Thoughts provoked

This week was smooth and steady. I’ve felt more organized since returning from break and have really felt settled in our classroom routines which results in more sanity of everyone involved. It’s been wonderful because I’ve been able to be one step ahead of the game now. On Monday I’m already using my planning time to tackle the necessities for the next week. I’m really excited because this week I get to help teach my first professional development class on guided reading. I get so passionate about teaching and it’s nice to have this fresh outlet to teach teachers.

The weeks here just flash by. It seems like it’s constantly another Friday. I’m not complaining. This weekend I had some new adventures. AISL hosted a softball tournament against local companies. We took advantage of this and went to the beach hut. Immediately upon arrival I changed into my suit and waded into the water. It had a completely different personality this time. It was calm and the breaking waves were small and friendly. I was pleasantly bobbing along when I felt a sting on the back of my leg. I drifted my hand through the water to see if there was anything around under there. I found nothing. I just ignored it and swam away. A couple of minutes later my friend, Amanda, said that she was getting stung as well. By this time it had happened repeatedly to me as well. We quickly swam to shore to reveal welts, bumps and rashes. I showered and hung my suit up to dry, that was it for the day. I’m not sure what it was but it must have just been that spot because a young boy was in for triple the time and he never get a single sting.

While basking in the sun to dry I saw a lot of movement down the shore. There was a long wooden boat circling the water. A net was being left in its drift. A lone man was in the water smacking the surface. On shore there were a group of about 40 men in a long line pulling in the net. I walked over to investigate. I wanted to learn more about what kind of fish they were catching and see if I could possibly help pull the nets with them. It was only men and a group of young boys. Their back breaking work had produced them two small grouper fish, some blue crabs the kids adopted and a couple of silver bait fish. They were very kind, letting me snap their photos and ask them questions. Finished for the day, I didn’t get to help pull the nets but maybe another time.

I have some lovely friend named Ronke and Bonkole. They have two kids that I’ve written about previously. I found out the first weekend of my return that they were moving to Abjua because Ronke got a new position working with the UN on environmental issues. The kids have moved already since school resumed on Monday for them. I thought Ronke had made the move as well but I was pleasantly surprised when they invited me over this weekend. Since the beach is ten minutes from their house I invited myself to spend the night. They were touched that I wanted to spend so much time with them. I got the real African treatment. Ronke and I spent the evening chatting over boiling and bubbling pots. I had asked her to teach me how to make some the traditional Nigerian meals I so enjoy. My lessons for the night were Okra soup and Amala, which is similar to cream of wheat. I got to bucket bath and live with tiny bugs, cockroaches that scatter and hide on the door hinges, and investigating mice. One thing that I was surprised with was how noisy was. I was constantly woken at night by local dogs, the 5:00 am morning masque call, and the creaking doors of someone venturing to the bathroom. I enjoyed my time with them but missed the company of the children.

I’m in school. My professors are my Nigerian friends. Saturday while at the beach I had a class lecture from Gbenga about the scammers and the life of poverty. I’ve quickly learned that Nigerians LOVE to talk. When they have a quiet audience they will take full advantage. I sat for a couple of hours only asking questions for clarification but never getting a real opinion or word in. Conversations here are one sided and there never seems to be a proper place to end them. I’m surprised they don’t hyperventilate from lack of breath. But, I don’t mind because I do love learning from them. Their world view is different than mine because I’ve never had to survive poverty. While I’ve been in situations of empty cabinets and negative bank accounts I have plenty of family and friends to call upon. My opportunities don’t involve an intricate scam or a ripping off a mirror to resell it on the market.

Today Lindas driver Lukeman came to see me. He was all shy and nervous as we quickly recapped our weekends. We walked toward the office as we chatted and I wasn’t surprised when he asked behind his grin and a handkerchief if he could ask me two questions. I told him that I was on the way to the office to talk with the principal but he could ask me right then. He got nervous and with a face that is all grin told me he would come back later. I was wondering what he was going to ask me and was seriously hoping it wasn’t about a date. Twenty minutes later he stuck his head into my room and said “Oh, you are busy?” and before I could answer he quietly closed the door while saying he would come back. A brief second later there was a slight tap on the door and he stuck his head in again and said “When will be a time that you aren’t busy?” I told him that I would always be busy but that I wouldn’t mind meeting right then that I could make time. He stepped in a started to tell me his story about needing to relocate and that his wife (huge breath of relief and extreme happiness) was a hairdresser and that she worked out of a container. To save money they were also living in the container. He wanted to move to another part of Lagos and needed money to get this done. You know I’ve heard a lot of different stories. I’ve leant money to my art teacher and friend in the past. It’s either the ATM ate their bank card, or they need money for transport back to their state. They always pay it back and are respectful when they ask. Every time they start their pitch I think in my head “No way.” And I begin to mentally form my rejection. And every time by the end my heart has turned and I find myself saying “Sure, hold on let me go and get it.” BUT, before you paint me as naive, let me explain. I also ask them are they expecting a dash (tip) or a loan? It’s always a loan. We also clarify when they will pay it back. The amounts have never been much 35 dollars here, 50 dollars there. When I heard Lukemans story and how he just needs some 90 dollars to get him and his wife out of the container and back to his kids how can I refuse? I figure I collateral as well; his job being Lindas driver. Plus, I like to trust the Nigerians. Most of the expats diss them and don’t believe even the most honest truths. Of course these opinions have been proven over time by the select few, but I’m glad to help Lukeman. I can part with the 90 dollars for a couple of days. It would sit unused in my drawer otherwise. I’m learning to be a bank.

Friday will be our stewards last day. She doesn’t know this yet. We’ll tell her in person, pay her and ask for the flat key. We’ve tried to talk with her, and have written her an official letter detailing what were are dissatisfied with and what we would like to see. A “trail” month has come and gone with no drastic improvement. We have already lined up some interviews for the replacement steward. It’s nice coming into this new relationship with the perspective and wisdom we’ve gained from these past six months. Grace will still work for our friend two days a week. But, we never run into her so hopefully things wont be awkward. While I’m confident I can’t have any more “conversations” about expectations, and gripping sessions with Mary Ann about how those expectations aren’t being met I still feel conflicted. Is it right to fire a widow who has two children and a grandbaby to support? But, then again it wasn’t my actions that decided this. I feel like I’m playing devils advocate with myself.