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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

‘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.