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.
No comments:
Post a Comment