I'm in a pull. A great battle. In one corner; bitterness and self-preserving. In the other corner the; sweetness and loving.

I fight this great battle that at times seems completely overwhelming. Often I'm exhausted from the very effort to simply live. Nothing is threatening my life, no guns to my head, no kidnapping rampages. But, the very quality of life is threatened each day. I'm noticing it comes down to the simple little decisions. Either I can get by, scraping by on the meager bones thrown my way. Or I can choose to create my own feasts by adding meaning and beauty. Tonight, I put on an uplifting music, music that's light hearted and steers away from serious themes. I sit down at the table instead of eating the meal hovering over a pan. I lit a candle and let the amber glow warm the empty apartment and the bare rooms of my lonely heart. I read poetry about August berries and cramming the black honey of them into mouths. In America for me I don't ever have to be so deliberate about being peaceful or happy or thankful. Yet, here it's the great battle. I breath deeply, and choose to surround myself with beauty. Force myself to recognize it's presence around me.

And this slows me down enough to let my thoughts catch up with me. Not the ones that are always fluttering, pestering near my ears. Buzzing with constant accusations and views of jaded perspectives. Instead slowing down allows those thoughts that are deep, meaningful ones of hopefulness and promise. It's easier to identify the life lessons attached to experiences in traffic jams or those life lessons attached to those difficult relationships. Gradually, ever so slowly these thoughts both the jaded and hopeful land on my heart and ever so slightly begin to change the tilt. That's why I'm convinced this great battle must be settled. The victory must belong to the contestant of sweetness and love.

I think about the spiritual battles hovering around me, and try to put words to these invisible yet ever influencing entities.

As I mentioned before when I slow I can see the life lessons attached to experiences. There are a lot attached to my experience in Nigeria. Nigeria teaches you quickly to always keep up your guard. To keep the gloves right up next to your chin, covering and protecting you from the precisely aimed jabs and upper cuts.

I've noticed I've begun to see everyone as a potential threat and enemy. A potential opponent out to entangle me in complications and demands. This view doesn't bring life. I've noticed it's caused me to cut off conversations short, causes me to unsympathetic to my steward who slipped on the puddles from our leaky air conditioner, causes me to retreat to my bedroom to keep the company of myself.

And I can't help but be very saddened by this. This thick skin doesn't flatter me. The color is totally wrong for my complexion. The texture of this fabric doesn't complement my eyes or hair. The whole mindset is itchy and uncomfortable. Yet, when I try to live in my natural design I get taken advantage of, and robbed from.

The fact that I've given into wearing this thick skin embarrasses me. Because it's also an judgement toward Nigerians. I've become increasingly irritated with them as a people. Those Nigerians who cut me in line at the airport. Those who cram everything into the overhead compartments. Those who make excuses about not being able to finish their work but when the addressed by the principal suddenly solutions are found. I have to remind myself that they aren't to blame. They are the result of a crooked government. They have been told countless times through daily life that they don't matter. Every time NEPA fails and they are left with out any power it's a reminder. Every time their universities go on strike and their degree is postponed yt another year it's a reminder. Every time they are crammed like animals into a bus after a long days work it's a reminder.

Injustice is the season of every meal they eat. It clothes their children and is the fare hollered from speeding buses competing for your meager nira.

I realize that it's not the common Nigeria I should be fighting against. Contrarily, they are those I should be joining forces with. The government has us so busy fighting each other that instead of uniting and accomplishing something great we are distracted and forced to steal the bread out of our brothers hand. Divide we are falling.

In my last five months here I want to work on my perspective. I want this bitter bile in my heart to become discerning and understanding. For me this starts in little ways like taking time to talk and explain myself to my IA. Stopping and thinking about how I can add sunshine to another life. Thinking about how to reword my responses so they divert the conversation away from negative towards the positive.

In these five months I'm open to being proven wrong. I'm daring them. Prove me wrong! Prove me wrong that if I give you my minute you wont demand for my hour. Prove me wrong! Prove me wrong that a act of kindness wont be repaid with the stealing of food. Prove me wrong that when I try to be your friend you will see me as such and not only as a way to get a job. Prove me wrong that if I care for you you wont suck me dry!Prove me wrong!