Bananas!

Bananas…a simple fruit, yet somehow they were able to represent so much more in my hyper-reflective and emotional state that I was exhibiting during my 2 days of travel home from Nigeria. In Nigeria, bananas were small, green or black in color found in large bunches often looking less-than appealing and often acquired by happenstance-chance yet tasted soft, sweet, extra-banana-y and delightful…and people never eat just one!

While sitting in the Amsterdam airport, a cute couple in their early 70’s, presumably from Scandinavia (based on the language in which their newspaper was written) carefully took out a bag of 4 large, perfectly yellow bananas. Each took one and then they put the remaining 2 back in their bag for a later time. I feel these bananas illustrate a bigger truism. Many things in Nigeria aren’t packaged as attractively, planned as calculatedly or carried out with as much restraint, which can lead to frustrations, disappointments and no bananas when one wants them, but when the little boy clad in a torn shirt and flip flops walks by with a tray of bananas on his head just as late afternoon hunger begins to gnaw, those bananas couldn’t taste any more divine!

Contract Marriage

Many misconceptions exist amongst Nigerians about how life is in the US that I blogged about when I was here before, but the one that comes up the most often is contract marriage. Ezekiel defined it to me at some point during the last two years as when two people enter into a marriage with an agreed upon ending point. While I have made the common observation that divorce is prevalent in the US, I was confident that contract marriage didn’t take place, and I confirmed that in Iowa, it’s illegal!

Nonetheless, it comes up often. Most notably, I was in church on Sunday and the pastor talked about it in his sermon and Ezekiel had to practically hold me back from jumping out of my seat shaking my head and finger emphatically that it wasn’t true! The pastor was intelligent, articulate and seemingly exposed, so I decided it was my responsibility to go talk to him after service to tell him how much I’d learned and clarify the misunderstanding. He was a good sport and verified that he watches many international films and news broadcasts and therefore continued to argue that contract marriage was a reality. Finally, he acquiesced and promised to correct his mistake next Sunday. I told him that many impressionable and educated minds were being misinformed. I’m continuing to do my small part in helping to create a more accurate perception of the US.

Transition

I feel slightly strange about posting blogs about Nigeria while I have already transitioned to El Salvador, but I had already written some (using the archaic method of pen and paper in the airport since my computer stayed behind in Africa while I proceeded home to the US) and decided they should be posted, so the next few posts are a little dated, but still true!

My new adventure in El Salvador has started out great and will be chronicled soon! :)

Grad School in Jos

I traveled to Jos to visit my friend Laitu. Since she is currently taking classes for her Master’s Degree in Entomology and Parasitology, I had the opportunity to attend some of the lectures and get to know her course mates. I LOVED it! The pursuit of knowledge, debate of understanding combined with scholarly (and less than scholarly) camaraderie brought me right back to my grad school experience at Our Lady of the Lake University in San Antonio, TX! Despite somewhat compromised facilities there at University of Jos: limited electricity, old, crumbling buildings and no running water, the atmosphere on campus was comparable to that of any other campus I’ve ever experienced: alive, invigorating, enlightening.

African time strongly applies to Nigerian Universities. Laitu simply goes to school every day from 9-5 Monday through Friday and isn’t even sure what the schedule for her classes was initially scheduled to be. Professors show up and deliver lectures when the spirit moves them. As far as I can tell (and I’ve asked many of my Nigerian friends for insight) there is no rhyme or reason as to when they will have class. It’s no problem for me during these three days, but I’m certainly far from genetically African with respect to having a schedule!

I was lucky to be privy to a 2-hour class discussion teasing out the details of the parasite malairae that causes malaria. It was fascinating to hear the epidemiology (how it enters the body and physiological damage it causes while it is there), treatment and prevention techniques to control this disease that is haunting the inhabitants of Africa. My friend is doing her thesis project on Long-Lasting Insecticide Nets and their effectiveness in knock-down of mosquitoes within a variety of local regions. The level of passion, desire and dedication regarding the eradication of malaria was palpable within this class but it was mixed with a certain level of frustration regarding the mobilization of their citizenry to buy in to the multi-faceted control techniques presently available.

I firmly believe that the people of Nigeria are intelligent and becoming more and more educated each year. Increased education will further enlightenment and development. At most points, while I was in class listening and participating in the informal conversation regarding class topics and other random ones I wasn’t experiencing an exciting cross-cultural experience, I was engaging in stimulating and engaging conversation that could have just as easily been taking place at OLLU. It made me realize how much I miss the university environment. I love it and must return. Maybe I can take classes in San Salvador…hmmm…ideas! :)

Rules for Taking a Taxi

1. Magically know which car is a taxi and which car is a private vehicle. (Wrongly assuming a private car as a taxi is offensive, but taxis aren’t marked in any particular way.)
2. Know the proper hand signal to indicate where you are going and match it with the ones that occasionally come from the taxi.
3. Assess where you should sit according to the standard of 4 in back and two in front passenger seat.
4. Greet others as you are entering, but then don’t say much more.
5. If you are the 2nd person in from the passenger side of the back seat, you sit forward so that everyone fits.
6. Once you have seated, you don’t move regardless of how awkward or uncomfortable the position is.
7. Magically know how much it costs and have exact change ready the moment you get out. (You don’t get it out beforehand and you don’t get it out while you’re sitting there because it’s too crowded but you don’t wait until after you’re out because then you’re standing in the middle of traffic and holding the taxi up from moving.)

New Sandals...New Experience!

My running friend Philip told me he wanted to buy me some new sandals. I was resistant at first, but he was so insistent to bring me to a specific place and buy them for me, that I couldn’t say no. We took bikes to this place that was far off the main road and all areas of commerce and if I hadn’t been with a trusted friend I might have been a little apprehensive. However, when we arrived we entered inside and I encountered a small, functioning factory!

I met the owner and designer and he showed us around. Besides two sewing machines that were present, all the other cutting, forming and detail work was done by hand. There were approximately When I started asking the young owner about how he was able to get his small business going, I realized that I had met him back in 2009 when I had lived in Jalingo. I had broken the unwritten taxi rules and struck up a conversation with him and learned about his fledgling shoe factory. I had always retained a desire to check it out, but it had never happened. You can imagine my delight when I realized that my happenstance taxi meeting had come full circle with my visit to buy sandals! The cute sandals (they stretch my style) were made all the more beautiful when connected to the experience of being reunited with the designer and witnessing the production process. Thanks to Philip: the sandals are appreciated, but the experience is treasured! :)

Moments of Beauty

I attended a Nigerian Pentecostal church today and was struck by the different methods of praying, preaching and worshiping God that take place all over the world. The preacher kept repeating that the “ground will swallow your enemies…the ground will swallow your challenges…the ground will swallow evil forces…the ground will swallow…etc” and I almost had to giggle because I thought about my Clinton United Methodist Church that was my most recent church family and how different the prayers sound there. I was struck with just how beautiful it is that we can worship a God that’s so BIG and can be worshiped in such a variety of ways by a diverse set of people and he receives it all for His glory!

Later, Ezekiel and I rode his motorcycle on a beautiful new road that had been a dirt path riddled with potholes only two years earlier. As I looked around, my eyes landed on a holy scene: distinct, grey clouds in a misty haze sitting amongst the mountains formed the background of a luscious, verdant pasture with a few stray trees and a man dressed in a brightly-colored caftan kneeling toward the east to pray to Allah. God was present in that moment.

Parable of the Gold Coins and M&M’s

Correlating the Parable of the Talents to peanut M&M’s may be tenuous at best, but I’m going to take a shot at it. In preparation to come to Nigeria, I purchased a few comfort (travel-friendly) foods to bring along on the journey including a large bag of peanut M&M’s. Ironically, I never buy nor eat peanut M&M’s when I’m in the US, but I do enjoy a regular sugar fix and peanut M&M’s seem to be a rather transportable (non-melting/spoiling/breaking) form of that.

Early on the trip, I opened this bag of M&M’s and sampled a very conservative number: 6. I wanted to make sure that these M&M’s would stretch a long way throughout my 5 week stay. Every few nights, for a week, I’d eat approximately six. Then, I left with the Iowa Team to the village of Bambur for a week. I debated bringing them along but decided they’d be an extra special treat when I returned back to Jalingo, so I left them behind.

You can imagine my disappointment when I returned to find LARGE ants had infiltrated the seemingly tightly-twisted closed bag. However, I’m far from squeamish when it comes to ants and I had really been looking forward to those M&M’s, so contemplated consumption for a short time while the thoughts of “Ants might carry disease. There’s probably ant poop all over these. Mom would NOT approve of eating these now.” swirled through my head. After the ants had been brushed off, I established that most of the candy-coated outsides were intact, so I decided I’d be okay. I ate a few and they were good, but the aforementioned thoughts somewhat detracted from the divine experience I had been anticipating upon return.

The day after arriving home from Bambur I immediately left for Gembu for 5 days. In my infinite wisdom, I decided to leave the M&M’s behind again to “save” them, this time in a recently-discovered zip-lock bag! I had high hopes that my candy would be intact (well, as intact as it could be after its first bout with ants). Sadly, I returned to find hundreds of ants poring over the now naked peanut M&M’s and deemed them officially inedible.

I think there’s a lesson in this situation about using and investing our resources instead of hiding them away. Jesus told this story about how a king gave 10 servants each a gold coin and asked them to invest them to make more money. When the king returned, he questioned the first three servants (random thought: I wonder what the other 7 servants did with theirs…the story doesn’t say!) on their return. The first one had made 10 more gold coins, the second one 5 more gold coins, but the third one said that he’d hid his under his handkerchief so as not to lose it. The king was annoyed and took away his one gold coin from him and gave it to the servant who had earned 10.

Now, investing M&M’s sounds downright silly, but is it? Instead of hiding them away to conserve them, what if I had brought them along to Bambur and shared them with the Iowa Team? Or, what if I had brought some with to each of my Nigerian friends I had visited and we had shared them together? What kind of “profit” might I have gained in terms of happy memories, shared experiences, or new foods to try in exchange? As it was, the ants had a feast. I hope they enjoyed!

Lessons Learned:
1. Bring extra zip-lock bags along when traveling and use them more often than seems necessary.
2. Share early and share often to receive a bigger say the partakers.
3. Investments come in many shapes and sizes. Keep your eyes open for the next opportunity.

Creative Conversing

I’ve been enjoying staying at Ezekiel’s parent’s house and having the opportunity to talk with them a little. Conversing is made more challenging when I can speak English and incredibly basic Hausa and his mom can speak the tribal language of Mambilla, Fulfuldi comfortably and Hausa as an alternative. His dad can definitely speak enough English for us to communicate basic things and then of course Ezekiel can speak them all with ease.

I brought some flavored drink packets from the US to share with them and his dad made a great joke about how it was like Jesus turning water into wine. I added how he must have used wine-flavored drink packets then his dad said something to that effect in Mambilla. Ezekiel then translated the whole thing to his mom and soon we were all joined in laughter. It was a sweet moment. His mom is a joyful, kind soul with a boisterous and infectious laugh. We laugh a lot when we’re together because that’s a universal language. I like it.

Doorways

This morning Ezekiel was helping his friend Chris with wiring his new house. As I was looking around investigating the new construction, I was perplexed with why the doorways were made so short. Now, I can get through unscathed, but I’m only 1.65 meters (as determined through cell phone unit converter), but most other people have to duck while passing through. When I presented this question, it was met with further perplexed stares. Fortuitously, the architect of the design happened to come by moments later and I had the chance to pick his brain on this matter.

What I had initially questioned as lack of planning, was quite well-planned and reasoned. Designs here in Gembu are created based on number of rows of bricks and those bricks can come in a variety of sizes. The size of the bricks determines the height of the doorway. I still wasn’t satisfied with his answer and pressed him further. Why not simply put the doorway up one more row of bricks? If there is not a minimum of three rows of bricks above the header of the door, it’s not structurally sound. At this point I was able to begin extrapolating more of the nuances surrounding the issue: adding another row of bricks all the way around the entire house would add significant expense to the project which would delay its completion. Because while in the US you would simply take out a slightly larger loan, here you just have to wait longer to get the money to buy more bricks. Really, a shorter doorway doesn’t seem like that big of a deal anymore.

Water Treatment Center

Gembu is the first Nigerian city I’ve had the opportunity to begin to understand the processing and distribution of water at a municipal level. We visited the water treatment facility and were able to talk with a man in charge. (We are officially nerds not only because we wanted to go, but we both thoroughly enjoyed it!) They were just sitting by the plant and happily obliged to provide a tour. He walked us around and describing how the water gets pumped from the bore hole well to the sedimentation tanks, through the filtration vats, then treated with carbonate, alum and chlorine and finally pumped to a large reservoir in the middle of the city for distribution. I was really impressed. While the facility in Gembu was significantly smaller, it incorporated many of the same basic steps that I saw being utilized at the water treatment facility used in San Antonio. (Doesn’t everyone visit their local water treatment facilities?) :)

However, I did become somewhat disenfranchised when I was told that it hasn’t been working for 6 months due to a lack of fuel allocation from the state for the massive generator that powers the entire process. They were hopeful based on recent news that fuel should be coming within the week. Without a constant electricity source, development falters even when the other infrastructure pieces are successfully in place. I truly hope they are able to get the system back up and running soon so that more people are drinking safe and treated water.

Water Treatment Center

Gembu is the first Nigerian city I’ve had the opportunity to begin to understand the processing and distribution of water at a municipal level. We visited the water treatment facility and were able to talk with a man in charge. (We are officially nerds not only because we wanted to go, but we both thoroughly enjoyed it!) They were just sitting by the plant and happily obliged to provide a tour. He walked us around and describing how the water gets pumped from the bore hole well to the sedimentation tanks, through the filtration vats, then treated with carbonate, alum and chlorine and finally pumped to a large reservoir in the middle of the city for distribution. I was really impressed. While the facility in Gembu was significantly smaller, it incorporated many of the same basic steps that I saw being utilized at the water treatment facility used in San Antonio. (Doesn’t everyone visit their local water treatment facilities?) :)

However, I did become somewhat disenfranchised when I was told that it hasn’t been working for 6 months due to a lack of fuel allocation from the state for the massive generator that powers the entire process. They were hopeful based on recent news that fuel should be coming within the week. Without a constant electricity source, development falters even when the other infrastructure pieces are successfully in place. I truly hope they are able to get the system back up and running soon so that more people are drinking safe and treated water.

Hand Wash Only

One reason Ezekiel and I are such good friends is because we can appreciate each other’s strengths and use them to supplement our own weaknesses and have a really good time in the process. This morning Ezekiel’s dad had asked him to do a little laundry, so I decided to add a few of my things and participate in the process. Now, I did my own wash by hand for the entire year that I lived here in Nigeria, so I am not a stranger to this process. However, I learned that my method of washing doesn’t even come close to reaching the level of quality control that is expected from Ezekiel. I figure my way gets out big dirt stains and the odor of sweat, therefore success has been achieved. Success has been achieved in his eyes when the clothes are cleaner than they were when they were initially purchased. I was relegated to rinsing and hanging the laundered clothes up to dry, (a job I had reserved for the 4-year old boy who lived in my compound and wanted to help) and even still I had to be retrained to ensure two “rinse cycles” and only hung to dry inside out. I am fully convinced that clothes washed by Ezekiel get cleaner than the highest quality of washing machine that can be purchased in the US. Unfortunately, I explained to him that I would have a hard time convincing people of this and since everyone has a washing machine there wouldn’t be much of a market for that service.

Scam Artists

Scam artists are the same in everywhere. A man from a start-up investment company from Lagos had approached Ezekiel about being the assistant manager in his hometown of Gembu. The manager knows that they need an indigent’s recommendation in order to be successful in the area. Ezekiel is clearly the perfect person: knowledgeable, kind, friendly, humble and genuine. They want him. Thankfully, he was able to see through the gimmicks of “It seems unbelievable, but it’s true!” and thoughtfully decided that putting his reputation on the line for something so questionable wasn’t a good idea. We went to the office so that he could graciously decline due to obligations elsewhere. As I was sitting there observing the man speak to Ezekiel about how the company is having a much stronger start than they anticipated and business is booming and how he’s a great judge of character Ezekiel is the perfect man for the job, all I could think about was how sleazy business people sound the same in Nigeria as they do in the US!

*Note: I’ve been contemplating if scam artists is a legitimate phrase or if it’s only con artists and scams, but I don’t have any other Americans around now to ask, so I’m going to go ahead and embrace my potentially mixed phrase.

Radical Hospitality

I am currently staying with Ezekiel in his parents’ house in Gembu and having a terrific time. I had been to the Mambila Plateau during my previous stay in Nigeria, but since Ezekiel wasn’t around we didn’t stay at his house. Like in the US, each home has slightly different layouts, accommodations, and ways of doing things. Unlike the US, I’m much less familiar with the different varieties here. For example, we’ve all been at the house where you can’t figure out how to operate the shower faucet, but it’s a new challenge is when your shower is a bucket of water and you aren’t sure where you’re supposed to get the water, where you should stand so that the water will drain away, or where to brush your teeth!

While it may seem to the untrained eye that some of these things are arbitrary compared with more well-define facilities, there is definitely a place and a way that things are supposed to be done for everything to work well. Just as we, in the US, would look at someone brushing their teeth in the shower as less than conventional, I’ve received enough questioning looks in the past to now know to ask. Ezekiel has been doing everything in his power to make me feel at home and in doing so I am experiencing radical hospitality.

Shaving Legs

I always thought that living in a culture where it wasn’t required for females to shave their legs would be the best thing ever! However, after living in Nigeria for a while where that was the case, I determined that I do appreciate having shaved legs even without the cultural norm to require it. Thirteen of us stayed in a three bedroom guesthouse in Bambur with one bathroom and no running water. Needless to say, bathroom time was at a premium. Therefore, I decided to take a bowl of water and my razor outside to shave. I didn’t know whether to feel uncomfortable or just laugh (so of course, laughing is always the better option!) when a 60-something-year-old Nigerian man was staring at me.
“What are you doing?” he queried.
“Shaving my legs.” I replied tentatively smiling.
“Why?” he countered completely perplexed.
“American culture…” I quizzically responded and then proceeded to mull over the fact that our culture is so deeply entwined within the depths of our beings and is expressed in some of the most unlikely places but informs so many of our actions, decisions and motivations.

Akwai Bege

Prounounced akway begay, and meaning “There is hope” is how Sandy, Jamie and I left Worom Maternity Clinic on Tuesday night after two, long, busy days at the clinic. The second day initially brought more people who came with money providing hope that people will adjust and begin to understand that to receive medical treatment and drugs they have to pay money. We are also hopeful that if the clinic maintains their stock of medicine the number of patients frequenting the clinic will remain high. Although there were bright spots of hope, I was saw significantly more resistance to pay by the afternoon than I had seen during day 1, and I know this will continue to get worse before it gets better. Though the clinic workers received the brunt of the disgruntledness (spell check doesn’t recognize this but if isn’t a word, it should be!), one needn’t understand Hausa to know they were upset about having to pay to receive their drugs. Anger, frustration and desperation exceed language barriers.

Nevertheless, at the end of our time at the clinic, profits had been made, new drugs were being purchased with the newly-started revolving drug fund and some small money was able to be paid as salaries from the profits for the first time in months. Additional paying patients, stocked supply of drugs, renewed morale combined with an already established competent, caring and dedicated staff results in paid salaries and leads to successful clinic. Akwai bege!

Pharmacist Carolyn?

As I was trying to decide what I wanted to be when I grew up, a pharmacist was toward the top of the list. Today, I had an opportunity, albeit limited, to see what it was like at Worom Maternity Clinic in Bambur. I typically run away from any medical situations, but the team convinced me that I could be in charge of dispensing meds and collecting charges exclusively, so I agreed and I’m glad I did. I was able to get a small view into the struggle that the clinic workers are experiencing when area residents come to the clinic needing medical help and seemingly unable to pay. Here, the medical professionals were prescribing primarily antacids, ibuprofen, multi-vitamins and acetaminophen, and the total charges for the consultation and multiple medicines often totaled less than US $5. I was counting pills, advising patients about dosage in my limited Hausa, and requesting payment to the dismay of most involved. This experience today was unlike any I’ve experienced before.

Missionaries have provided significant assistance and support to this area for many years. While their contributions were made with love and good intentions, the ramifications of the kind, selfless missionary who served at this clinic for 25+ years now are still felt. She provided the community with greatly subsidized treatment in addition to free medicine in order to raise the level of healthcare in the area. However, when she left more than 12 years ago, the community had become accustomed to unsustainable, free healthcare. Now that we are trying to help the clinic become self-sufficient, the workers are meeting significant resistance from the community to the idea of fee-based healthcare.

Despite the fact that it was announced in many locations and events that a new sustainable model is being implemented and fees will be charged, many arrived at the clinic without money, expecting the white missionaries to cover the bill. Throughout the day, approximately 75 patients were seen, and nearly a quarter of them had to leave their drugs and chart with us and go “find money.” Many of them came back with newly discovered funds; some took a few minutes, others a few hours, others I anticipate tomorrow. It affirmed the fact that money is available in this area for healthcare.

The workers and I constantly reiterated that if the community wants this clinic to exist, fees must be paid. Although I knew charging a modest consultation fee and a small surcharge on the medicine was acting in the best interest of the clinic and in the end the community, it was not easy to implement. Many of the patients complained bitterly. It was especially heart-wrenching to tell a crippled, old woman that she had to bring money to receive her medicine. She told me “ba cudin” (no money) and I mustered all the courage and logic that I could find to tell her that I was sorry, but she would have to go find money to receive her drugs.

It would have been much easier to simply pay her small bill myself. I wouldn’t have noticed the money was gone, but it would not have served her in the long run or the greater good of the community. If the clinic does not become sustainable and the workers don’t get their salaries, the doors of the clinic will be closed indefinitely and that entire area will be void of a healthcare facility for many kilometers. The transition promises to be ugly at first, but the culture will change if the workers hold fast to the ideals of sustainable practice, and the community will be better served by having a clinic that is open and well-stocked with medicines.

Providing assistance through education and empowerment is harder and scarier than simply providing handouts because collaboration is required. Giving the people here the power to succeed or fail based on their response to the information provided is terrifying because I want so much to see them thrive. Of course, there is the chance that the verbal abuse from the community will be more than they can stand, or the timing isn’t right for the change and this new model will fail. However, the triumph Worom Clinic will boast when they are successful will be able to be attributed to God and their diligence and not to outsiders who came in and did it for them.

God's Perfect Timing

I had the opportunity to go with the medical team to Worom’s Maternity Clinic and talk with the staff about how to create a revolving medical fund and to reserve the consultation fees for the staff salaries. Currently, much of their income has been dumped into car repairs in order to maintain their visits to the village outreach clinics, which are helpful but expensive and not sustainable. Staff morale was so low they were ready to close the entire clinic. We were able to discuss that stopping the mobile clinics will allow there to be enough resources to keep the main clinic open. Some of the health workers were resistant to this idea despite all the data seemingly pointing to this solution.

God’s perfect timing enabled Yusuf, the medical director at another village to come by the clinic right as we were at a stand-still and he shared his experience how they used to attempt to do mobile clinics but had to stop because of the great expense and minimal income generation. Therefore, they continue to provide effective and sustainable medical services at their main clinic. It was perfect! He stated that he had actually implemented the strategy that we had suggested and it had been successful! A Nigerian had now enthusiastically endorsed the plan without even knowing what we had just discussed. It was an important turning point of acceptance among the health workers. By the time we left for the day, the most reticent nurse was explaining the new plan to another worker for how to operate the clinic in order to be able to garner salaries after a few months after having gone for years without. There is hope for Worom Maternity Clinic.