their tubs every few days. Because Kerry and I are sharing a room, we go through water a little faster than the rest of the sisters, who have single rooms. Every three days or so, the water gets turned on, and we place the giant, plastic tub under the shower head to get filled. We then use this water for flushing the toilet, brushing our teeth and bathing. It is so interesting how this makes a person conscious of how much water they are using.
Normally, when using the toilet, you flush after every use. But here, it would waste so much water, almost 2 gallons every time you flush! And when it rains only every two or three months during the dry season, you just don’t have the resources to flush that liberally. So Kerry and I have adopted the ‘flush only if there is something there to flush’ policy.
In order to flush though, it is not as simple as holding down the lever. Nothing is that simple here in Nigeria. You have to take the top off of the tank, and pour a bucket of water into the toilet, then flush!
Showering here is similar, and doesn’t involve an actual shower, but a bucket of cold water and a small bucket for scooping. It is wonderful how your body can train itself to need things. In America, people feel like they have to shower everyday, and wash their hair that often as well. Here, that would be a luxury that is not available. So I am not washing my hair more than every few days, and it looks decent. I am washing every night though, because people who knew me in India remember that my ‘tan’ after four months took several days of intense scrubbing to wash off… I am determined to not let that happen here! Cleanliness is my middle name!
But, as we are talking about water, calamity struck us on Tuesday night! We were told the sisters were going to ‘turn on the water’ so we could fill our buckets. So we got all ready, and we were really excited. Well, I was excited… Kerry might have just been humoring me… So we turned the tap and water started to fill our buckets. After a few minutes though, it turned from the steady pour to a slow trickle, and finally stopped. The water is out. They tried the lower tank, and that is gone too. Now the sisters have to go to town and buy a tanker of water, which can be very expensive.
I tried to figure out how much water we use here. Every few days the water gets turned on, and we put our big black bucket under the shower head to fill up. Kerry and I think that maybe we can get 20 gallons of water (that is probably over estimating too) into our bucket. And the water in that bucket will be used to flush the toilet, wash our hands, face, feet, brush our teeth, and wash our hair and bodies for about four or five days. That is insane, especially when we think about how much water we use at home! To flush the toilet at home takes about 2 gallons of water. So, the water that we use in five days here would only last for one day of toilet flushing back home. It is insane to think about really.
It reminded me of when I was younger, maybe fifth grade or something; there was this rumor that we were going to have to ship water from Lake Superior to Mexico, because they were running out of water. I don’t know if this was true, and it really doesn’t matter. But my reaction was ‘no’! I really thought that they must be wasting their water, because, how could you ‘run out of water’??? Now I understand, and I know what it feels like to conserve water, and really how lucky we are to have had such an abundance of water.
Normally, when using the toilet, you flush after every use. But here, it would waste so much water, almost 2 gallons every time you flush! And when it rains only every two or three months during the dry season, you just don’t have the resources to flush that liberally. So Kerry and I have adopted the ‘flush only if there is something there to flush’ policy.
In order to flush though, it is not as simple as holding down the lever. Nothing is that simple here in Nigeria. You have to take the top off of the tank, and pour a bucket of water into the toilet, then flush!
Showering here is similar, and doesn’t involve an actual shower, but a bucket of cold water and a small bucket for scooping. It is wonderful how your body can train itself to need things. In America, people feel like they have to shower everyday, and wash their hair that often as well. Here, that would be a luxury that is not available. So I am not washing my hair more than every few days, and it looks decent. I am washing every night though, because people who knew me in India remember that my ‘tan’ after four months took several days of intense scrubbing to wash off… I am determined to not let that happen here! Cleanliness is my middle name!
But, as we are talking about water, calamity struck us on Tuesday night! We were told the sisters were going to ‘turn on the water’ so we could fill our buckets. So we got all ready, and we were really excited. Well, I was excited… Kerry might have just been humoring me… So we turned the tap and water started to fill our buckets. After a few minutes though, it turned from the steady pour to a slow trickle, and finally stopped. The water is out. They tried the lower tank, and that is gone too. Now the sisters have to go to town and buy a tanker of water, which can be very expensive.
I tried to figure out how much water we use here. Every few days the water gets turned on, and we put our big black bucket under the shower head to fill up. Kerry and I think that maybe we can get 20 gallons of water (that is probably over estimating too) into our bucket. And the water in that bucket will be used to flush the toilet, wash our hands, face, feet, brush our teeth, and wash our hair and bodies for about four or five days. That is insane, especially when we think about how much water we use at home! To flush the toilet at home takes about 2 gallons of water. So, the water that we use in five days here would only last for one day of toilet flushing back home. It is insane to think about really.
It reminded me of when I was younger, maybe fifth grade or something; there was this rumor that we were going to have to ship water from Lake Superior to Mexico, because they were running out of water. I don’t know if this was true, and it really doesn’t matter. But my reaction was ‘no’! I really thought that they must be wasting their water, because, how could you ‘run out of water’??? Now I understand, and I know what it feels like to conserve water, and really how lucky we are to have had such an abundance of water.
Nigerian Children
I have been working at the school the past week, and the children are amazing, lively, and full of energy. At first they were scared, and wouldn’t come near us. But as they got to know us better they became more outgoing. Our interactions with them are a game now: chase the onyacha’s (white people) and see who can touch them the most. They also like to mimic our every move, and follow us constantly…
During the afternoon break, I decided to go and play with them, to try and get them more comfortable with me. They stood in front of me, whispering, and giggling, but not doing anything. I asked them if they would sing for me. They nodded fervently. They broke into a Nigerian-ized version of Jingle Bells. I laughed, as Christmas was two months ago, and we are in the season of Easter now. So I asked them if they knew any other songs beside Christmas songs. They nodded again and started singing I want to wish you a merry Christmas, not understanding me. As the musical session went on, they added movements to their songs, singing songs in English, French and Igbo (the language of Enugu state). I tried to do their dances with them and they laughed so hard that they fell on the ground. Soon I started doing my own dances, which they loved and copied immediately. If anyone has actually seen me dance, I am sure you are shaking your heads right now, saddened by all of these new dance moves making it big all over Nigeria. Soon it will be a West African craze, and it won’t be long till they reach America I am sure… But soon after I started dancing, the running commenced, and I was being chased all around the field in front of the school. I tried to explain to them the art of ‘tag’, but instead of them chasing each other, they just kept chasing me, hoping for an excuse to touch me. Duck Duck Gray Duck was also lost on them.
The next morning after our field extravaganza Kerry and I each went into our own class rooms, to hang out with the kiddies. I asked the kids to sing to me again, because I knew they liked it, and it is a good ice breaker. They would sing a song, and I would respond with a song. I sang You Are My Sunshine, which was a big hit. Some of them already knew it and sang along with me. It was a moment that I wished I knew how to play the guitar are thought of my dad. When he was in the Peace Corps in Morocco, he would teach English to his students by way of Bob Dylan. I hope that music will be just as much a part of my time here in Nigeria as it was for him in Morocco. I am going to sing with them every day, and hopefully, they will teach me something about music!
During the afternoon break, I decided to go and play with them, to try and get them more comfortable with me. They stood in front of me, whispering, and giggling, but not doing anything. I asked them if they would sing for me. They nodded fervently. They broke into a Nigerian-ized version of Jingle Bells. I laughed, as Christmas was two months ago, and we are in the season of Easter now. So I asked them if they knew any other songs beside Christmas songs. They nodded again and started singing I want to wish you a merry Christmas, not understanding me. As the musical session went on, they added movements to their songs, singing songs in English, French and Igbo (the language of Enugu state). I tried to do their dances with them and they laughed so hard that they fell on the ground. Soon I started doing my own dances, which they loved and copied immediately. If anyone has actually seen me dance, I am sure you are shaking your heads right now, saddened by all of these new dance moves making it big all over Nigeria. Soon it will be a West African craze, and it won’t be long till they reach America I am sure… But soon after I started dancing, the running commenced, and I was being chased all around the field in front of the school. I tried to explain to them the art of ‘tag’, but instead of them chasing each other, they just kept chasing me, hoping for an excuse to touch me. Duck Duck Gray Duck was also lost on them.
The next morning after our field extravaganza Kerry and I each went into our own class rooms, to hang out with the kiddies. I asked the kids to sing to me again, because I knew they liked it, and it is a good ice breaker. They would sing a song, and I would respond with a song. I sang You Are My Sunshine, which was a big hit. Some of them already knew it and sang along with me. It was a moment that I wished I knew how to play the guitar are thought of my dad. When he was in the Peace Corps in Morocco, he would teach English to his students by way of Bob Dylan. I hope that music will be just as much a part of my time here in Nigeria as it was for him in Morocco. I am going to sing with them every day, and hopefully, they will teach me something about music!
A Trip to the Hospital
Kerry and I had just made a journey into town, to go to the supermarket for some items. On our way back we passed a mob of people of the expressway, trying desperately to flag down any car that was willing to stop. Sister Helena pulled the car off to the side of the road, but she was wary of stopping. She said that often if you help in these situations, if you bring someone to the hospital, you have to stay with them. And if something goes wrong, then often the person who tried to help was blamed for the accident. I think she was also concerned for Kerry and I, who have only been here about a week. In the end, she decided it would be best to try and help in what ever way she could. She told Kerry and I to stay in the car while she went up to the Nigerians and find out what was wrong. At this point, people were running at full speed towards the accident, word around here travels fast; a woman was screaming and wailing as she rain towards us. Coming from the opposite direction of the crash, she cried ‘na my son, na my son’. We thought, maybe her son was the one in the accident. We waited for a few minutes, and then the mob started moving in our direction, led of course, by Sr. Helena. Two men were carrying a young woman, maybe in her early 20’s, she was bleeding heavily from her right leg. I strained to see what had happened to her, and it wasn’t until later that I saw what happened.
The two men placed her, and themselves, in the back seat of the car, while Kerry, Helena and I got into the front. We drove to the hospital. I couldn’t believe the bravery of this woman, who didn’t make a sound. We navigated the Nigerian traffic and bumpy roads until we got to the hospital. When we reached the hospital, the road became bad again, and our car had to go over a huge rut, which caused the girl to shout in agony. The hospital grounds were hard to navigate, and signs for emergency were basically non existent. Finally, the nurses and doctors came out with a gurney and helped the woman on to it. As she came closer I saw that her leg was badly fractured, and her bone was protruding from her shin. As they wheeled her into the hospital, I wondered what would happen to her. It makes me so proud to be living with such extraordinary women.
On the way home, Helena said “Well that was an exciting bit of adventure for your sixth day in Nigeria”, and I was thinking the most interesting thing I was going to write about was the biscuits I bought at the super market.
The two men placed her, and themselves, in the back seat of the car, while Kerry, Helena and I got into the front. We drove to the hospital. I couldn’t believe the bravery of this woman, who didn’t make a sound. We navigated the Nigerian traffic and bumpy roads until we got to the hospital. When we reached the hospital, the road became bad again, and our car had to go over a huge rut, which caused the girl to shout in agony. The hospital grounds were hard to navigate, and signs for emergency were basically non existent. Finally, the nurses and doctors came out with a gurney and helped the woman on to it. As she came closer I saw that her leg was badly fractured, and her bone was protruding from her shin. As they wheeled her into the hospital, I wondered what would happen to her. It makes me so proud to be living with such extraordinary women.
On the way home, Helena said “Well that was an exciting bit of adventure for your sixth day in Nigeria”, and I was thinking the most interesting thing I was going to write about was the biscuits I bought at the super market.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The first glimpses of Nigeria
It was dark when I got off the plane, so I couldn’t see much. But my senses were on overload. I could smell the garbage, pollution and the food. I could feel the heat and the saturation in the air. I could taste the sweetness in the air. Finally, when my eyes adjusted, I could see what was happening. The traffic was insane, and anyone who thinks they have experienced bad traffic before, please come to Nigeria! It took us a good 25 minutes to leave the parking lot, just because of how tightly the cars are jammed in… Then it was another story completely when we got onto the road! How do you spell Chaotic? We I think it starts with a Nigerian driver, who has no fear, then add no road regulations and put in a little over population and you maybe can start to imagine it. The motorcycles just dart among everything and everyone, nobody wears helmets, and seatbelts? Just forget about it. When it was light the most amazing thing I saw was color. Color was everywhere. In the food, the outfits, the cars. I was astounded by the fabrics that people were wearing.
Dust dusty road…
This is the time of the year called the Harmattan, and it is when it is so windy in North Africa, that the sand from the Sahara blows all the way down to Nigeria. Everything is sandy and dusty, and nothing escapes from it. We will find sand inside ziplock bags and in our toothbrushes. Kerry and I took a walk yesterday and the amount of dust on our feet filled a bucket of water black when we washed them later. As we walked, the spaces immediately surrounding us were filled with the dust we kicked up, some times it was hard to breath. And when a car or truck passed us, we would have to stop because we couldn’t see or breathe at all. It was so dusty today that you could not see beyond the compound walls into the city. People have a hard time functioning when it is this dusty, people seem to stay inside.
We live at the end of a long dirt road. To get outside the compound, we ask Eddie (who has the most amazing disposition) to let us out. Then we start the long dusty walk down the long dirt road. On either side of us, as far as you can see is construction. Everywhere you look there are houses and flats being built. They all are in various stages of construction, and many seem to have run out of funds, so they have stopped. One of the things I loved was the scaffolding. When I think of scaffolding in the US, it is all metal and screws (you almost need scaffolding for the scaffolding…). Here, it is made of bamboo. It almost looks as if it is part of the building. At the end of the dirt road are heaps and heaps of garbage, which pile up and then are burned later. Dozens of little goats scale the mountains of garbage, eating scraps.
We drove down the dusty dirt road today to buy our cell phones. We were lucky enough to have Sr. Theresa and Boniface (the school gardener and sometimes driver) take us, to ensure we got a good price. We drove through Awk, which is a smaller town right on the outskirts of Enugu. Enugu was very crowded and it took a long time to get to the place where we bought our cell phones. It was very hot, but the breeze from the open window felt amazing! There were small run down buildings as far as the eye could see on either side of the car, selling anything from food, minerals (pop), clothing and minutes for cell phones. The cars were packed together and the honking of horns seemed to never cease. People ran across the street with out looking for cars, and motorcycles darted in and out, having no concern for any of the massively bigger cars and trucks bearing down on them. The motorcycles carried up to five people each, nobody was concerned at all about falling off.
When we finally reached our destination, we got our first lesson in Nigerian bargaining. We went into the first shop and Sister Theresa asked to see the cheapest Nokia cell phones. The shop owner pulled out one and said the price was 6000 Naira. With out even pausing to think, Sr. Theresa said “No, 4000.” There really was no beating around the bush there. They haggled for a little while, but the shop owner wouldn’t budge past around 5500 naira. So we went next door. The same thing happened there. The shop owner gave a price, 5500 naira and Sr. Theresa again, just said ‘No, 4000.’ This time the shop owner was more flexible and we eventually got the phones for 4700, including the sim card.
On the way back, we passed a bus full of children from the Notre Dame Primary School, on their way home. They are starting to familiarize our faces, and recognize the onyacha (white people), just as we are starting to recognize the onyoji (black people). So they became very excited, and waved, yelling with giant smiles on their faces. I have never seen such smiling faces. They light up when they see you, and if you are forward enough to wave or say hello, they are just beside themselves with glee. I am so excited to get to know them. The thing about Nigerians, is they never seem to stop laughing. They laugh constantly, and sometimes for no reason. In these few days that I have been here, I feel as though I have met some of the happiest people on earth.
Sometimes I feel so stupid, that I need people to help me go shopping and I wish I could just say, let me do it. But then I realize that the saying ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’ is true. I did have orientations in India and Morocco, and it was when I was leaving that I was so used to doing things. But when I got there, I did need help. I have to keep reminding myself of that when I want to be independent. I have 10 months here, so soon enough, I will be able to do these things by myself.
Dust dusty road…
This is the time of the year called the Harmattan, and it is when it is so windy in North Africa, that the sand from the Sahara blows all the way down to Nigeria. Everything is sandy and dusty, and nothing escapes from it. We will find sand inside ziplock bags and in our toothbrushes. Kerry and I took a walk yesterday and the amount of dust on our feet filled a bucket of water black when we washed them later. As we walked, the spaces immediately surrounding us were filled with the dust we kicked up, some times it was hard to breath. And when a car or truck passed us, we would have to stop because we couldn’t see or breathe at all. It was so dusty today that you could not see beyond the compound walls into the city. People have a hard time functioning when it is this dusty, people seem to stay inside.
We live at the end of a long dirt road. To get outside the compound, we ask Eddie (who has the most amazing disposition) to let us out. Then we start the long dusty walk down the long dirt road. On either side of us, as far as you can see is construction. Everywhere you look there are houses and flats being built. They all are in various stages of construction, and many seem to have run out of funds, so they have stopped. One of the things I loved was the scaffolding. When I think of scaffolding in the US, it is all metal and screws (you almost need scaffolding for the scaffolding…). Here, it is made of bamboo. It almost looks as if it is part of the building. At the end of the dirt road are heaps and heaps of garbage, which pile up and then are burned later. Dozens of little goats scale the mountains of garbage, eating scraps.
We drove down the dusty dirt road today to buy our cell phones. We were lucky enough to have Sr. Theresa and Boniface (the school gardener and sometimes driver) take us, to ensure we got a good price. We drove through Awk, which is a smaller town right on the outskirts of Enugu. Enugu was very crowded and it took a long time to get to the place where we bought our cell phones. It was very hot, but the breeze from the open window felt amazing! There were small run down buildings as far as the eye could see on either side of the car, selling anything from food, minerals (pop), clothing and minutes for cell phones. The cars were packed together and the honking of horns seemed to never cease. People ran across the street with out looking for cars, and motorcycles darted in and out, having no concern for any of the massively bigger cars and trucks bearing down on them. The motorcycles carried up to five people each, nobody was concerned at all about falling off.
When we finally reached our destination, we got our first lesson in Nigerian bargaining. We went into the first shop and Sister Theresa asked to see the cheapest Nokia cell phones. The shop owner pulled out one and said the price was 6000 Naira. With out even pausing to think, Sr. Theresa said “No, 4000.” There really was no beating around the bush there. They haggled for a little while, but the shop owner wouldn’t budge past around 5500 naira. So we went next door. The same thing happened there. The shop owner gave a price, 5500 naira and Sr. Theresa again, just said ‘No, 4000.’ This time the shop owner was more flexible and we eventually got the phones for 4700, including the sim card.
On the way back, we passed a bus full of children from the Notre Dame Primary School, on their way home. They are starting to familiarize our faces, and recognize the onyacha (white people), just as we are starting to recognize the onyoji (black people). So they became very excited, and waved, yelling with giant smiles on their faces. I have never seen such smiling faces. They light up when they see you, and if you are forward enough to wave or say hello, they are just beside themselves with glee. I am so excited to get to know them. The thing about Nigerians, is they never seem to stop laughing. They laugh constantly, and sometimes for no reason. In these few days that I have been here, I feel as though I have met some of the happiest people on earth.
Sometimes I feel so stupid, that I need people to help me go shopping and I wish I could just say, let me do it. But then I realize that the saying ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’ is true. I did have orientations in India and Morocco, and it was when I was leaving that I was so used to doing things. But when I got there, I did need help. I have to keep reminding myself of that when I want to be independent. I have 10 months here, so soon enough, I will be able to do these things by myself.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Nigeria is calling my name!
Yay! I am finally leaving!
Before I start, I just want to thank everyone for helping me. As I posted last month, my computer decided to go and keel over. I was very sad, but thanks to some very good friends, I was able to get a new computer! I just wanted to thank Paul and Nacy Moran, who read my blog and helped me to pay for a 'new' used computer, which works very well by the way! And I also wanted to thank Steve Shapiro, who was amazing and found me a good, used computer, negotiated the price, made sure it was up-to-date, and sent it to me. With out the help of you three, I might still be sitting with out a computer! So Thank you, also thanks to Randy and Therese Olson, my wonderful aunt and uncle who recently donated to Notre Dame! If anyone else had donated recently, thank you so much, and you will be hearing from me soon!
The time has come for me to finally leave the country. I leave for Nigeria on Feb. 12th at 6:00 pm. The only reason I feel comfortable saying this is because I got the plane ticket! It is physically in my hand, and now I am going! It has been a bit of a roller coaster for me over the last month, staying in Baltimore and having such an uncertain future. And now, even though what I am doing is not crystal clear, I am excited to finally be moving towards helping in Africa, which is all I ever wanted to do.
One of the projects I will be working on in Nigeria is called the 'photovoltaic project'. This project was started by the Sisters of Notre Dame and has been taken to Nigeria and the Congo. In this project, The Sisters of Notre Dame created a 25 system grid of photovoltaic power panels that purify water for homes, schools and health care centers all across Nigeria and the Congo. The sisters have estimated that in these two countries; 7,000 people will be helped by this project. I am excited to work among the people in this project. If you are interested in learning more about the project, please visit this website: http://sndden.org/sisters-of-notre-dame-de-namur-pvproject.html
I appreciate all the wonderful things people have done for me, and the support that people have shown me over the last few months. It is undeniable how lucky I am to be supported by all of you. As I head out on this adventure, I hope I can get continued support from you through supporting the Notre Dame Mission Volunteer Program. Anyone who wants to continue their support and donate again is so very welcome to do so! There are a couple of ways to donate. You can donate online at http://ndmva.org/Donate/index.htm
You can also donate by sending any money (made out to NDMV) to:
Notre Dame Mission Volunteer Program
Emily Van Oeveren
403 Markland Ave
Baltimore MD 21212
and make sure you are donating on behalf of Malika Heiller!
Also, my address (for mailing me lovelies) is this:
Malika Heiller
Sisters of Notre Dame
14 John Nwodo Close G.R.A
PO Box 3777
Enugu
NIGERIA
As far as I know the best way to send things is in small padded envelopes. And everything gets checked by customs officials (possibly corrupt ones) so don't send anything that could be seen as valuable. When I was supposed to be serving in Kenya they gave us a tip (and it may or may not be universal). The volunteers said that when you are filling out the customs part at the post office, write 'first aid'. Legally, Customs officials are not allowed to take first aid materials from packages...
I am thrilled to finally be leaving. I am going to do my best to keep my blog updated for all who are interested in staying in touch and hearing about my time abroad.
Many thanks to all of you, and I hope you hear from me soon!
peace,
Malika
Before I start, I just want to thank everyone for helping me. As I posted last month, my computer decided to go and keel over. I was very sad, but thanks to some very good friends, I was able to get a new computer! I just wanted to thank Paul and Nacy Moran, who read my blog and helped me to pay for a 'new' used computer, which works very well by the way! And I also wanted to thank Steve Shapiro, who was amazing and found me a good, used computer, negotiated the price, made sure it was up-to-date, and sent it to me. With out the help of you three, I might still be sitting with out a computer! So Thank you, also thanks to Randy and Therese Olson, my wonderful aunt and uncle who recently donated to Notre Dame! If anyone else had donated recently, thank you so much, and you will be hearing from me soon!
The time has come for me to finally leave the country. I leave for Nigeria on Feb. 12th at 6:00 pm. The only reason I feel comfortable saying this is because I got the plane ticket! It is physically in my hand, and now I am going! It has been a bit of a roller coaster for me over the last month, staying in Baltimore and having such an uncertain future. And now, even though what I am doing is not crystal clear, I am excited to finally be moving towards helping in Africa, which is all I ever wanted to do.
One of the projects I will be working on in Nigeria is called the 'photovoltaic project'. This project was started by the Sisters of Notre Dame and has been taken to Nigeria and the Congo. In this project, The Sisters of Notre Dame created a 25 system grid of photovoltaic power panels that purify water for homes, schools and health care centers all across Nigeria and the Congo. The sisters have estimated that in these two countries; 7,000 people will be helped by this project. I am excited to work among the people in this project. If you are interested in learning more about the project, please visit this website: http://sndden.org/sisters-of-notre-dame-de-namur-pvproject.html
I appreciate all the wonderful things people have done for me, and the support that people have shown me over the last few months. It is undeniable how lucky I am to be supported by all of you. As I head out on this adventure, I hope I can get continued support from you through supporting the Notre Dame Mission Volunteer Program. Anyone who wants to continue their support and donate again is so very welcome to do so! There are a couple of ways to donate. You can donate online at http://ndmva.org/Donate/index.htm
You can also donate by sending any money (made out to NDMV) to:
Notre Dame Mission Volunteer Program
Emily Van Oeveren
403 Markland Ave
Baltimore MD 21212
and make sure you are donating on behalf of Malika Heiller!
Also, my address (for mailing me lovelies) is this:
Malika Heiller
Sisters of Notre Dame
14 John Nwodo Close G.R.A
PO Box 3777
Enugu
NIGERIA
As far as I know the best way to send things is in small padded envelopes. And everything gets checked by customs officials (possibly corrupt ones) so don't send anything that could be seen as valuable. When I was supposed to be serving in Kenya they gave us a tip (and it may or may not be universal). The volunteers said that when you are filling out the customs part at the post office, write 'first aid'. Legally, Customs officials are not allowed to take first aid materials from packages...
I am thrilled to finally be leaving. I am going to do my best to keep my blog updated for all who are interested in staying in touch and hearing about my time abroad.
Many thanks to all of you, and I hope you hear from me soon!
peace,
Malika
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Africa, here I come!
So, since I am leaving for Nigeria soon (the 12th now, not the 5th...) I thought I would write some about what I do know about Nigeria, and what I know about where I will be going... We are still waiting on our Visas, which will hopefully be ready on the 5th. It has been quite the process getting the visas, so we are just trying to keep our fingers crossed. If all goes well, we WILL be leaving on the 12th! If I am delayed any longer, I may just hop on a plane...
First of all, I am going to be arriving into Lagos, which is in the south of Nigeria, along the Gulf of Guinea. From there, we will take a 6 or 7 hour car ride to Enugu, the state where we will be living. Enugu is a state in South East Nigeria. Just outside the city of Enugu is a small village called Awkunanaw, where Kerry and I will be located. There is a community of sisters there who we will be living with. The sisters run a primary school in the village, and Kerry and I will start our volunteering there. As we get more comfortable, we can branch out and find even more opportunities to serve.
Last week, Kerry and I met with Sr. Eucharia, a nun from Nigeria who is studying in DC. She was exuberant and so full of life and energy, that I was filled with excitement for the upcoming trip. She told us all about where we will be and what it is like there. One thing she said really struck me. She had been talking about violence in Nigeria with an American sister, who was worried about two young, american women traveling to Nigeria. She replied with, "I have been in your inner cities, I know dangerous. Nigeria is no more dangerous than any place here."
She described the people and said that is why people must travel to Nigeria. The people there are amazing. Full of life and color and joy that is unmatched. If they are anything like Eucharia, I don't doubt that she is right.
Another thing she made sure we knew about was the heat... It is hotter than anyone can possibly imagine. An American sister we talked to who has traveled there said it is 'blistering, unbearable and undeniable heat, like we cannot even imagine', she said to take the coldest Minnesota winters and basically invert them. I googled the climate in Nigeria, and it looks like a good day will be at least 100 degrees, and a cold day will be in the 80's. It is those days that the Nigerian sisters bundle up in sweaters... Good thing I am bringing lots of sunscreen!
Of course, I am excited most about the music! She said that music is everywhere, in everything. I am hoping to find a community in Nigeria that I can sing with. Even listening to the music will be more than enough.
I also found a quote in my West Africa book by Lonely Planet that says, "Chaotic and exuberant, yes, but never dull. If you don't visit Nigeria, you can barely say you have been to Africa".
Here is some information I found out about Nigeria. Nigeria has thirty-six states and one Federal Capital Territory. The country is located in West Africa and shares land borders with the Republic of Benin in the west, Chad and Cameroon in the east, and Niger in the north. Its coast lies on the Gulf of Guinea, part of the Atlantic Ocean, in the south. The capital city is Abuja. The people of Nigeria have an extensive history, and archaeological evidence shows that human habitation of the area dates back to at least 9000 BC. The Benue-Cross River area is thought to be the original homeland of the Bantu migrants who spread across most of central and southern Africa in waves between the 1st millennium BC and the 2nd millennium AD. Nigeria is the most populous country in Africa and the eighth most populous country in the world with a population of over 140 million. The number of languages currently estimated and catalogued in Nigeria is 521. This number includes 510 living languages, 2 second languages without native speakers and 9 extinct languages.
Wish me luck, and hopefully the next time you hear from me, I will be in Africa!
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
wellll I guess I am going to Nigeria!
So after weeks of waiting and feeling awful about the situation in Kenya, the plans have changed. Kerry and I are now going to Nigeria! It is a big shift for us, but we are looking forward to exploring a new part of Africa for us. The Sisters of Notre Dame have never had volunteers in Nigeria before, but we will be living with the sisters there until we can find our own place. We will possibly be working in schools, but we really have no idea. We are going to be pioneering this program and getting it ready for a new wave of volunteers. I am very excited about this. I haven't been able to find much infor on Nigeria, but I know it going to be an amazing experience. I know some people are worried about the political situation in Nigeria, but the Sisters wouldn't send us somewhere if it wasn't safe. As was the reason we didn't go to Kenya.
So please keep up with all the love, support and prayers cause I am leaving on Febuary 5th!
peace.
So please keep up with all the love, support and prayers cause I am leaving on Febuary 5th!
peace.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
the good and the bad...
Here is the gist of what's going on. One: I love the sisters of Notre Dame. They are hilarious. Two: My computer broke!
So firstly, I have never met such an insane, lively, funny group of women. There is a stereotype of course, that nuns are old, mean, conservative, and scary. I am sure this is based some what in truth, but the nuns that I have met over the last few days have completely changed my mind about this! Specifically I am talking about Kathleen (two of them), Sissy, Peg, Evelyn and Rosalee. These ladies are hilarious. Tonight I went over to a house where three of them live, and I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. I actually want to hang out with them in my free time, and I am sure I will (Sebastian, don't worry- I have no intentions of becoming a nun...). It is just nice to have a different image in my head, and get to know these nuns.
When Sister Kathleen (number 1) opened the door, she said, 'There's no room in the inn.' We all laughed, but then she actually closed the door on us! Then she just giggled to herself.
At one point during dinner, Sister Kathleen (number 2), turned to us and said: 'Do you know what "up-talk" is?' All of us burst out laughing, thinking she said upchuck or something worse (use your imagination...). At this point, we were all totally gone, from laughing so hard. She turned to Sister Rosalee and said, 'Really, you must have heard me talk about this!' Rosalee is hard of hearing, by her own admittance. So she turns to me and says, 'She probably told me and I just didn't hear her.' I know it is one of those things that you had to be there, but seriously folks. These are some funny ladies.
But on a slightly sadder note, I was unfortunate enough to find out that my computer has up and died. It flashes the dreaded 'questions mark' as I try and start it up. I have been doing some research on that problem, and most people and websites say that everything I have will have been lost. I am so bummed. Sooo bummed! I am just thankful that I am going to have time to figure this out while I am still in the states. This would really suck in Kenya...
I have a couple options though. I could replace the hard drive. This would cost a couple of hundred dollars. But then I am still bringing my Mac to rural Kenya, risking it being stolen or broken. And despite the horror of death of my computer, I still love it and want to salvage it if possible. The other thing I could do is buy a cheap, crappy dell laptop and use it for what I need it. I need it for microsoft word and picture storage. It would be nice if it had DVD capabilities as well. This would be about the same price, but less risky I think. I am leaning toward that option, if I can find a cheap cheap computer.
Does anyone have one????? I am hoping to find a cheap (or even free) laptop if anyone knows anything, or is feeling generous...
Soo. Here we are. I am still here. Things in Kenya look better every day. So keep praying...
Peace.
So firstly, I have never met such an insane, lively, funny group of women. There is a stereotype of course, that nuns are old, mean, conservative, and scary. I am sure this is based some what in truth, but the nuns that I have met over the last few days have completely changed my mind about this! Specifically I am talking about Kathleen (two of them), Sissy, Peg, Evelyn and Rosalee. These ladies are hilarious. Tonight I went over to a house where three of them live, and I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. I actually want to hang out with them in my free time, and I am sure I will (Sebastian, don't worry- I have no intentions of becoming a nun...). It is just nice to have a different image in my head, and get to know these nuns.
When Sister Kathleen (number 1) opened the door, she said, 'There's no room in the inn.' We all laughed, but then she actually closed the door on us! Then she just giggled to herself.
At one point during dinner, Sister Kathleen (number 2), turned to us and said: 'Do you know what "up-talk" is?' All of us burst out laughing, thinking she said upchuck or something worse (use your imagination...). At this point, we were all totally gone, from laughing so hard. She turned to Sister Rosalee and said, 'Really, you must have heard me talk about this!' Rosalee is hard of hearing, by her own admittance. So she turns to me and says, 'She probably told me and I just didn't hear her.' I know it is one of those things that you had to be there, but seriously folks. These are some funny ladies.
But on a slightly sadder note, I was unfortunate enough to find out that my computer has up and died. It flashes the dreaded 'questions mark' as I try and start it up. I have been doing some research on that problem, and most people and websites say that everything I have will have been lost. I am so bummed. Sooo bummed! I am just thankful that I am going to have time to figure this out while I am still in the states. This would really suck in Kenya...
I have a couple options though. I could replace the hard drive. This would cost a couple of hundred dollars. But then I am still bringing my Mac to rural Kenya, risking it being stolen or broken. And despite the horror of death of my computer, I still love it and want to salvage it if possible. The other thing I could do is buy a cheap, crappy dell laptop and use it for what I need it. I need it for microsoft word and picture storage. It would be nice if it had DVD capabilities as well. This would be about the same price, but less risky I think. I am leaning toward that option, if I can find a cheap cheap computer.
Does anyone have one????? I am hoping to find a cheap (or even free) laptop if anyone knows anything, or is feeling generous...
Soo. Here we are. I am still here. Things in Kenya look better every day. So keep praying...
Peace.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Praying for Peace
Peace is not the product of terror or fear.
Peace is not the silence of cemeteries.
Peace is not the silent result of violent repression.
Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all.
Peace is dynamism. Peace is generosity.
It is right and it is duty.
-Oscar Romero
Right now I am in Baltimore, sitting in a convent, having my world rocked. The convent is also the national office for Notre Dame Mission Volunteers (me) and also the NDMV Americorps progrmam. There are also 2 sisters of Notre Dame who live here. I have nothing but the greatest respect for the women I am meeting here. The sisters who live here are hilarious and so wonderful.
Today we went to a place called Jonah House, which is a non-profit tat centers around non violence. It was amazing talking to these sisters who believed in non-violence and used it as a way of protest all over the country, even to the point of going to jail. Two of the sisters spent 3 years in prison for participating in a non violent protest! I think that is so absurd! These women actually live in a cemetery in Baltimore as caretakers. They have donkeys who graze the property, llamas who scare away the wild animals, and guiney fowl. They grow all of there own food, and believe is the holistic way of life.
But it was great talking to them about our concepts of peace and non violence. One thing that came to my mind immediatly was the paradox of peace and violence. I wonder if you can have one with out the other. I dont think so. In order to truly understand peace, you must first experience violence, only then can you make the changes. The same thing esists with love. With out hate, you can't understand love.
One thing they mentioned was how do you help people? What is social ministry, as they put it? They said that social ministry has two feet: the institution and the direct service. And the wonderful thing about these sisters and other volunteers who work in non-profits like it, is they give their whole essense to the cause. Many people just give the extras, or surplus. These women are extraordinary and have poured their souls into their work. Now, I know that not everyone can do this. But it truly is inspiring, looking at these women.
I hope that this experience can carry with me overseas, and help me to give the most service in every way that I can.
On another note, things in Kenya look like they are calming down. Everyone here, especially myself and Kerry, the other volunteer, are very hopeful. The plan for the next few weeks looks like this: I am going to stay in Baltimore and volunteer with the americorps office. I will be working in a school in South East Baltimore for kids who are living under the poverty line, the ones most likely to drop out of school and not go to college. I will basically be helping out in Art and phys. ed class, tutoring and doing whatever else they need to do for a while. At the end of the month I will be departing for some where... And as scary it is for people to realize, if the sisters in Kenya and Baltimore say it is safe to go to Kenya, I will be going. I just hope that people will support me in my decision. I know people are scared, but I know where I need to be, and it is Kenya. Obviously, we know that things are always changing, but I am just praying that things will continue to improve in Kenya, not only for myself, but for all the Kenyans who are suffering.
I will be anxious to write about my volunteer experience in Baltimore, and update everyone when I know more about my future.. :) Thanks to everyone who is continuing to support me and keep Kenya in your prayers.
Peace.
Peace is not the silence of cemeteries.
Peace is not the silent result of violent repression.
Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all.
Peace is dynamism. Peace is generosity.
It is right and it is duty.
-Oscar Romero
Right now I am in Baltimore, sitting in a convent, having my world rocked. The convent is also the national office for Notre Dame Mission Volunteers (me) and also the NDMV Americorps progrmam. There are also 2 sisters of Notre Dame who live here. I have nothing but the greatest respect for the women I am meeting here. The sisters who live here are hilarious and so wonderful.
Today we went to a place called Jonah House, which is a non-profit tat centers around non violence. It was amazing talking to these sisters who believed in non-violence and used it as a way of protest all over the country, even to the point of going to jail. Two of the sisters spent 3 years in prison for participating in a non violent protest! I think that is so absurd! These women actually live in a cemetery in Baltimore as caretakers. They have donkeys who graze the property, llamas who scare away the wild animals, and guiney fowl. They grow all of there own food, and believe is the holistic way of life.
But it was great talking to them about our concepts of peace and non violence. One thing that came to my mind immediatly was the paradox of peace and violence. I wonder if you can have one with out the other. I dont think so. In order to truly understand peace, you must first experience violence, only then can you make the changes. The same thing esists with love. With out hate, you can't understand love.
One thing they mentioned was how do you help people? What is social ministry, as they put it? They said that social ministry has two feet: the institution and the direct service. And the wonderful thing about these sisters and other volunteers who work in non-profits like it, is they give their whole essense to the cause. Many people just give the extras, or surplus. These women are extraordinary and have poured their souls into their work. Now, I know that not everyone can do this. But it truly is inspiring, looking at these women.
I hope that this experience can carry with me overseas, and help me to give the most service in every way that I can.
On another note, things in Kenya look like they are calming down. Everyone here, especially myself and Kerry, the other volunteer, are very hopeful. The plan for the next few weeks looks like this: I am going to stay in Baltimore and volunteer with the americorps office. I will be working in a school in South East Baltimore for kids who are living under the poverty line, the ones most likely to drop out of school and not go to college. I will basically be helping out in Art and phys. ed class, tutoring and doing whatever else they need to do for a while. At the end of the month I will be departing for some where... And as scary it is for people to realize, if the sisters in Kenya and Baltimore say it is safe to go to Kenya, I will be going. I just hope that people will support me in my decision. I know people are scared, but I know where I need to be, and it is Kenya. Obviously, we know that things are always changing, but I am just praying that things will continue to improve in Kenya, not only for myself, but for all the Kenyans who are suffering.
I will be anxious to write about my volunteer experience in Baltimore, and update everyone when I know more about my future.. :) Thanks to everyone who is continuing to support me and keep Kenya in your prayers.
Peace.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
A change in plans...
As many people have read I am sure, Kenya is going through some rough stuff right now. In the days since the election, violence has erupted all over Kenya, including the western province, where I am supposed to be going. It is so awful to hear about what is happening there, and I am so deeply saddened for Kenya. I am also a little selfish though, because I have been preparing for this trip for so long, I want the violence to stop because I want to be there so badly.
So there have been some changes... I am still leaving for Baltimore tomorrow for training. But I will not be departing for Kenya on the 10th of January as originally planned. I am going to stay in Baltimore and volunteer with Notre Dame Americorps until the situation in Kenya becomes clear. Hopefully this will happen soon, but as is the case in these situations, nobody ever knows what is going to unfold. At the end of the month, if things are still not safe in Kenya I will have to explore other options within Notre Dame. Some of these options include staying on in Baltimore as an Americorps volunteer, and another option is possibly traveling to Peru, where the other international program is located. The Sisters of Notre Dame are also located in a few countries, so I also could have the option of going to live with sisters, even where there is not an established program. So I have many options, and hopefully everything will become clear as the month goes on. My first choice is to still go to Kenya. The program is such a perfect fit, I cant imagine not going. It breaks my heart.
So please, keep me in your thoughts and prayers. But more importantly, keep Kenya in your thoughts and prayers. They need it.
much love.
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