Palaces, Fetishes, and Water Villages!

This weekend had an extra day stapled to the end making it a three day weekend. I added one more with a personal day to make it a four day weekend. A month back I had taken a gamble and signed up for a four day trip to the neighboring country of Benin. It was a risk because on the school calendar we had estimated the Muslim holiday to fall on the 20th not the 9th. Our school officially announced the new date of the 9th the Thursday before. I get frustrated with our inability to accurately predict this date but really it's the moons fault since the holiday is based on it's appearance or something along those lines. I wont pretend to understand.

I was waiting on the side of the road outside my compound at 6:40 with my light weight Eagle Creek suitcase packed with five sets of clothes, two pairs of sandals, the necessary toiletries and smushed down feather pillow. Jane and Les Wood were going to pick me up on our way to 29 Ikoyi Road where we met the other 19 ventures. I was by far the youngest and the only one who didn't work in oil or have a spouse working in oil. However, this group of random people were connected with one thing, a love for adventure. The whole four days were sprinkled with stories about their recent trips and foreign living adventures. We also compared our benefit packages and number of vacation days or the threat of recession and the tightening of budgets. Our group got along so well and I was pleasantly surprised with the dynamics of the group. We all thoroughly enjoyed each others company, conversation and opinions.

We drove from Lagos to the boarder which took around 2 hours because it was early in the morning. The roads were clear. Norm had arranged for a company van to take us to the border. I was so grateful for that border because it meant a bathroom! After my trip to Ibadan two weeks ago I got a urinary tract infection and had been taking antibiotics to fight it. Now it had started to show signs of returning. I was even debating at the border whether I should go or return with the bus and escort and two others who had to return due to single entry visas. I had nightmare memories of Tanzania and Kenya. Of being stuck on public buses with cold and hot sweats praying for the next bathroom stop to be sooner than later. I decided to go.

We presented our evidence of yellow fever vaccination along with our passport and after two hours were all loaded into two different buses with our luggage piled on top and kept down with a net. Our guide Eugene sat in front. It took us a couple more hours to get to a local bar where we were refreshed with cold beers, soda and water and the use of a hole toilet.

EUGENE

We had heard that the palace we were wanting to visit tomorrow had a fire and was under construction so our guide Eugene arranged for us to go to one close by just in case tomorrows plans didn't work out. We paid 5000 CFA to see get a tour of the small palace. The highlights were the explanations of the bas relief that showed they symbol of each late king.


This bas relief was used to symbolize the unity it took to run a kingdom. Many fingers are needed to keep the holes plugged.


Also on the way to the city of Abomey we stopped at a recently built museum and were lead around to tree and holes. The tree was a baobab tree and it was believed to house a spirit. Offerings were made to this tree and if an important decision needed to be made the locals would come for an omen or sign of direction. This was common all over Benin as this country is known for it's fetishes and Voodoo. A fetish is an ordinary object that has been imbued with a sacred power. Voodoo is every day life for them.

We walked further down the path to the hole that during the war could house 80 people with food and supplies. The hole would be surrounded by bushes for camouflage and another layer to keep the snakes away. These holes were only discovered when they were recently expanding the road. We all climbed down to get a better look.


Hot, sweaty, and exhausted we arrived at our hotel called Chez Monique. On the drive we had been warned that it was a low budget economy hotel with a room fan and self contained rooms but no AC. But when we got there the place was lovely and even better than the presidential suite I had stayed in the weekend before. The grounds were a spread of trees and there was art work on every tree and gazebo.


The second day of our trip we went to tour two palaces. At one time this kingdom in Abomey used to have 12 palaces. Each time a new king was sworn in he would build a new kingdom next to the previous. Currently there is only 2 palaces remaining because when the French conquered King Behanzin destroyed the rest even killing his own mother. We got a thorough tour of the palace of King Gilele. We saw the walls made of human blood, the bas relief art that explained the history of the kingdoms, and King Ghezo's throne built on four skulls to symbolize his conquest and domination. The tour was lead by Rose and given in French but was translated by Barbara who I shared a room with. It was fascinating to hear about the traditions and history of this central city. Unfortunately no cameras were allowed on the tour as they believe the artifacts are spiritual. However, I did get some pictures of a local weaving art that was being done in the outer courtyard.



Like mentioned before Benin's history and current daily practices are saturated with voodoo beliefs. Driving through the villages you see flags in different colors indicating a voodoo doctor or shrine. I saw painted on walls rainbow pythons with twisted tongued around babies. We walked through a fetish market and were lead to the back were there was a bird of prey in a shoebox wire cage, a skittery chipmunk and after they peeled back the layers of dusty tarps were skulls of any imaginable animal. The stench of death wafted up and there was an overall feeling of doom and heaviness. However, not all the market carried this moroseness. Most of the markets was lively and active. The tables held piles of metal bolts, baggies of salt, or heaps of fishing nets.




On the third day we left central Benin and headed south to Grand Popo. To do this we boarded a train and chugged through the countryside of lush green, burnt fields and dirt pathways. As our train approached children would run out to greet us, wildly waving with both hands and shouting something either in French or their tribal dialect. The train ride was fast paced and the rushing wind kept us cool. We stopped a couple of times to deliver bulging bags of coal or to call ahead to clear the train track from other trains. Our third stop was for lunch. All of our meals far outweigh any of the meals I've had in Lagos. This one was delicious as well with spicy rice and sweet tomato sauce with a side of fish and a little spoon of green chilies.As always we had pineapple, mango or papaya for dessert.



I heard that we had an hour to go so I reclaimed my new favorite spot on the dresser and started to journal about the days events. I noticed it was unusually quite and that there was no one else around but I thought perhaps every one was in the second train car. I preferred the first one that was more open and was the original built in 1922. One of the attendants came around and was raising the windows. When he came to mine I asked him why he was doing this. But, it's really necessary to speak at least a little French because no one speaks English here. Through gesturing and hand signals I asked him to keep mine down. Then in the distance I heard my name being called and I stuck my head out the window to see everyone gathered around the buses and waiting for me! I had no idea the next hour drive was going to be on the buses instead of the train. Our travels on the train were over. I sheepishly gathered my belongings and joined the group who jokingly poked fun at my oblivion.



We drove for another hour to the city of Grand Popo which is known for it's ideal spots for relaxing on the ocean sands. And once we got there this is exactly what we did. I changed into my suit, dipped for a brief moment in the pool and sat under the low arch of a thatched roof while journaling. That night we had dinner on the beach under a full moon and lightning flashing behind clouds. We were entertained by local musicians on drums and maracas.



To take full advantage of the last day on the way to the border we stopped by a silt village. This was an amazing site as every day activities such as the market, getting to school and work, and church are all held on the water. Even weddings are held on the water in the boats. Each family typically has four boats. One for the men, women, boys and girls. Children being to paddle boats at age 2. While we were coming into the village we were taught about the two seasons on the water. The high season which is just three months of the year and is also when the water is sweet. And the low season which is the remaining nine months of the year which is when the water is salty. During the high water season there is a plague of water lilies which reduces the 60 available species of fish down to 3 species. This community is built around fishing which means the markets open at 4:00 in the morning to provide the fishermen with food for the day. Each family has their water property and have net fences to harvest the fish. While we were coming in the children we taking a lunch break from school. It's remarkable to see young children around the ages of 6 and 7 steering a long wooden boat filled with other children all plaid in their school uniforms.




Even after insisting to Eugene and the water guide about leaving the village at 1:30 getting us to the border at 3:00 we still were late. We got to the border around 4:00. By 5:00 with passports re-stamped we loaded our company bus and were thrilled with the sweet blows of AC. At the border I watched in disgust as Nigerians would hand over some 20 nira bills along with their passport to get back into Nigeria. I know that it's just part of life here but it just doesn't sit right with me. The small form of corruption points to bigger issues with bigger price tags. I had brought out my ink pen to fill in my entry card and the clerk took a liking to it. I let him use it but when I went to gather it from him before stepping into my third line he gave me a smile and said he wanted to use it to write with. I just gave him a look of disgust and acted disappointed, but then I realized that I wasn't acting at all. This really was how I genuinely felt about this tradition of a little dash here a little dash there.

At the border I finally had reception so I called Mark. He asked how my trip was and I told him it was wonderful but I'll show him the pictures and tell him the story hopefully later that night. But, this didn't happen because he was flying out that night to Vancouver. His flight left at 11:00 meaning he had to leave around 7:30 to get there in time. He found out on Saturday that he had to leave on Tuesday due to a French visa he needed to get. He had tried to call me but my phone didn't work in Benin. The whole bus ride home I tried to distract myself from thinking about this. Distract myself from getting sad about not getting to say goodbye. Distract myself from getting angry about his crazy work schedule and life that leaves me in lurches with little answers. We talked a couple of times before he flew out that night but still I miss him terribly already. We don't know when he will be back in Nigeria.

Benin City

We wanted to get on the road around 5:00 before environmental day started. The last Saturday of each month is devoted to cleaning the city and your area. The roads are closed to cars and runners (as our principal and his wife discovered) from 7:00 to 10:00. It applies to the whole state of Lagos. So, with the set goal and with Ibrahim, our driver, arranged to pick us up at 5:00 we finally loaded the car at 6:30 and were off! Mark and I got the roomy back seat while Ibrahim was behind the wheel and Max Powers (what a name) was the hired MoPo which stands for something about military police. His job was to sit in the front seat. The drive up to Benin City was rough. The roads are scared with giant pot holes that can only be avoided by swerving. Children dart across the road and jump over the barrier to get to the other side of their village. Cars come down your one way road unexpectedly because they are avoiding the big holes on their side. Suddenly the road ahead of you is being worked on and because there is no warning you have to turn around and now you are the one driving on the opposite side of the road and the one way is now a two way. We saw trucks freshly turned on their side and carcasses of others left behind licked clean from the fire flames. The drive was long but we were in a clean, air conditioned land cursier. The ipod was pumping and Mark and I were cuddled under a comforter pillows. The back was loaded with granola bars, Pringle packs, and liters of water.

About three hours into our drive I was napping when I heard a loud bang that sounded like a popped ptire or the backfire of a car. With my eyes still closed I selfishly hoped it was someone elses noise and not our own. Opening my eyes I saw billowing smoke pouring from our hood. In this nice Land Cruiser we were the ones stalled on the road being passed by cars only suitable for the junkyard.



Like magic our car was surrounded with people who wanted to help. It reminded me of the area boys who stand around this sand road that people use in Lagos as a sort cut. They stand around waiting for someone to get stuck. And when the little Honda with a big heart but not enough power starts to skid and spit sand they are there before you can cuss a full sentence. It's like the watchful and patient predator ready to pounch. Really, in all honesty it's brilliant and innovative.

But, this situation that could have been seen as a doom and gloom wasn't at all. We happened to be only 15 meters from a mechanic. And Mark who is a natural optimist took a hold of the situation within seconds never loosing that brilliant smile and said "Ok let's do some work while we are here, shall we?" And five hours later he had a replaced radiator, 50 tomato surveys completed, had gone on a full tour of the coco nut plantain and a poormans factory where they roast the palm nuts. Also a whole village was in love with him as he teased the children about "chopping their bellies". To chop means to eat in pidgin.







We got the information we were looking for about farming, prefered tomato paste and competed surveys. We also got hot, sweaty and farmer tanned. After Ibrahim negotiated the price with the mechanic we piled back into the car and headed again on this rustic road to Benin City. I was so grateful for the presence of the MOPO. The drive would have been quadrupled without him. Talk about being a powerful presence. The uniform of the green beree and the plastic looking gun prompted between your feet were a ticket to the fast lane. Every 15-30 minutes we would drive up to traffic which indicated there was a military stop. We would see vehicles pulled over with the people in them angerly gesturing. Some would be standing with stapled papers wildly flying in their hands trying to prove to an uninterested audience who wasn't interested in that type of proof. But, wanted the proof with the famous historical faces smiling back. Because of the MOPO we were always waved through, saving us hours of time and thousands of nira.


The next day we drove out of Benin City into a beautiful community where we meet up with a guy who was a cousin of Marks friends C.Y. He took us on a tour of farm land. We saw the tented greenhouse land dedicated to the future tomatoes of Nigeria. We drove by a beautiful valley view with nothing but trees to line the horizon. I learned how a cashew grows after seeing my first cashew tree. The fruit looked like a yellow pepper but it was tart and chalky.





The tour was short but worth the drive. Just walking through the land made me feel reconnected and was like pushing the reset button of my heart. Back in the car I happily shook my seed pod and stroked my cashew nut. Simple pleasures should never be underestimated or denied.



While the drive back was just as swervy and stomach turvy as the coming it was beautifully uneventful. Mark and I laughed over episodes of Jake and Imir on his iPhone and just plain enjoyed each other company.

With the weekend over, check! Now, I've done the tomato surveying and farming investigation in Benin City thingy and can add one more meaningful adventure into my pocket of treasures.

Ibadan

My friend Mark had returned from England finally. Which means we hung out late on Thursday night, which means my bags were still unpacked for Friday after school. Which means I took some of my planning time to organize the essentials with roughing it in mind.

MIKE

Our plan was to meet at 3:00. I had touched base with Mike earlier in the week about how much money I would need and if I needed to make reservations. He assured me 100 dollars would be fine and he would arrange for the details. When I met him in the classroom I wasn't even sure how we would be getting up to Ibadan. But, I was in for the time for my life and was excited when he said that we would be taking a taxi to a local bus stop and from there join others in a bus that seats 14 people. I had taken these buses before in Kenya. Babies are handed over to you, chickens rest on your lap and the outside is piled high with overstuffed bags. This bus was very different. Mike got the farthest seats back and paid for three seats meaning we had plenty of room to stretch out during the 2 hour trip. The breeze was cool as it wooshed through the open windows. I was having the time of my life as we left the cement towering buildings for lush green jungle.





When we arrived at Ibadan we connected with Mikes friend Niyi. He too lives in Lagos and escapes here on the weekends. We took a taxi to the local university where we checked the prices of a hotel. It was too expensive so as we talked down the sidewalk they told me Niyi's place is far (30 minutes) out of town. I told them that I would rather stay here and asked them if this was an option. They were surprised with this and quickly discovered that I wasn't the timid American they had expected.

NIYI

The breeze was so cool and soft as we walked to surprise Niyi's sister. Her and her husband live on campus because her husband is a professor of statistics. Kink, Niyi's nephew, bounded out of the opened door and wrapped himself around his legs in greeting. But, when he saw us he just as quickly darted back inside to his mothers safety. I'm constantly surprised by Nigerian hospitality. Here we were unexpected guests of three and his sister gives us rice and makrell in a spicy red sauce. My portion was heaping while Niyi and Mike shared. The guests always are treated like royalty, red carpet and all. I sat on the chair with the coffee table pulled up and in between bites held a very interesting conversation with another professor. Often I feel more like a student of life then a teacher. Surrounded by impromptu lectures either from my personal trainer about dating or my driver about helmet laws. This lecture was most interestingly about his personal achievements to create equality for the pregnant women or the crippled in the public transportation. I wanted to pick his knowledge like a bowl of popcorn and savor each bit of knowledge. However, the conversation was cut short by their leaving for an engagement and I was left to finish scooping the piles of rice and stew into my mouth.

After we feasted we left for Niyis house. Instead of taking a taxi like expected we started up the family car after checking the globes. They worked but dimly. The fact that we were given this car to use during our trip once again is a beautiful reminder of communal living that so naturally happens here. Something we in the West find so rarely. Something we in the West have a difficult time grasping. Something we in the West might be returning to due to the current recession.

On the way we drove by some loud music pumping out from a bar. Mike asked me if I would like to stop. I said sure as I'd been fixin to hear some live Nigerian music for a long time. The seating was outdoor and a live Ju Ju band was jamming on stage. There was a keyboard, three singers and a talking drum. Mixed together in such a way that it was hard to stay still. We didn't stay for long as my yawns were becoming deeper and more frequent.

We drove slowly because of the limited light from the globes. We left the main paved roads to a quieter pock mocked road that cut through stales all closed down for the night. When we pulled up to the house the guys insisted on taking care of my things while I just made my way in. After getting settled a bit we walked down some neighborhood pathes to find the local palm wine. When we reached the hut it had already been drunk. A few yawns latter they decided it was time to put me to bed and I didn't protest. They arranged for me to take a bath which washed away all the traces of sweat and dirt. The bathed with cool water and in a dark unlit bathroom. Having no towel I dried off with my underwear and went comando.

I slept well until the roster was wide awake and inviting everyone in proximity to join him. But, he didn't realize that I didn't request the 5:00 wake up call. He must have mistaken me for a nearby neighbor. After each startling cock a doodle doo I would easily drift back to sleep. Mike commented on the sounds being so much quieter here than in Lagos. For me it's the opposite. Life here starts about 6:00 or earlier. You're neighbors harmonious singing, the warning car horn and the bleating goats aren't heard on my compound.

Mike and Niyi were up a long time before I even saw them. They had gone and returned from visiting one of Mikes friends. Mike brought me along a souvenir of a African tooth brush. I know how to say it in Yuraba now, it sounds like Bako. The o is goes up and would have a dot above it. There is the same word Bako which means wood but this word would have a dot underneath the o signally your voice to go lower at the o. Yuraba is a tonal language like Madrin and the same spelling of word can be pronounced four different ways depending on the way you say it.



I chewed up the Bako with my back grinding teeth. The bark had a minty taste and I swallowed it because it would help settle my runny tummy. Once the stick is shreaded like bristles you brush with it. The chewing was relaxing and left my stomach feeling more settled.

Niyi had to find a mechanic to fix the cars silencer which was a tricky task for a Saturday morning. But, once that was accomplished we loaded up for the days adventures. First we stopped by a local stream where Niyi rembered swimming as boy and as if to prove his memory there were a group of seven boys splashing and paddling in the shallow waters. When Mike held up the camera they called out "Camera! Camera!" and took their best poses.





Next, we went to a garden complete with a variety of monkeys. While it was entertaining seeing the monkey grab Niyi's milk bottle and hand over hand pass it to a bigger portion of his cage, then stick out his bulbous lips to collect the sweet nectar, it was also sad. The animals were hungry and lived in such dingy, tiny environments. My favorite part was seeing all the bats. There were millions of them swooping and diving through the air. Their chatter was constant and drew any lingering eyes upwards. There was a man hunting them by sling shot. Mike tried to get me a chance at shooting but the man said no. Later when walking back we found him on the path. His bag was sagging and had blood stains soaking through. I asked him if I could see one of the bats. With a limp head and bigger than expected body he brought out one. Mike challenged me to hold it so he could take my picture. I was surprised with how leathery and smooth the wings were and how fragile the long fingers felt. It wasn't gross at all.







Even after all of this activity the day had really just begun. We loaded into the car again and made a quick stop at a Chicken Republic which is a fast food joint. On the way to the toilet I grabbed a handful of napkins just in case, but was pleasantly surprised with the cleanness and well stocked bathroom. I scarfed down a chicken sandwich that looked nothing like the menu picture but tasted so good. And we were off on the road again. This time heading to another state called Effe. This is where Niyi went to school. On the way up we stopped by the pot holed road for some Moi Moi which is fried bean cakes. When we pulled over Niyi told me that every night these holes are redug and made worse because it forces people to go slowly through the area. There are tons of stales and roadside shops lining the road which profit off the road condition.


Before entering the university Mike asked if I would like to drive. Sure! Why not? This road was free of monster holes and ignored traffic signs. I drove us to a closed museum and then to a zoo and then to a bar for some refreshment.




On Sunday after a yummy lunch of melon soup and emela (which is like cream of wheat but made with yams or cassava) Mike and loaded back into a public bus and headed home to Lagos. The bus was all packed except for one person so we waited for about 30 hour and then headed off with a full load.


I had a great time and were impressed with the hospitality of my two Nigerian brothers. They outdo anything I've experienced any where else. We have a couple more trips planned for the next available weekend and all of us are looking forward to more adventures together.

Ikogobo Masquerade Festival

I've joined a new society called the Nigerian Field Society. They plan and arrange for various trips around Nigeria. Each month waiting in your inbox is a list of the most recent trips and some that are upcoming. Spending the 2000 nira, which is around 15 dollars, for membership has already been a highlight of my time here.

Today was my first adventure. This morning came early after the 9 course Valentines dinner I feasted on late last night. Linda and Renzo rolled out the red carpet again with their normal outrageous generosity. My favorite part of the night was seeing Renzo sweep a reluctant Linda up in his arms. He was being moved by the accordion music setting the mood. Linda blushed and said "Oh, he is drunk." Eventually he won her over with this toothy grin and they swayed together with an ease that comes after 25 years of marriage.


So, this morning came early but it was worth the lost couple hours of sleep. Me and 7 other teachers piled in a our school van with the trusted Tunde at the wheel. We joined the link in a long convey of 18 other cars holding 50 other people. The drive in itself was entertaining. It's refreshing seeing the different faces and landscapes of Lagos.


After an hour of disturbing any peace around us with this long snake of a convoy we arrived at the launching site where about 10 canoes were getting last minute repairs of tar patching and water bailing.


The next hour was magical as we paddled up a meandering stream. Fish jumped in front of us, birds serenaded us from the side lush vegetation, and the sound of the consistent paddle stroking the water could have put me to sleep. It was a beautiful ride and I sat next to my principal Justin and his wife Shannon so the conversation was interesting and rewarding.






Just when our butts couldn't take any more hard planked wood we drifted into the village. We could hear the wild beating drums long before we saw them. Our boat driver with one eye worked hard but we were passed three times by other boats and were the second to last to arrive. The festival had already started as we followed the path into the heart of the village. Our group had settled under the shade of a large tree. The woman congregated in the back, chopping goat meat and stirring garri which is a cassava porridge. The children picked up discarded juice boxes and shook out any remnant droplets. The men congregated, arms crossed leaning to one side.




The smells of burning fire, the sights of mud brick houses, and the sounds of a unknown dialet and chidlrens laugher reminded me of the Africa I am familiar with. You could have taken Maria or Alberto from Mozambique and placed them in this setting without much imagination. The familiarity was refreshing to me and stirred the memories of previous dreams and unique comforts. It's from experiences like these that remind me I have an American passport but it's a label that doesn't stick. This unexplainable feeling of home comes over me when I'm in the most simplest environments.


The masquerade was loud, colorful and long. There was dancing goats, masked wives and twirling colored characters to provoke rain. This Yuroba tribe of the backwater village, Ikogobo put on this festival just for us. We participated by giving the dancers 20 nira when they approached you with outstretched hands. Or if they were a lizard with an open mouth you stuffed the nira notes down into it.



While this was beautiful and festival with ornate costumes my attention was drawn to the villagers, especially the women cooking over woodpiles and the children running around barefoot and happy.


There was a group of women skinning meat, slivering onions, and stirring garri. I told one women that I wanted to help. I sat down next to them and made gestures so they understood. The garri was scooped up with a plastic bowl and plopped into pre-cut pieces of plastic wrap. I was surprised with how scalding hot the balls were in my hand because the women didn't respond as I wanted to. I wanted to yip and drop the contents into the dirt. The women were so pleased with my help they announced "You will marry my son!", they proceeded to drag over their son and said proudly, "My son. This is your wife!" I just laughed, pointed to my ring on my wiggling fingers and said "Sorry, your too late." This made a loud crack of laughter roar through the group. But, that put an end to the wedding ideas and the guy sheepishly returned to his mates.


Another thing that drew my attention was the photo ops surrounding me. I was grateful for the three pairs of batteries I had charged and switched them out regularly. There was just too much beauty around me to not be distracted.



After a couple hours of the festival we loaded up and packed back into the canoes. This time there were two drivers. We quickly arrived back at the launching point and gathered into the van for a reflective drive home.




The drive wasn't peaceful though beacuse we were part of a convey being lead by a escorts who preferred driving in zig zags rather than straight lines. We weaved and jerked our way through traffic and joked that the leader of the convey had enjoyed a little too much palm win.

To see all of the pictures go to Facebook at

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=57167&id=515407286&l=ebe72

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=57158&id=515407286&l=cf803

Glitter Mounds

Today I'm covered in glitter. We were decorating our valentine's holders. I was standing over them watching them the mound of glitter grow gradually on the ground and I began to wonder if this mess was worth it. I was about to tell them to wrap things up even though they just started. But, right as I was contemplating this Dieta whimsically said "This is the best day of my life." Followed by a slight sigh. I took a mental note that gathering glitter mounds was worth a comment like that. It means so much to them to be creative and artistic and to have access to fun mediums.

This weekend I'm going on a trip to a Yuraba village. In the backwaters we are going to attend a masquerade festival. We will each be loaded into a canoe and paddled to the village by waterway. I'm thrilled and will take pictures and tell you stories about it when I can.

Ain't no mountian high enough!

We have a new class song. We sing it 100 times in a row. It's stuck on repeat. We sing it on the top of our lungs with our own hand motions and they wait to see who I'm going to point to when we sing the line about "nothing can keep me getting to you Babe!" The boys grin and blush, tucking their heads in embarrassment.

In honor of Valentine's Day I've taught the Sparkle Diamond "Ain't No Mountain High Enough"performed by Marvin Gaye and Tami Terrell. It's quickly became "our" class song. Today we decorated our Valentine holders and impromptu they sang a capella it for the whole 30 minutes! Otokini came up and said, "Excuse me Ms. Diamond, because we love singing this song so much, can you play it on your computer?" So we spent the rest of the time listening to the verses and then chiming in when the chorus played.

Now, it's playing through MY head on repeat. So, let me tell you Baby! There ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no valley low enough. Ain't no river wide enough to keep me from getting to you BABE! And yes, I'm pointing directly at YOU! Happy Valentine's Day!

Acid

Me at the market

For all of those who are not part of the Facebook world. Here are some links to my pictures. One is from my most recent day at the beach. Another album is views that I see from the passenger seat while we drive through Lagos. The third takes you along my weekend adventure to the local markets. And finally the last is the compound of my friend Linda. I thought you would like to see scenes from my life here.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=55209&l=c7b23&id=515407286
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=52885&l=6be9c&id=515407286
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=55626&l=85967&id=515407286
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=55604&l=dc146&id=515407286

Some highlights of my week were getting my eyebrows waxed, finding a new steward Lawrence, having the principal get the janitor Daniel to unlock a bathroom stall to get one of my students out, stirring our 100’s stew to celebrate the 100th day of school and getting a long detailed email from my friend GP!

As you can see some beauty and some beast in there.

This week I picked up the poetry of Mary Oliver as it always refreshes my soul. Here is one of my favorites because it reminds me of the poverty I see around me. I had a great conversation with my friend Gbenga a couple weekends ago concerning something similar. He said that people who abnormal growths will beg for money on the streets here. You see them holding out their hand and you try to look them in the eye but your attention is drawn to the huge inflamed body part. Overgrown penises, swollen ears, or elephant hands. The hearts of many are pulled into response as they dip into their nearly empty pockets and leave their tattered nira bill. This swollen limb plays on the kindness of the human soul and pays the bills. But, when is enough? Often once they have collected the sum for an operation many decide not to. How could they give up the steady income? Desperation is their daily companion. They are acquaintances with a dependency but never become close friends. Having lived here for 6 months my mind is full of shadows that will stay with me like a bead of acid. As I live here I can't help but access that nest of wires and imagine myself in their position and I wonder what would I do?

Acid
Mary Oliver

In Jakarta
among the venders
of flowers and soft drinks,
I saw a child
with a hideous mouth,
begging,
and I knew the wound was made
for a way to stay alive.
What I gave him
wouldn’t keep a dog alive.
What he gave me
from the brown coin
of his sweating face
was a look of cunning.
I carry it
like a bead of acid
to remember how,
once in a while,
you can creep out of your own life
and become someone else—
an explosion
in that nest of wires
we call the imagination.
I will never see him
again I suppose.
but what of this rag,
this shadow
flung like a boy’s body
into the walls
of my mind, bleeding
their sour taste—
insult and anger,
the great movers?

This group of Nigerians were working along the go slow (traffic jam) They were all missing some limb or another and were begging for money.

Lawrence

There was a light knock on the door around 6:45. I opened it expecting to see an older man but instead it was Grace with her normal brilliant smile. She said she came to get her muffin pan. Seconds after she left another little knock rattled on the door. This time it was the expected face of Lawrence. He politely stamped his feet on the mat before he walked in. We reviewed his tasks for the day and made sure we were on the same page about lunch before I left.

When arriving home for lunch the table was set with plates and napkins. When we brought our plates so the kitchen he told us no. He wanted to bring the food to us. The plates were left on the table. He also apologized for not being able to do all of the cleaning because of the bad state the cleaning had already been done in.

We like him and can tell already that he is going to be a great improvement.

On Saturday we have an interview with a steward named Mark. But, unless he is super impressive we are going to hire Lawrence for two days a week.

The latest

This weekend I saw a great movie called Bridal Wars. I loved it! It was funny, had great dialogue and the two main characters were different from each other but the film presented both of their strengths and weaknesses well. The Nigerians loved it and were squealing with delight. They would throw their hands and feet up while laughing.

I also got to work in my friends garden. I had two little helpers age 5 and 8. They live in the boys quarters and their dad works for someone who lives in the compound. It was tough work and we all three got a long so well. We turned dirt, weeded the scattered weeds, outlined one of the garden plots with broken white plate, and planted and transplanted rocket, lettuce, garlic, radish, and bok choy. I was sweating like a cold coke on a hot day. I also planted little pots of these vegetables and they are now decorating my patio. I can't wait for our own fresh veggies! Lettuce is around 10 dollars a head here so it will be nice to have our own.

I lead a scavenger hunt on Sunday. It was organized by my friend Stacey for her son Kaelan who is in my class. It's always a hoot to see your children outside of the classroom. Some go shy and get cold feet. Others will wave and dance at you from a distance but ignore you when you are face to face. Others love you and aren't even aware that the setting is different or that you are wearing shorts and flip flops. It makes me wonder what goes on in their heads and how they process this familiar face is a very different setting. The scavenger hunt was a blast. We had to ring doorbells and bribe them for different items. It was very creativly done.

I'm trying to decide where to go for my spring break. I'm torn because I was going to go with a group of my flatmate, and a couple, to Turkey. But, I'm not sure if I want to. I like their company but I'm not sure if every night will be spent getting drunk or high. And I had mentioned that maybe Mark would be coming along with us and so now Mary Ann has invited her boyfriend and he is thinking about coming. Mark has not returned however and so I would become the odd duck out with two couples. If Mark did return I still wouldn't invite him because it would be too couply.

I got to help with my first professional development class. It was about guided reading. I loved teaching it and it was amazing because Dee Dee and Paiga were attending. They have had to realize that this is the direction the school is going and that I am one of the teachers they are using as a model! That night Paiga called and told me she needed my help and so we talked through her questions and she said that she would want to see me in action. Amazing! The tables have turned and time and talent has proven the truth. Cool huh? I'm excited to help her too because it's really a more individualized style of teaching.

Different than expected

Mary Ann and I made two phone calls this week. One to Esther and one to Felica. Mary Ann talked with Esther and it seemed to go pretty well. They agreed on a time for an interview to be our steward; 2:30 Thursday. I called Felica and it was a confusing mess. She sounded worlds away and talked as quickly as a chipmunk.The only two words I could make out were "Oh God!" After 10 times of telling her I couldn't hear her and asking her to slow down so I could understand I ended the conversation with "Okay, so we'll see you tomorrow at 3:00!" I wasn't surprised when three o'clock came and passed with no knock on the door to announce her coming. But, I'm sure she has just as much trouble understanding my accent as I do hers.

Today we had three appointments and three no shows. Even our art teacher Lanre didn't come. But, I did get a text from him. And instead of a packed, busy afternoon it became a luxurious, relaxing afternoon. An afternoon where Mary Ann and I looked up vegan recipes online, were I IMed with friends around the world and I tried to bake cookies (they turned out looking like those melted clocks in the famous painting by Dali.

Harmattan

This is the setting sun during Harmattan season. I caught it on my way home from work.

We've official entered the "winter" of Nigeria. It's a season called Harmattan. The temperatures can get down in the 60's! But the signature of this season is the dust. The deserts bring in the coolness of this season and all the dust with it. My contacts are frequently scratchier and we all have sinus issues such as stuffy noses, and the constant nasal drip.

We have some amazing skies due to the dust in the air.

Here is what Wikipedia had to say about it:

The Harmattan is a dry and dusty West African trade wind. It blows south from Sahara into the Gulf of Guinea between the end of November and the middle of March (winter).^[1]

On its passage over the desert it picks up fine dust particles (between 0.5 and 10 micrometres). When the Harmattan blows hard, it can push dust and sand all the way to North America.

In some countries in West Africa, the heavy amount of dust in the air can severely limit visibility and block the sun for several days,comparable to a heavy fog. The effect caused by the dust and sand stirred by these winds is known as the Harmattan haze, and costs airlines millions of dollars in canceled and diverted flights each year.The interaction of the Harmattan with monsoon winds can cause tornadoes.

In Niger, people say that men and animals become increasingly irritable when this wind has been blowing for a while, giving it a bad reputation.However, the cool wind brings relief from the oppressive heat, which is why the Harmattan has earned the nickname "The Doctor".

Confirmed

My alarm began croaking at 5:30 am. (The ring tone is frogs) I hit the snooze button for half and hour. I counted up the hours of sleep on my fingers and lay wondering why I was still tired. I went through my morning routine and walked to school for my two minute commute I'm always so grateful for.

The morning bell announced the beginning of school. The Sparkle Diamonds greeted me at the door and were now busy reading or writing. I had a small group of three with me. We meet every day to practice their reading. I was happy with their progress as the books I had chosen were too easy for them. They were growing as readers. Yet, why was I so grumpy with them and short with them? I quickly called the group to a close.

It came on suddenly. The nausea and the flash of heat. I just stood there battling in my head about what road of action to take. Could I throw up in front of my kids? I decided not and told them my stomach was hurting and I needed to rush to the bathroom. Tonyee the teaching assistant was still at her morning duty but I had to get to the bathroom before it was too late. Plus, I trusted my kids to stay alone.

I made it just in time. Now, I'm home sick.

I was sleeping when I heard the front door open. I thought it must be Grace since it was too early for Mary Ann to come home for lunch. I shook off some of my grogginess and decided to walk into the kitchen to see what Grace was doing. Maybe she came down for her slippers or radio. I wanted to be ask quiet as I could so I wouldn't interrupt her. As I walked in she was filling a container with noodles. I asked her what she was doing. She said that she was getting lunch. I had told her she could eat. I never thought to clarify only on the days you are working for us. I told her but you aren't working for us today Grace your'e working for Shair. She kept repeating that I told her she could eat. She didn't seem to understand that my invitation to eat wasn't an open invitation for any time she liked. Now, I don't feel so bad about our decision.