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!
Monday, March 31, 2008
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.
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