The rat race is finished

It's been a crazy and emotional two weeks as Mike has been preparing for his move to Texas. Imagine getting around a traffic infested city with appointments that stretch from the mainland to the island and back again. Imagine a long list of goodbyes and loose ends to tie nicely in a bow. Imagine trying to collect owed debts and promised amounts from various people all who are running around Lagos in their own rat races.

Well, today we exited from the preparing to leave stage to gone stage. This morning at 5:00 I loaded in a car with Mike's dad, mom and eldest sister Abigal. The others stayed at home. Mike and I had come the night before to pack his two suitcases and to drop off the last of his things.

This makes it sound like a nonchalant event of meeting new people and of last minute details but it was more than that. First just getting there was an unexpected adventure in itself. Nigeria builds patience in the most demanding of person. The cab man that Mike spent time arranging to pick me up decided to have his cab serviced. I called my driver and he said he was on his way. Instead of understanding that I needed him to take me to Ugurudu. He thought he was supposed to pick me up there. As I quickly stuffed some food in my mouth while waiting for him I happened to look out the window to see my car leaving the garage. I called him telling him I was at the school and he needed to pick me up there. He turned around and came back to get me having not gotten far. On the way across the Third Mainland Bridge I saw the common sights of cars nice and old pulled off to the side of the road, hoods popped up, and waiting passengers leaning on guard rails or poking around under the vehicles or various car parts. I began my mantra of "Thank you Lord." I was thanking Him that all year we had a working car with no issues. Our car was reliable and sturdy except for the clicking sound when it turns hard. And this is a small but amazing miracle here in Nigeria where cars lives are cut in half just from the every day battlefield of the streets.

We picked up Mike and started towards his parents house. Traffic became thicker as we got closer and we began to spend more time in neutral than in gear. I didn't mind because this meant more time together with limited distractions. But, as the sun began to set and we were still inching along Mike made the decision that a bike would be faster. I was excited as this is the way the locals travel and it looks like fun. Earlier I had insisted that we share one sandwiching me in between but Mike said we would weigh to much. God must have heard my pleas and seen the anxiety in my heart because it worked out for us to share one. We zipped passed those frozen cars and buses. We zig zagged through pot holed roads as Mike would instruct the driver to take it slow slow. I smiled at the looks of the astonished faces to see me, a white girl, on an bike. It saved us time and was exactly how I wanted my first ride to be.

Later Mike called Matthew to check and see if he had gotten home ok. He came out to hand me the phone. I was with his sister Debrah in her shop where she was sewing a zipper on Mike's pants. He handed the phone to me telling me I needed to call TJ because our car had broken down. It wouldn't shift into gear and we needed to decide what to do. After some phone calls we decided to have it towed back to VI and then to have my flatmate pay for the cost from my hidden stash of nira.

What I love about this is the fact that this news of a broken down car stranded in a far away village doesn't faze anyone. All was handled with calmness and clarity. And I realized with a smile about the great reward of this training ground called Lagos. If Mike and I can have a healthy relationship in a place that is so difficult to live we could have a healthy relationship anywhere. While this place is sometimes a nightmare I can feel it making me stronger, making me more steady, preparing me for the worst and the best that life has to offer.

I was a bystander at the Ikhiede household. I was an observer learning the interactions of this family. As we stepped through the gates and I saw the silhouette of fruit trees I commented that it was like a paradise. But, it wasn't just the look of the old trees that Mike spent his childhood finding refuge in, it was the atmosphere of the place. I felt like I was coming home. I felt like I was meeting people I'd known for a long time. Part of me feels this way when meeting any of Mike's friends. It's like "Oh, hello! You are finally here. We've been waiting for you." I think the reason this happens in partly to do with the culture of Nigeria. They welcome you in a way that makes you feel the honor of a guest but with a strange familiarity.

With mixed emotion

This Thursday I had a conversation with Mike that stirred the feelings of pride and sorrow. At the same time I was rejoicing and fighting back tears. Mike sat across from me and filled me in on some missing information. Yesterday he had a meeting with the US embassy so he was late for school. Mike loves surprises so he told his parents the weekend before about his upcoming plans and now I was getting to hear about it was well.

For two years Mike has been planning and organizing and arranging to go to Texas to attend university to get his MBA. He was supposed to leave last year with his friend Francis but he didn't feel the timing was right. His meeting for his visa was successful and he leaves on the 24th of May to start school on the 2nd of June. Yeap, that isn't a typo that really is in two weeks. In two weeks he will be in the States and I'll be in Nigeria. How ironic is that?

I'm so proud of him. He has determination and vision for the future. He is always dreaming about the next thing and then puts his plan into action. I told him that it's like we are exchange students. I'm coming to live in his country and he is going to live in mine. In the long run it will help us to better understand each other. I know this is the right move for him and a great opportunity.

At the same time I'm selfish and am so sad that I will lose my close friend. We have mutual friends but I wonder what our interactions will be like without the connecting link of Mike. Another year of Nigeria and now without Mike. I am trusting God for grace. At the same time I'm looking forward to this separation and am determined to not rush it or make the plans like I did with Simon. I'm looking forward to hearing about his days and what he is learning through letters and email. Man, can he talk so I'm expecting some novels about his life there.

On a side note his best friend Femi is getting married to Bola. We spend time with them and today on a walk down the potholed roads of their place Femi and I talked a little about the wedding. I was glad to hear it will be in the second week of December because this means I'll still be around. Femi said this was good because they want me to be in the wedding! I honestly was shocked and speechless. Finally when words came I told him that this was a really big honor. But, in my mind I was worried because I'm just getting to know them better and so why me? I believe it has something to do with the fact that Mike is the best man. Femi joked that he has already been instructing Bola to throw the bouquet so that I catch it. I laughed as I imaged them telling everyone to stand to the left and me to the right and then her just handing the flowers straight to me to make sure I was the one to receive them. Femi said that in a couple of weeks we need to go and look for a dress for Bola. She already has a couple that she likes. I'm excited to do this with her, but part of my heart pains with sadness because it will all have to be done without Mike. I would so much rather have him along with us. The three of us together will make the missing link even more obvious. We'll see how this goes. I'll keep you updated.

Art Lesson

About two months ago we had gone through all of the logistics in organizing a field trip to Ibadan which is about 2 hours away from Victoria Island where the school is. We had the security arranged, the money collected, the permission forms filled in, the parents and children giddy with excitement. And then it all went to kaput because I got sick.

Lanre, my art teacher, and I had rearranged for another day a couple of weeks later, but I was still sick. Then Lanre got married, then he was on his honeymoon, then we had spring break! But, today was the glorious day when we finally made this art happen. And I was jazzed because our Batiks will make the best Mother's days gifts.

We gathered in the pool conference room at tables, were handed our cassava paper and shaved sponges. I introduced them to Lanre and gave them a brief overview of what we would be doing. Next we gathered around the mortar and pixel I had gotten on a previous trip and we combined a plant (with a difficult Yoruba name) and water. Everyone took turns pounding the plant to extract the red pant.

Ike didn't think the paint smelled very good.

Also we gathered in the cramped kitchen where we watched Lanre add another plant to boiling water. The rest of the hour and half we sketched circles and rectangles and outlined with hot wax. I sounded like a broken record reminding the children that the wax is very hot and the pot is hot and to not touch them. I was nervous as this isn't really a kiddie craft with hot wax being dripped everywhere.

I love all of those different little heads. Such diversity even in this side of their face.

Lilly applying her wax.

Ariana and Karoline making puddles of paint

Kaelan and Aasir getting the paint and their groove on

Otokini deep in thought during the art process

At one point we had our wax applied. We had painted our shapes with bright blues and greens and reds. Now we were asking 18 6 year olds to wait for the paint wet layered paint to dry. I was staling and distracting and trying to make the experience more educational by asking them to review the steps of our lesson so far or to tell me the properties of the sponge. In the corner of my eye I saw wild dancing flames coming from the kitchen. Tyron wrinkled up his nose and sniffed saying "I smell smoke." And I just tried even harder to steer their attention away from the obvious. If you remain calm they remain calm. They are a mirror for your own reactions. I kept the conversation going while I casually opened all the windows and prayed that the fire alarm wouldn't be set off. They took care of the fire and next thing I know the paint is dry and we are back to waxing.

As Temi and Uche left we joked about the fire and said that if any parents brought it up we would just laugh and say "What fire? Oh, that was all part of the artistic progress. Yeah, no big deal."

The stage before we paint everything black and then iron

Further Celebration

I forgot to tell you about an amazing "surprise" that happened the Friday of my birthday week. I put surprise in parenthesis because how well can first graders really keep a secret? But, we had just returned from P.E. The kids were sweaty with their hair plastered to their faces. They were squirming to get the best seat in front of the A.C. I was reading to them about Romona who had scribbled all over her library book in purple crayon. But, it was hard to read knowing a surprise party was going to be thrown for me. However, I was distracted by some loud yet distant music and thought maybe our cd player had been turned on. Next thing I knew the door burst open and in piled a crowd of loving mothers with a boombox blasting a Latino beat. Their arms were full of boxes and flowers. The kids began squealing and jumping up and down and I was surprised, but not really. I was acting surprised as best as I could.

Kemi lit the birthday candles which shot flares straight up and I thought, "Never in America." It was beautiful though. We had a wild party of dancing with Bookie who has become bold and brave since Spring break, sharing gooey chocolate cake (which I didn't get to eat because of all the requests from my dancing partners) and eating mini cheese pizzas.

More importantly, I felt so loved and supported by my parents. Knowing how much they appreciate me makes my job even more rewarding. They put a lot of time and effort into arranging this little shin dig. Well, the feeling of gratitude is mutual. I'm blessed.

First Hand Experiences

I'm learning first hand about life in Nigeria. I've been doing this all year long but now the lessons are from a more personal perspective. This weekend I spent some time with Mike at his home in Ogudu. It's on the mainland of Lagos and with good traffic it takes about 30 minutes to get there. Mike shares an apartment with his friend Femi. One of my favorite things is hearing stories about them during their days at university. There are tears of laughter, slapped knees and gasps for breath whenever these stories are told.

Mike's life is so different from mine and it's made me realize that I'm a product of living in the states but at the same time I've been shaped differently than most Westerners. I don't expect our lives to be the same. In the past I think this mindset has helped me not to fall prey of culture shock. When living in a hut in Kenya or hitchhiking into town in Mozambique I didn't expect to see normal sights lining the roads or expect to hear the same sounds outside my window at night. I've always embraced whatever the experience has brought me. So, when experiencing part of Mike's life with him and seeing how different it is I'm not surprised. I embrace it.

And I'm also learning about Mike. This morning I washed the pan of the gas cooker while he went and got gas. Afterward I secretly watched from the doorway and he tried to light it. I smiled to myself as he tried patiently again and again. It was wet and wouldn't take. It took dozens of matches, he burnt his finger, it would light for a second then only fizzle out. Most of us would curse, slam our hand on the counter or walk away in defeat. I watched as he tried one different technique after another. The only sound escaping from him was a random burst of a song. He does this often. The only gesture from him was the shaking of his booty as he sang. One time when complimenting him on his patience he said he wasn't always like this. Mike set his mind to gain the virtue of patience. And as I was spying on him I was reminded of him telling me this and I was amazed at his determination and his success.

There are a million thoughts going on through my head about this relationship. My challenge is to enjoy the journey without knowing the destination. I was filling up water buckets and I found my mind wandering and contemplating as quickly and fluidly as the water flowed from the tap. I was thinking that this is fun now because it's an unknown adventure, but fast forward 1 year from now, or 10 years down the road what will be my feelings then? Will I be cursing the inconsistency of the water and electricity or will I embrace the dance of unpredictability it causes?

I asked him today if he could live a simpler life would he want to? He said "This is my life and I love my life. I like how I live, but yeah who wouldn't want an simpler life. I'll get their with time." I see how difficult life is and how hard he works. But, he loves the way he lives and for him it's normal. Not having power or water is normal. Living in a fuel shortage is normal. Having to meet his father for family business is normal.

Right now I like this life too. Granted I don't live like Mike does 24/7. I get little tastes of it every once in a while. But I've found this difficult life is actually simpler. It makes me feel closer to God who is in control of all these things anyways. It makes me feel less like I'm the driver and more like I'm along for a beautiful ride. It makes me grateful each time the power is on. It makes me grateful for when life is easy and there is a cab waiting outside the house or there is gas to boil rice. Something about it is actually simpler than the life we live in the west. The small unimportant things aren't given any thought and we don't waste any time on them. There is no energy for the petty things of life. Decisions are not as complicated because the options are less. Fried plantains would be nice, but oh, it's Sunday and the markets aren't open. End result, no plantains. Simple. Problem solved.

After hanging together I was going to take a cab home. We were on our way and as we crossed the bridge it was stand still traffic. Both ways up and down the highway not a single car was moving. Bumper to bumper. The taxi driver told me he had to take me back. There has been a fuel shortage again. This time for different reasons, but the end result is the same, endless long ques for fuel. He didn't have enough fuel to sit in hours of traffic and I didn't want to sit in hours of traffic. Also the price of fuel is up since there is a scarcity which means we didn't have fuel to run the generator. When the power does come on we quickly plug everything in to recharge. Computers, flashlights, phones, radios. We quickly rush to the kitchen and plug in the skillet or blender while the power is available. Life here is unpredictable and you can't force anything. You have to go with the flow and make the most of what the situation brings you. I ended up spending the night which meant I got to meet Samson, Mike's brother who also spent the night. The next morning there was little traffic but our fare was more expensive because of the fuel shortage.