Gardening III - Dirt

Today I decided to get to work on putting my seeds in my pots.

The only trouble is that, like pots, good soil is also hard to come by. Remember that it's dry season, too, so the topsoil is mostly just dust. I mentioned the issue to David, and he said to leave it to him. David is what he calls a bakauye, a villager. His mother farms in the village, and David grew up raising pigeons. So he knows about growing things--plant and animal alike. And he's not afraid of hard work and getting dirty!

We got the wheelbarrow and a shovel, and I followed him over to our neighbours' house. These neighbours--a senior resident and his family--are the keepers of Chickenville. David asked the only person home (the doctor's in-law) if we could have some of their chicken droppings for our garden. Sure, the man said. So David and I crossed the yard and entered Chickenville. While David shoveled up some droppings into the wheelbarrow, Timothy and I peeked into the chicken coops made of tin sheets and chickenwire. There were three different coops. One had a light bulb, and that was full of little chicklings--not actual tiny baby chicks, but definitely young chickens. The second coop had brown and white chickens together, and the third divided the white chickens from the brown ones. I have no idea why, not being a chicken expert myself. But we said hello to the birds, causing quite a ruckus. It smelled bad, too. Whooee! That's the smell that sometimes wafts into our bedroom at night. Lovely aroma. When David had gotten enough droppings, we headed back to our house. David dug a hole in the yard and shoveled the droppings into it to keep them from scattering.

The next step was finding soil good enough for planting. As I said, all the topsoil is dust, so David had to use a hoe and dig deeper to find better dirt. It took a lot of work, since the ground is so firm and dry, but eventually, he got enough for all four pots. In two, he put sand on the bottom, but the other two just had soil all the way down to the bottom. On the top of all four, he shoveled some chicken droppings.

"Now how do I plant the seeds?" I asked him. He said to wait, to put water on the dirt tonight, and then to plant tomorrow. So I doused the dirt in the pots with water. I tried to saturate the soil, but who knows if I succeeded? (I was a little nervous about dipping my hands into chicken droppings to check the moisture.) So the pots are sitting outside, full of [wet, I hope] dirt. And tomorrow we plant!

Gardening II - Pots

My second step in planting my basil and dill was getting planting pots, since I wanted to keep them contained and mobile.

It's not as easy as you might think. I can't just pop over to Menard's, or Home Depot, or even Super Target (or whatever they call the one with the gardening shop). I thought I'd be able to get them in town easily enough, but when I asked my parents' driver/gardener where to get them, he said he had to think about it. Finally, a few weeks later, he told me we'd have to go to the outskirts of town, to a little village called Narraguta. I'd only been out that direction a few times, including a year ago when Mr. Magit took us to a leatherworks there. (That's where David got the shoes made for him and his groomsmen.)

So Friday morning, I got the baby into the carseat, hopped into the car, and Mr. Magit drove us to Narraguta. It's not a long drive, maybe 20 minutes. Some of the highlights along the way were:

• petrol queues and closed-down filling stations
• men pushing wheelbarrows full of sugarcane
• outdoor concrete floors about 8'x8' used as local prayer rooms
• a sign reading, "Say no to CULTISM. It ruins."
• a herd of Fulani cows roaming around a car wash

When we reached the shop (I use the term losely--there were a few hundred pots stacked along the road) in Narraguta, I got out of the car with Timothy and inspected the pots. Immediately, we were surrounded by a swarm of small children. They didn't laugh or talk, and when I said hello in Hausa to one little girl in particular who looked about three and wore the Muslim veil, they just looked at me. We picked out four pots that were a little bigger than I wanted (for a total of $6) because they only had one the right size, and the sellers helped me get them into the car. I smiled at the kids, and they followed me as I got back into the car. As we drove away, I waved, and they actually waved back--the first sign that they recognised me as another person!! My guess is they don't see white people very often.

Mr. Magit unloaded the pots when we got home, and put them by the kitchen door for me to fill with dirt later...

But I didn't get around to it.

Gardening I - Seeds

I'm not a gardener. I grew up in apartments in Los Angeles, so you can imagine how much land we had in which to grow green things (i.e., none at all). Our yard was concrete at most of our apartments. Yeah, not great for gardening.

When I was in seventh grade at Hillcrest, we returned from the States in January, and my classmates were growing gardens for science class. Well, January is the middle of the dry season, and I hadn't been around in the fall to plant anything, so I had to start from scratch. Needless to say, I didn't get an A on my garden.

But I'm an adult now, so I thought I'd give it a go. My sister was successful in growing basil in her condo in Illinois, and it's so yummy to eat. We can't always get it in the market here, so when I noticed that our fruit-seller had a bunch of seed packets hanging from a clothesline in his fruit stall, I asked him if he had seeds for dill or basil. He said he didn't, but that he'd get some for me. I didn't really believe him, but two weeks later, he handed me two little sachets of seeds--dill and basil. Yay!

A brown Christmas

When I think about it, I've hardly had any white Christmases. My first one, I guess, was in 2000 in Delaware, and that was just a small dusting of snow Christmas morning as a fluke. (Apparently, they don't often get snow for Christmas.) Most of my Christmases have been brown and dry, even in the States. I'm not complaining or anything. That's how I grew up, so that's "normal" to me.

This year was no different. We're in the midst of the dry, dusty season, harmattan, here in northern Nigeria. In fact, the few days before Christmas, I was wearing long sleeves because it was chilly!! Not cold, mind you, but lower than 70F. (The dust in the air keeps out direct sunlight, so the temps drop.) On Christmas Eve we attended the annual Christmas Eve Service at Hillcrest Chapel, this year conducted by a pastor in my parents' mission. It was a lovely mixture of readings and music, including an outstanding piano-trumpet duet of "The Coventry Carol" with a spoken introduction. I'd never before heard the carol explained, and the music was so poignant as we all remembered Herod slaughtering the children fo Bethleham. Wow! After the service, we got to connect with a few old friends, including my sister's first boyfriend and one of my classmates, whom I hadn't seen since our high school graduation in June 2000.

Christmas morning dawned bright and cheery. I woke up before the boys and baked my mom's famous cinnamon rolls. Then we drank [precious] earl grey tea and opened presents. (Well, Luke opened presents. We mostly just watched.) Luke was especially enthralled by a book about boats and ships from Mom and Dad. It's a pretty nifty book! Then we watched It's a Wonderful Life and afterward took a nap. I got up to make a bean salad and rolls for dinner... Well, the rolls flopped. I'm a baker, sure, but yeast has never been my strong suit. So I had to make some baking powder biscuits instead. (The rolls did eventually rise, and we baked them and ate them, but it was more than a day later!) Our friends Sara and Sunday came over around five to do video Skype with her family in the States, and at six, we went off to our neighbours' for Christmas dinner. We were joined by other neighbours, the Johnstons from Northern Ireland. They brought traditional Irish potatoes (here, just called "Irish" without "potatoes" at all, as in, "Would you like to buy some Irish?"), pavlova, and Christmas [fruit]cake. Yum! When we got home, we tried to call my family on Skype, but we kept getting disconnected. I guess too many people had the same idea!

But that's not the traditional Nigerian Christmas at all! Here's how it should have been:

We get up early and eat breakfast. We all put on our new outfits. (Everyone who can afford it buys a new outfit for Christmas Day.) We walk to church, where we stay for anywhere from two to five hours. Then we go visiting all our friends and family. OR we entertain guests at our house and feed them jallof rice, meat, and cin-cin. We have rice and chicken for dinner.

So our Christmas wasn't quite Nigerian, but not quite American either. I totally forgot about filling our shoes (the Scandinavian version of stockings). Oh well! Christmas remains the same--a celebration of Christ's birth and a reunion of family and friends. That's what matters, right?

(Music 10) The Gift – A Colours Christmas

It's hard to say whether I like this more or December more, but they are my two favourite Christmas albums. The Gift is an instrumental celebration of Christmas and the perfect music for Christmas morning while eating breakfast or opening presents.

(Recipe 10) Blushing Apple Crescents

¾ c sugar
½ c red hots (cinnamon candies)
1 t whole allspice
½ c white vinegar

Drain liquid from apples into saucepan; stir in sugar, candies, allspice, and vinegar. Heat to boiling and simmer 5 minutes. Add apples; heat to boiling again. Pour into bowl, cool, and refrigerate 24 hours. Makes 4 cups.

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Mom got this recipe from her friend Wanda Farrell back in 1980, before I was even born! We adore it. It's a perfect blend of sweet and sour--with vinegar--and makes a beautiful and tasty side dish to the main meal. You can use fresh apples if you'd prefer; Mom usually does, I think. We can't get red hots here, though, so this is a special treat for us!

(Music 9) Celtic Christmas – Eden’s Bridge

Enjoy the lilt of Christmas carols and original music Celtic style! Both mellow and upbeat, you'll love the bagpipes and tin whistle. If you like Celtic music at all, this is a must-listen-to!

(Recipe 9) Spritz

1 c butter, softened
½ c sugar
2¼ c flour
¼ t salt
1 egg
1 t almond or vanilla extract

Heat oven to 400°F. Cream butter and sugar. Blend in remaining ingredients. Fill cookie press with ¼ of dough at a time. Form desired shapes on ungreased baking sheets. Baket 6 to 9 minutes or until set but not brown. Makes about 5 dozen.

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If you know anything about Spritz, you know it's a dough that works with a cookie press. I'm sure there are all sorts of shapes and flavours you could make, but my mom always made green Christmas wreaths and put red hots on for bolly berries. Very festive! I haven't made these as an adult, not having a press, but they're lots of fun! And yummy, too. :)

A visit with Lydia

Lydia came to visit today!

Last January, my mom took in a foster baby girl, straight from the hospital, and we named her Lydia. She was with my parents until June and was adopted by the man in charge of our church's community development program and his wife. She was a real chunk when she left!

Mom had seen Lydia's dad the day before she left, and he'd said that his wife might bring Lydia by sometime while Mom was gone. So this morning, when I asked who was knocking at the gate and heard, "Lydia's parents!" I rushed to get dressed and greet them! Little Lydia (now 11 mos) came in with her mom and uncle, and we had a nice visit. (I was really annoyed that my camera stopped working for no reason I could find!) My friend Sara had come a bit earlier and stuck around long enough to take a few photos.

Lydia is so big! She's standing now, though not walking yet, and she makes lots of fun sounds. She scared poor Zoe out of her wits (I've never heard Zoe growl at someone before!). She crawled around and grabbed anything and everything. I wished we had some one-year-old-appropriate toys!

It was a short visit but happy. I'm glad Lydia is growing (she has 6 teeth!) and is loved. Yay!

Party time!

For the past two weeks, we'd been planning on attending my work party for Joint Project for Sunday School Materials this past Thursday at 5pm. Then about a week ago, I learned that the Evangel Hospital Christmas party would be the same night at 6:30. On Tuesday, I got a text from a coworker at ACTS asking if I could come to the company Christmas party Thursday at 4pm. Crazy! I informed my coworker that we wouldn't be able to come to the ACTS party, that we were already attending two that evening!

So we geared up for an evening of partying--Nigerian style. This means lots of speeches, special numbers, and food! Our Joint Project party started late--to be expected--because our CEO got lost on the way to the venue. We sang some carols, did a craft with the angel's words to the shepherds in Luke, then had introductions of families, and we ate. Mmm yum! There was an assortment of Nigerian and Western food, from pounded yam and moi-moi to roasted potatoes and gravy. And my mom's helper, Sarah, had made us some zobo, a dark red drink made from dried flowers. We had to miss dessert to go home to our next party!

We showed up there around 7:30. The party location was lovely--the front yard of one of our missionary houses, with lights strung up, tables spread out, and candles and oil lamps on the tables. Beautiful! The director of training was making a speech, so we sat and listened. Poor Luke was pretty restless, having had to sit still through much of the last party. Then we sang three carols--almost all the verses--a capella and were dismissed to eat. I didn't even bother going through the food line, having just eaten, but Luke and David went through again, and David got me some fried plantain. Yum! While we were eating, there were a few more speeches. Then the chaplain got up to give an exhortation. By this time it was 8:30, and Luke was supposed to be in bed! So we left quietly and went home, exhausted.

Then yesterday, I'd planned a party of my own for my friend Marc. I was inspired by something friends had done for my friend Linda (Darjean People) and decided to surprise Marc by showing up with Christmas cheer and a few other friends. We brought a 2" fake tree, ornaments, eggnog, sugar cookie dough, cookie cutters, music, sugar plum spice tea, and games. Ruth even wore her Santa hat! We had a lot of fun, and I personally think Marc's tiny house looks better with its tiny Christmas tree! The picture shows Marc and George cookie-cutting (with Luke in background). Both said they'd never ever made Christmas cookies before! Crazy! David had a good time reading Marc's books. *sigh* Terry decorated the sugar cookies with cream cheese frosting and sprinkles all the way from the States. (Apparently, sprinkles are called "hundreds and thousands" in the UK.) He'd never heard of cream cheese frosting. And he and his wife Ruth (pictured with Timothy) had never had eggnog! So it was an evening of firsts.

So we are ALL PARTIED OUT. Exhausted. Fatigued. Socialised to a crisp. No more parties!! (Oh wait, I do have guests coming for lunch tomorrow...And we're having friends bring pizza and a movie tomorrow night...) Help!

(Music 8) December – George Winston

This is a beautiful collection of Christmas piano solos by an amazing musician and pianist, George Winston. I went to see him in concert when I was in college, and I was somewhat surprised when he arrived at the venue in jeans and a nice shirt. Although he may lack a certain crowd-pleasing presence, his music is remarkable. My favourite is "Carol of the Bells." This is a great soothing CD to have on as background music during Christmas dinner or during a relaxed holiday party.

(Recipe 8) Christmas Meringue Cookies

Dough:
Blend well:

• 2 egg yolks
• 2-1/2 c flour
• 1 t salt
• 1/2 t baking powder
• 3/4 c sugar
• 2/3 c shortening
• 1/4 c milk
• 1 t vanilla
  

Chill dough while making meringue.

Meringue:

• 2 egg whites
• 1/4 t salt
• 1/2 c sugar
• 1/2 t vanilla
• 1/2 t vinegar
• 6 oz chocolate chips
• 1 c crushed candy canes
  

Beat egg whites and salt until soft mounds form. Gradually add sugar. Beat until stiff peaks form. Fold in other ingredients.

Shape dough in balls on ungreased cookie sheets. Flatten balls with glass dipped in sugar. Top with meringue. Bake at 325F for 20 to 25 minutes.

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My mom got this recipe from our friend Sheri Edwards in Christmas 1993. That was the Christmas Mom and Dad returned to the States (from Nigeria) quite suddenly because Dad was diagnosed with cancer. They left us kids with missionary friends here and stayed in Los Angeles for a month with Sheri's mom and dad, good friends of ours from church. Mom made these cookies the next year, when we were all together in Los Angeles, and we fell in love with them, too!

(Music 7) Veni, Veni, Emmanuel – Carols from Cambridge

Dad bought me this CD two years ago, and it's brought me much Christmas joy! Maybe it's unusual for someone my age to enjoy choral music, but I sure do. (Still not sure about opera, though.) I grew up listening to Nine Lessons & Carols from King's College, and that paved the way for enjoying this wonderful album!

(Recipe 7) Swedish Shortbread

1 c butter, softened
½ c plus 2 T sugar
2-2½ c flour
1/3 c raspberry jam
1 c powdered sugar
1 t almond extract
2-3 t water

Blend butter and sugar, add flour and mix well. Divide dough into 6 parts. On ungreased sheets, roll or pat each part into a strip about 1½”x12”. Using knife handle, make slight indentation lengthwise down center of each strip (not too deep or cookies will break). Fill indentation with jam. Bake at 350°F for 10 to 12 minutes or until edges are lightly browned. In small bowl, mix powdered sugar, almond and water to make thin glaze. While still warm, drizzle glaze across strips and cut diagonally into 1” slices. Makes 60 cookies.

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This recipe makes thin buttery cookies, and we especially love the almond flavouring. Truth be told, you can use any kind of jam, not just raspberry. Our other favourite is apricot. These cookies are great to take to parties or give as gifts because they look and taste really nice.

(Music 6) Christmastime – Michael W. Smith

I really wish Alex hadn't borrowed this CD from me about five months ago and not returned it yet! I'm a huge fan of MWS anyway, so if you like his pop-style Christian music, you'll love this Christmas CD from a few years ago.

(Recipe 6) Peanut Blossoms

½ c butter
½ c peanut butter
½ c sugar
½ c brown sugar
Add:
1 egg
1 t vanilla
Blend in:
1¾ c flour
1 t soda
½ t salt

Shape into balls. Roll in sugar. Place on ungreased sheet. Bake at 375°F for 8 minutes. Remove from oven. Place chocolate kisses firmly in center. Bake 2-5 minutes longer.

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Chocolate Kisses are one of my favourite candies, so these cookies, that combine peanut butter and chocolate, are just divine. Of course, I'm the weird kind of person who usually eats the Kiss off before eating the rest of the cookie. Oh well! They're simple cookies and taste great (unless you have peanut allergies). I just wish we could get Kisses here so they were easier to make!

(Music 5) An Old World Christmas – Holiday Favorites from Europe

I grew up listening to this CD at Christmas. It has a wonderful "classical" feel with mostly choral music, and some old carols that you hardly hear anymore. Yes, okay, so most of our CDs are ancient--almost as old as CDs can be! But this album is a true gem, especially if you like carols sung in languages other than English.

(Recipe 5) Snowballs

1 c butter
2 c flour
½ c powdered sugar
1 t vanilla
chocolate chips and/or chopped walnuts

Roll dough into little balls and place on ungreased sheet. Bake at 300°F about 30 minutes.

Cool and roll in granulated or powdered sugar.

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These are my personal favourites. I love them so much that my mom started making them for me even when it wasn't Christmas! My second care package in college (all the way from Nigeria!) was a Tupperware container of snowballs. Yum yum! They're just a basic shortbread, but they taste phenomenal, and I particularly love 'em with chocolate chips. (I'm not a fan of walnuts anyway.) We roll them in powdered sugar, and they do look like snowballs! They've also been called "Russian Tea Cakes." They're great!

(Recipe 4) Pfeffernüse

½ c shortening
¾ c brown sugar (packed)
1 egg
½ c molasses
2 t anise extract
3-1/3 c flour
½ t soda
½ t white pepper
½ t nutmeg
½ t allspice
½ t cloves
1 t cinnamon
1/3 t cardamom
1½ T grated lemon peel (about 2 lemons)

Heat oven to 350°F. Mix thoroughly shortening, sugar, egg, molasses, anise. Blend in remaining ingredients. Knead dough until of right consistency for molding.

Shape dough by level teaspoons into bals. Place one inch apart on ungreased baking sheet. Bake about 12 minutes or until golden brown on bottom. Cool. Glaze. Makes about 6 dozen.

Glaze: Combine:
1 egg white
2 t honey
¼ t ground anise
Add 1½ c powdered sugar.Beat until smooth. Put 12 cookies in a bowl. Drizzle with 2 T glaze. Toss with fork to coat. Dry on rack or waxed paper.

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This recipe, for "Pepper nuts," makes cookies that resemble ginger snaps. They're spicy good! They're even good without the glaze. (My sister and I made them last year that way because we didn't want to buy ground anise just for the cookies...cheapskates!) They also taste fine if you use black pepper instead of white pepper. My mom's been baking these for as long as I can remember, but in our family, they're strictly a Christmas cookie.

(Music 4) Home for Christmas – Amy Grant

I remember hearing this once in high school and deciding I needed to own it. When I was a senior, I sang the song "Emmanuel, God With Us" at our Christmas closing chapel--and forgot the words! It was pretty funny. And every time I hear Amy sing "Breath of Heaven," I just want to cry. Another favourite is "Grown Up Christmas List." Amy Grant has been a family favourite since her debut before I was born, and I will continue to listen to her music, no matter what some Christians say about her lifestyle's morality!

Two things

One is that my computer crashed...Again.

I'd been using David's for the past oh six months, I guess. But his power supply died, and Dad had miraculously resurrected my own computer, so I'd switched back over. And now it's died again. If you've ever seen the movie Awakenings starring Robin Williams, it's like that. We truly thought it was cured, but actually... Well anyway, here I am using my dad's computer. If this crashes or somehow becomes incapacitated, I'm down to Luke's computer!! Ironic that my dad, the computer guru, isn't here until February, either! This means I have to start from scratch with my Christmas recipes and music lists, too. Aargh.

The second thing is my complaint about something I heard in church yesterday. Let me preface it by saying that I think the chaplain is wonderful, and he really seems to be a godly man. I have nothing against him at all. No, my complaint is against Western Christianity, or at least American Christianity. You know what? I don't think even that is accurate. I'll tell you my complaint, and then you can analyse and tell me who it is propagating the idea, okay?

Why is leadership such a big deal? Why does everyone seem to think that if you're not a leader, you're a nobody? If there weren't followers, there would be no leaders! It's just as important to be an obedient (in the Christian context) follower as it is to be a leader! Why is such emphasis put on leadership skills? Isn't it as crucial to be able to follow directions and directives? If we were all leaders, where would we be? Shouldn't we be humble servants? Where in the Bible does Jesus say we need to be leaders? I just don't get it. Granted, that's probably because I've never had any desire to be a leader. I may have a few leadership qualities, but if I do, they're hidden from me. And I've never in my life wanted to be in leadership. Sometimes I found myself there anyway, but I'd much rather be in the background, doing support, than in the forefront. And people think my position is pathetic, sad. Well, hello! I'm proud of being a good follower! So all you people obsessed with leadership can just get off your high horses and acknowledge that you'd be nowhere without people like me!!

Phew. Okay. I feel better now.

A weekend of visitors

It's been a busy weekend! Luke went on Friday to stay the weekend next-door at the Lemanskis' house, so David and I were left alone with Timothy for two nights. It was a nice relief, but somehow we feel more exhausted than ever!

Saturday late afternoon, one of David's best friends came to visit with his new wife. (We attended their wedding in Kaduna in May. I was miserable and made David miserable, so I didn't blog about it.) We hadn't seen them since the wedding, and I'd only met her once before that, so I had no expectations for what the evening would be like! It ended up being comfortable and nice. We went out to dinner at The Net Cafe in town and had some nice discussions. (And I got berated for 1. not dressing the baby warmly enough, 2. not drinking something hot, and 3. not bathing the baby every day.)

Then today, David's family came--all three of his brothers, plus his sister-in-law's elder brother, who was the co-photographer at our wedding. It was quite a crowd! We didn't have enough living room chairs for everyone! After some chitchat, including discussion on Timothy and on delivery in general (David's sister-in-law is just about term with her pregnancy), we went out to lunch. The restaurant we went to, Bevelyn's, used to have a mural on one wall that was a blown-up photo of the Golden Gate Bridge. The only trouble was that they had gotten the panels of the photo wrong, and the bridge was floating off into space at one end, continued (in the next panel) at least 20" lower on the wall! I guess they figured with earthquakes and everything, that's how the bridge actually looks! My family always called it the "Broken Bridge Restaurant." Now the walls are covered in mirrors. Not very flattering, if you ask me!

We had great Nigerian food ("I'd like gari and vegetable soup." "I'm sorry, sir, the vegetable soup has finished." "Okay, give me gari and egusi." "I'm sorry, sir, the gari has finished..."), and then everyone came back to our house (well, my parents' house, seeing as we're house-sitting) for a little while before they headed off again. It was quite a day, quite a weekend! When David's family left, we just sat on the couch in silence, too tired to even go to our bed and lie down!! I know it's an introvert thing, but boy, can hosting be tiring!

But it was fun to see our guests and to find out that our sister-in-law is expecting. (People don't announce their pregnancies here like they do in the States, so often people don't find out until you deliver, at least if you don't live in the same town.) At the same time, we feel like our weekend disappeared, and our "rest" without Luke was virtually nonexistent. Ah well! C'est la vie!

(Recipe 3) Julekage

1 pkg yeast
¼ c warm water
¾ c lukewarm milk
¼ c sugar
½ t salt
½ t ground cardamom
1 egg
¼ c shortening
½ c raisins
1/3 c cut-up citron or mixed candied fruit
3¼ to 3½ c flour

Dissolve yeast in water. Add other ingredients and 2 c flour. Blend. Beat 2 minutes. Add remaining flour. Knead 4 minutes. Rise in bowl 1 to 1½ hours. Punch down. Shape into ball. Place in greased 9” cake pan; brush with butter. Let rise 45 minutes. Bake at 350F for 35 to 45 minutes until golden. Brush with butter. Glaze. Cool.

Glaze: Mix 1 c powdered sugar and 1 to 2 T water.

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This is a traditional Scandinavian Christmas bread. "Julekage" means "Christmas bread." It makes a yummy Christmas breakfast, especially warm and spread with real butter. Another of my mom's Christmas breakfast breads is Stollen, a German bread, but I can't find her recipe for it!

(Music 3) A Holiday Celebration – Peter, Paul and Mary

We actually had a video of this performance (taped from TV in ~1988) that we used to watch every year while decorating the tree, along with taped recordings of the 1988(?) St. Olaf Christmas Festival, a King's Singers Christmas concert, and The Nutcracker. One of our favourite tracks is actually a Hanukkah song, "Light One Candle." The nice thing about this CD is that it's not Christian per se, but it has Christian carols as well as a few secular Christmas songs and one or two Hanukkah tracks, too. A great mix and lots of fun!

For a list of tracks and lyrics, click here.

(Music 2) A Fresh Aire Christmas – Mannheim Steamroller

This will always be one of my favourite albums. It's certainly not a new CD (1988), but in our family, it's a classic. My brother even learned the Latin words to "O Come O Come Emmanuel" ("Veni Veni"). It's a great blend of jazzy electronic and somber choral tracks. Check it out!

(Recipe 2) Frosted Cinnamon Icebox Rolls

2 packages active dry yeast
½ c warm water (105F to 115F)
2 c lukewarm milk (scalded then cooled)
1/3 c sugar
1/3 c vegetable oil or shortening
3 t baking powder
2 t salt
1 egg
3 c Gold Medal® whole wheat flour
3 c Gold Medal® all-purpose flour
4 T butter or margarine, softened
½ c sugar
1 T plus 1 t cinnamon
Browned Butter Frosting (below)

1. Dissolve yeast in warm water. Stir in milk, 1/3 c sugar, the oil, baking powder, salt, egg, and 1½ cups of each flour. Beat until smooth. Mix in enough of the remaining flours to make dough easy to handle.

2. Turn dough onto well-floured board; knead until smooth and esastic, 8 to 10 minutes. Place in greased bowl; turn greased side up. Cover; let rise in warm place until double, about 1½ hours. (Dough is read if an indentation remains when touched.)

3. Grease 2 oblong pans, 13”x9”x2”. Punch down dough; divide into halves. Roll 1 half into rectangle, 12”x10”. Spread with half of the butter. Mix ½ cup sugar and the cinnamon; sprinkle half the sugar-cinnamon mixture over rectangle. Roll up, beginning a wide side. Pinch edge of dough into roll to seal. Stretch roll to make even.

4. Cut roll into 12 slices. Place slightly apart in 1 pan. Wrap pan tightly with heavy duty aluminum foil. Repeat with remaining dough. Refrigerate at least 12 hours bu tno longer than 48 hours. (To bake immediately, do not wrap. Let rise in warm place until double, about 30 minutes. Bake as directed below.)

5. Heat oven to 350F. Remove foil from pans. Bake until golden, 30 to 35 minutes. Frost with Browned Butter Frosting while warn. Makes 24 rolls.

Browned Butter Frosting: Heat 3 T butter or margarine over medium heat until delicate brown. Stir in 1½ cups powdered sugar, 1 T milk, and ¾ t vanilla. Beat until smooth and of spreading consistency. Frosts 1 pan of rolls.

(Note: If larger rolls are desired, roll dough into rectangle, 10”x9”. Cut each roll into 9 slices. Place in greased baking pans, 9”x9”x2”. Makes 18 rolls.

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Okay, I admit: These aren't strictly a holiday tradition in my family. Mom makes them reasonably often. But they're a year-round favourite, and she likes to make favourites at Christmas, so they often make it onto the breakfast table this time of year. They are simply to die for - the best home-made cinnamon rolls I've ever had in my life. They're right up there with Cinnabon!!

Mom tried to make these Christmas '99 when we were in the States for my sister's wedding. We were staying for two weeks in an unused apartment in a neighbourhood or retired missionaries. There was yeast in the fridge, so Mom used that for the rolls. They didn't rise at all! We had teeny tiny rolls that year, but they still tasted fine!

(Music 1) The Messiah - G.F. Handel

BUY ME (If this link doesn't work, go to the Wheaton College Bookstore website and search for "Messiah.")

What can I say? I'm a huge fan of this work in general, but to be honest, I'm in this recording. I started singing in The Messiah when I was in eighth grade. Every year, the Hillcrest community puts together a choir of between 100 and 300 members who meet weekly to rehearse for an early December performance. There is always a huge turnout. When I was young, they performed in the chapel, but the crowd outgrew the seating capacity (and standing capacity), and for awhile the choir was too large for the stage, so we sang on the bleachers of the school's basketball courts. That way there was plenty of space for people to bring their own chairs to augment the chairs from the chapel, picnic tables, and additional bleachers. In 2001, when there were riots throughout Jos the weekend before 9/11 and curfews were in place all fall, they postponed the concert until Easter and concentrated more on the Easter numbers than the Christmas ones.

I missed singing in The Messiah this year because of Timothy's arrival. I had a pretty dimished lung capacity by the time rehearsals started in August, and it would have been difficult to sing in the performance with a three-week-old needing to eat somewhere between "All We Like Sheep" and "Lift Up Your Heads."

My senior year in college, I found out that the Wheaton College Conservatory of Music would be performing The Messiah with a guest conductor, Maestro John Nelson...the year after I graduated. As it turned out, I still lived in the area that next year and was a part of the community choir, the West Suburban Choral Union, which joined in the performance. Yes! So I got to sing this amazing piece of music under an equally amazing conductor. How cool is that?! And now I'll forever be spoiled; no performance of the Jos Community Choir will ever quite compare!

This is the ultimate CD for the Christmas season!

(Recipe 1) Makeover Eggnog

1¾ c sugar
¼ c flour
½ t salt
6 eggs, lightly beaten
3 t vanilla
2 t rum extract
4 c half-and-half
½ t nutmeg
2 qts milk (2%)

In large heavy saucepan, combine sugar, flour, and salt. Gradually whisk in milk and eggs until smooth. Cook and stir over low heat to 160F, about 20 minutes. Remove from heat, add extracts. Cover and chill 2 hours. Just before serving, strain eggnog. Add half-and-half and nutmeg. Makes about 3 quarts.

From Guideposts, December 2003.

*************************
We can't get eggnog in Nigeria, so Mom has often made her own. Sometimes she uses a mix from the States, but sometimes she makes it from scratch. I'm not sure what recipe she uses, but I found this one in her recipe file, so I thought I'd throw it in. Christmas just isn't Christmas without eggnog!

Christmas goodies for the tummy

I don't know about you, but I'm a food person. When I think about most holidays, the first things that come to mind are food items. Try me.

New Year's? Sparkling cider!
Valentine's Day? Chocolate, hopefully truffles.
Easter? Mom's butter lamb. (She moulds butter into the shape of a little sheep.)
My birthday? CAKE, yeah!
Fourth of July? Hot dogs & burgers.
Halloween? Baked pumpkin seeds and candy!
Thanksgiving? Mom's mince pie with sour cream topping

And now, of course, there's Christmas. When I think about Christmas, I think of two things: Music and Food. Oh sure, I'm as excited as anyone to receive gifts, and they're usually pretty fun to give, too. And of course behind all the commercialism is the Reason for the Season, the GOD-baby himself. Call me a heathen, but honestly, I think of music and food before I think of the Christ child. I'm with my dad in the camp that we should celebrate Christ's birth separately, just make up our own holy day instead of complaining that Christmas is so secularised.

So along the lines of Christmas food, I'm going to put up ten recipes for things my mother makes that I think of when I think "Christmas." They'll appear both here and on my mom's recipe blog, Mama's Choice Chop. And here, I think I'll add my top ten Christmas songs or albums--all over the next two weeks before Christmas. Enjoy!

The saga of Luke's haircut

Luke has always been afraid of haircuts, for as long as he's been in the Blyth household. And I mean a real phobia, not just that he doesn't like it. When he was littler, he used to throw tantrums whenever the scissors came out--screaming, crying, even throwing up. My parents joked about trying to sedate him in order to cut his hair; in fact, they might have even tried it, but I don't think it worked.

And then my dad discovered that Luke has a real love for personifying items. For example--in this case--Scissors. Yes, I meant to use a capital "S." You see, Scissors is Luke's friend. They talk together and have nice chats about hair-cutting and other things. Now that Scissors exists, it's possible to cut Luke's hair because it's a friendly operation.

But Luke's hair is the kind that ideally should be cut with electric clippers. For years, though, he's been terrified of the clippers, refusing to even let them near him. So Daddy recently created Clip, the friendly clippers. And it's worked! Luke actually used the clippers on himself right before Mom and Dad left. (He called it a "miracle.")

Luke's hair is pretty straggly, however. Dad only ever cuts a little bit at a time to keep Luke from going nuts, so it's always been pretty uneven. Well, David decided to give the whole head a makeover. He got out Scissors and Clip, and they did a fabulous job (though Clip is different from what David's used to and didn't do as close a cut as he wanted). Luke made it through--with a few tears and lots of complaining, and now his hair is evenly cut. Yay!

Surviving

It's Sunday night, but I know I won't be able to write much now. I think it's about bedtime! (Yeah, so what if it's only 9:10?) We're exhausted from a very busy weekend--at least it felt busy--and are crashing. But a note to the world that we're alive and have survived almost six days taking care of Luke. Yay! Hopefully my darling Timothy will let me put him down long enough tomorrow for me to write a real post. Until then, keep praying!

Baby Abigail's visit

You might remember that Mom and I went to the hospital on August 1 to pick up a baby girl less than an hour old. Mom has been a foster parent with the hospital's crisis pregnancy centre, ProLife, since its inception a few years ago. We named the baby Abigail, and she was with my parents until the end of September. At that time, she was adopted by a university professor and his wife, an educated and well-off couple who had been childless throughout their 13-year marriage.
---------I saw Baby Abigail at the well-baby clinic a month ago when I took Timothy to get his BCG and Hep B injections, and she was huge! Her parents had renamed her Ruth, and she was just adorable. Granted, I didn't spend much time talking to them because I was busy and because I was rather out of sorts, still sore and exhausted from delivery. But it was nice to see the little one.

----------Today, Abigail/Ruth's mother showed up with the baby--now four months old--to visit my parents. I sadly told her she'd missed them, that they left yesterday. But I took two photos to post so my parents can see how big Abigail is!

---------This is the kind of progress we love about fostering!!

The first day

It's been just over 24 hours since my parents left, and we're all still alive! Somehow we made it through the first day, and so I know we can make it through the whole month.

Oh sure, Luke's been trying to sneak things by me--like taking toys outside, which he knows is forbidden, and drinking cold water from the fridge, which Mom won't let him do because he either leaves the fridge open or forgets to put the water back in. And he alternates between saying he hates me and likes me...but that's nothing new! No, all in all, I think we'll do okay.

I actually think my biggest hurdle will be readjusting to cooking! I've got a meal plan for next week, so hopefully I can get everything I need on Friday's shopping trip. It's a good thing Luke's not a terribly picky eater, 'cause I'm going for simple and yummy--unlike my mom, who goes for exotic and absolutely scrumptious. Ah well. We can't all be my mom.

Please KEEP PRAYING for us!! I need more sleep, which I'm not going to get with Luke in the house, and that's frustrating. Thank God, though, he has a tutor who takes up most of his day time!

Also please pray for my parents, who are--as I type--in the air over the Atlantic Ocean and will arrive in Charlotte, NC, at about 9:30 tonight our time (3:30pm ET). They'll be in Charlotte for two days, I think, and then drive up to Lexington, VA, on Friday or Saturday--in time to attend my sister's Christmas concert. Yay!

Boy, I miss them already.

December with Luke

The final word is in from the Smiths, and they've decided not to take Luke.

-------This is sad because it means my parents will not be able to spend their whole six-month furlough in the States. (They're entitled to a year of rest, but they'd shortened it to six months when they realised there was no way they could take Luke with them.) So they plan to spend about eight weeks instead, all of December and January, and return in early February. They won't get all the rest they need, and they won't get to visit their supporting churches.

--------But they will get to see my siblings and their kids, and probably my dad's family in California.

--------And I'm selfishly glad they're returning so soon because I will miss my parents like crazy while they're gone. (And no, not just for my mom's cooking! How dare you even think it?!)

--------So that leaves David and me watching Luke for December, and another gracious family watching him for January. It should be an interesting month...

Chicken's end

Well, we decided not to keep the chicken. We thought it would be easier to just give it away than to go about the process of slaughtering, plucking, cleaning, and butchering it. So David drove the chicken to his sister's house and left it with a neighbour. (Hannatu was in Abuja.)

So that's the end of our chicken. We had a short but delightful acquaintance. We realise the immensity of the gift but are grateful for a clean way of disposing of it that's culturally acceptable, too.

Farewell, kazar Timothy!

Our [c]lucky day, OR Kazar Timothy

I was putting Timothy's clean diaper on after his bath around noon today when Mom came into the bathroom, laughing. She said I'd received a gift. I looked at her blankly, and she leaned over to whisper, "It's a live chicken!"

I carried my baby--with only a diaper on--out into the living room to greet our friend Maman Joshua, Auntie Esther. (See Joshua's birthday, from August 31, 2007) She'd come to meet baby Timothy, of course, or--as they call him--"bon boy," which I gather is pidgin for "baby boy." She held Timothy and smiled wide, speaking Hausa I couldn't understand and repeating, "Yayi kyau" ("It is good," or "It's beautiful").

Then I looked into the little basket at her feet, and--sure enough--a brown chicken looked back at me with beady eyes. My first thought was, Wow. This is a huge gift. My second thought, though, was, Oh my gosh. What am I going to do with it??

Maman Joshua handed the chicken to my mom's helper Sarah, who made a small space for it under my mom's kitchen counter. And there it is right now, probably pooping on the floor. David came home briefly for lunch and said he'd take care of the chicken. I have no idea how to slaughter a chicken, or remove its feathers, or anything! But I'm sure I'll chronicle it all for you to read about!

The latest on Luke

My parents are leaving in a week, and there is still no home for Luke. In their infinite graciousness, Mom and Dad decided they simply could not leave Luke with us for the full six months. I admit this was a relief of monstrous proportions.

So...Here's the current plan:

Mom and Dad will leave on December 4 as scheduled. David and I will watch Luke for the rest of December and into January. Then there are two possibilities

1. A missionary family--we'll call them the Smiths--will return from furlough and take Luke into their home. They've been approached about the possibility but haven't given a final "yes" or "no" yet. OR
2. Mom and Dad will return to Nigeria and continue working on the adoption, maybe planning on going on real furlough in the summer or next year.

Effectively, my parents still aren't sure whether they're leaving in a week for six months or for six weeks. In any case, they'll fly into Charlotte, NC, where our mission is headquartered. Then they'll spend three weeks with my sister Lisa in Virginia, and three weeks with my brother Jonathan in Wisconsin. In the meantime, David and I will stay in their house and take care of Luke.

This is a fantastic compromise, and I have no problem with it at all! Since I'm still on maternity leave, I don't have to worry about being distracted while trying to work. Luke's tutor Mr. Abe will still continue to come and teach Luke throughout most of the Christmas holidays. We've even had a few offers for respite care. Plus living in my parents' house will be a blessing--having running water, a deep freezer, a big TV, and a washing machine, all under one roof!

Oh, I know it will still be challenging parenting my brother, even for six weeks. But it's do-able. We'll make it. And hopefully we'll all learn a lot in the experience. I'm sure I'll have a lot to write about in the coming weeks!

The Curious Savage

Last night, the Hillcrest senior class of 2008 performed a witty and amusing play called The Curious Savage.

What a delight! I highly recommend seeing the play if ever you get a chance.

Here's what it's about. The play takes place in a sanitorium, the Cloisters, with a handful of main characters, none of whom is actually "crazy," but all of whom are rather eccentric. The newest addition to their group is Mrs. Savage, whose step-children have brought her to the Cloisters because she has tried to set up a memorial fund with her late husband's fortune--a fund to finance foolish dreams. In fact, Mrs. Savage has turned the fortune into bonds and hidden them, adding a twist to the story.

The Cloisters characters include

• Fairy May, a flighty and winsome young lady with a big imagination;
• Jeffrey, a young war veteran who carries the scar of losing his entire crew;
• Hannibal, an overweight statistician-turned-violinist;
• Florence, an upper-class woman of dignity and taste; and
• Mrs. Paddy, who stopped conversing years ago when her husband told her to "Shut up," and who only speaks to list the things she hates.

It's a fun way to spend a couple of hours, and I highly recommend the play.

Congrats to the Class of 2008 on an excellent performance!

The mob

Today we went on our weekly shopping trip--Mom, Baby Timothy, Mr. Magit (the man who drives for my aprents), and I--and came upon a huge traffic jam. We were on our way to the mission headquarters so Mom could withdraw some grocery money, and wham! We drove right into a mob of people. They were a peaceful mob, for the most part, but a mob nonetheless. Cars were parked all over both sides of the narrow road leading to headquarters, and people milled about in the middle of the road. Most of the people were men in long kaftans and caps, though there were a few women in long skirts and veils. It took us almost ten minutes to go a single block.

Why?

We found out there were two reasons.

One: People were coming to register for their trip to Mecca for the Haj. Apparently, the government subsidizes the trip for many people. And the rest can afford to go on their own.

Two: There was an appeal beginning in the Court of Appeals (around the corner from headquarters) as to the governor's claim to governorship in light of the elections in April (or was it May?) Some people doubt he actually won the election, so it's going to court.

OINK! (Only In Nigeria, Kai!)

Luke needs a home

Okay, so my family is facing a dilemme of immense proportions.

Mom and Dad are leaving for furlough in two weeks, and they still don't have a place for Luke to stay. Luke's 8-1/2 and can't leave the country for lots of immigration reasons. It's complicated. But my parents will be gone for six months, and so far, no one has been willing to take care of Luke. There's only one family who's volunteered, but they've been delayed in returning to Nigeria and don't know when they'll be able to come back.

So what do we do?

David and I could take Luke, and that might end up happening. But there are so many issues with that, it's hard to even begin. Luke is really high-maintenance. He has a bunch of special needs--both psychological and physical--and needs extra time and attention. He hasn't been able to pass the entrance exam into Hillcrest, so he schools at home with a private tutor, who may quit the job in February to do his required government service. At the moment, I'm a full-time nursing mom, exhausted 24/7, and when my maternity leave is up, I'm returning to two intense jobs (working from home, though). David will be taking a big, important medical exam in April and has to study pretty intensively between now and then. And he'll be gone most of the month of April to take the exam down South. I'm a high-stress person in the best of times, just like my mom. I worry about everything. I'm not sure how a spoiled ADD 8-year-old with cerebral palsy would fit into my home life!

But he's my brother. And someone has to take care of him. It's not fair for my parents to have to delay their home assignment and rest in the States because no one will take care of Luke. There has to be a solution. And if we're it, then that's the way it's going to be. I'm terrified, but maybe this is a stretching experience for David and me (mostly me). Maybe God is leading us into a huge learning opportunity. Who knows?

All the same, I'm still crossing my fingers that we'll find Luke a home somewhere else in the next two weeks!! Please pray with us!

Has it been another week?

I have a good excuse for not posting! People keep telling me I need to sleep whenever the baby sleeps. Duh. That makes sense. It's not as easy as it sounds--especially since I've never been good at napping, being a light sleeper--but I'm trying!

On Thursday, David helped carve his first jack-o-lantern! I know, we were a little late in this Halloween tradition, but since it's not a holiday celebrated here at all, there was no harm in waiting for a good evening. It was a small pumpkin, and so our lantern was quite simple. Luke drew the nose, which is why it's rectangular instead of triangular. Oh well!

Saturday afternoon we attended the Hillcrest Food Fair, which the PTA organises every other year. There were booths with Nigeria, India, Korea, Lebanon, the UK, Australia (and New Zealand), Ethiopia, Egypt & Sudan, and the US & Canada. Very cool! David tried some Korean fried rice, and I had some delicious Ethiopian bread, called injera. We had a nice chat with our friends Sara and Sunny (another mixed couple), who are in town for three weeks.

Sunday was our first anniversary. We went out to lunch at the nicest restaurant in town, Elysar, which offers an assortment of both Lebanese and Chinese food. Yum! After a nap at home, we played games at my parents' (like every Sunday) with Marc. After dinner we cut into the top layer of our wedding cake, which had been in Mom and Dad's freezer for a year. It was delicious, amazingly! I'm glad I finally got to taste a piece! :) Then we had "Advent" (of sorts, even though we're 2 weeks ahead of the Church calendar) and played some more games. What a fun anniversary! We really thank God for helping us make it through the past year!!

The past week

Well, a week ago, I was labouring at home in bed, and today I have a little boy sleeping beside me as I type. How do these things happen? Is God cool or what?!

Obviously, this has been one of the most exciting, awesome, tumultous, exhausting, and intense weeks of my whole life. Getting married was definitely a milestone, but this goes way above and beyond a wedding and honeymoon. The mixture of sheer joy and utter exhaustion seems impossible, but it's oh so real! It overwhelms me how much my life has completely changed just in a few short days--a few short hours, really.

I'm a mom. Weird. And yet so cool.

It's been a rough but wonderful week. As you can imagine, I'm so tired I could probably sleep for several days straight if given the chance. But I've always been good at coping with sleep deprivation. (My freshman year of college I figured out I got an average of 4 hours of sleep a night for a whole semester.) I wake up in the middle of the night and look over into the drawer that serves as Timothy's bed, and I'm blown away. He's so perfect, so tiny and adorable with ten little toes and ten little fingers, and his daddy's nose. And when he opens his eyes and looks at me, I just melt. Other times I wake up and panic for not having heard him peep in several minutes. But he's always okay. When I kiss him, he stirs, and I know he's all right.

Anyway, I'm still going to try to keep my baby thoughts mostly in my baby blog, but it's impossible for me to separate motherhood from the rest of my life, so there'll have to be some sort of mix. Enjoy it!

Baby's here

Timothy Marc arrived Monday, 5 November 2007 at 3:40pm, weighing 3kg (6lbs 10oz). He's ADORABLE!

Photos: http://tinyurl.com/ypvxfy More to come, I promise.

Hosting a murder

Last Thursday was Marc's 24th birthday, so I decided to host a murder.

Have you ever done one of those? Here's how it works:

You gather a bunch of people together--in this case, eight--for a party. Each person is given a role to play and knows only a bit about himself before attending the party. Costumes are optional but make the game much more fun.

Once the guests arrive, each one is given a little booklet to play the game. On the first page are the rules, which all read aloud. Next, the scene is set so the guests have some idea of where they are and why they've been called to this particular setting. Then each guest silently reads additional information about himself included in the booklet. These are juicy bits of information that are meant for him to either "Reveal" or "Conceal." After the guests introduce themselves and listen to a tape recording of the murder event to which they are now witnesses, there are four rounds during which the guests--and the host, if he's participating--try to discover the murderer. Each person has a motive, and usually an opportunity, which comes out during these rounds. Guests try to conceal the information that incriminates them and reveal information about others to incriminate them. This involves revealing secret clues with additional information. It's all an acting game, throwing yourself into your assigned role and defending your character to the best of your ability, while shamelessly accusing all other guests of vile acts.

We met in ancient Rome, at the home of a renowned poet, and had to figure out which one of us had killed him. It was great fun! Mom made a wonderful meal, and I made and decorated a birthday cake. We all sat down and dove into the game. Part of the fun is that not even the murderer knows he's the murderer until the very end of the game, so each of us could equally be the guilty one. The game was littered with corny jokes and funny jokes alike, and references to modern culture, and we all had a good laugh--especially at the "laurel crown" with which our glorious Caesar adorned himself for the evening. (Oh how I wish I had photos!)

But I can't tell you who the murderer was! Maybe you'll want to play it, too! Check out How to Host a Murder®.

http://howtohost.fanhq.com/Catalog/ProductDetails.aspx?itemID=5003&CategoryID=false&BLink=True&keyword=roman%20ruins&Page=0&STo=5003

Carnival Dinner '07

Saturday night, about 6:15, we all piled into my parents' white Toyota station wagon and set off for the Carnival Dinner. There are so few events here in the missions community of Jos that I get excited about all of them! Every year, the 10th graders put together a fundraiser we call the Carnival. When I was in high school (does that phrase make me sound old or what?), the Carnival Dinner was part of the Carnival, put on in early March. The class not only organised a whole day of activities--mostly for children--like a fun fair, with face-painting, horseback riding, a zip line, a bouncing castle, a water slide, lots of food and prizes, etc, but they also organised a special dinner that same night, in two different seatings. It was a lot of work.

Actually, I was on furlough when my class did the Carnival, so I didn't lift a finger to help. Thank God.

A few years later, though, someone brilliant suggested the sophomores split up the dinner from the rest of the event. They could have the Carnival Dinner in the fall and the Carnival in the Spring. *ding!* What a noval idea!

So on Saturday, we went to the Carnival Dinner, put on by the sophomores--to whom I taught English for three weeks in September. I was eager to see them shine and to eat yummy Italian food.

But we got to the Hill Station intersection, about halfway from our compound to the school, and discovered complete mayhem. Now, I've seen bad traffic, and I've sat in terrible jams, but I'd never seen anything like this in Jos. We sat at the intersection--and then in the intersection--for over 15 minutes. Total chaos reigned, as cars darted and inched all around the junction. (I guess I should mention that the traffic light at this particular junction hasn't worked in at least five years.) Motorcycles rushed helter-skelter in between larger vehicles. Cars turned right and made U-turns to turn right again and by-pass the major trouble. Vehicles to our right turned left in front of us and vice versa. When David made to climb out of the car and try to bring order, we all shouted at him--kindly, of course--to get back in the car, where he was safe! Finally, some concerned and angry drivers left their cars holding belts and stood in the middle of the intersection to direct traffic or else. We carefully pulled through the junction and inched up the road on the other side, which was congested by cars doing U-turns in the middle of the street. What a nightmare!

And somehow we made it to the dinner only ten minutes late! Boy, were we hungry, and the food was spectacular. We feasted on breadsticks with parmesan cheese (which you can't get here, so it's a particular delicacy), Caesar salad (which, I'm sure, was also brought in a dressing packet from the States), lasagna, chicken parmesan with spaghetti, pizza, and afterward, brownies with vanilla ice-cream and chocolate sauce. Yum!! And to drink they served ice-cold water and chilled berry juice, plus coffee and tea, and each table was served a bottle of sparkling grape juice. WOW! Each table was decorated with red, white, or green strips of cloth, sprinkled with uncooked pasta, and sported a lit candle in a glass bottle and a vase with an Italian flag, ferms, and roses. The only thing missing was romantic Italian music--which, we heard later, had been planned but wouldn't play because of the extra-low current that evening. (We also heard that the poor sophomores had been cooking in the kitchen by candlelight!) It was the best Carnival Dinner I've been to ever, perhaps, and I'm so proud of my sophomores (and their class sponsors)! Thank you!

Burning heartache

The past few months I've been experiencing heartburn, but this is altogether different.

My heart goes out to all of my family and friends who are in Southern California. Next to Wheaton, Southern California is the closest thing in the U.S. I have to "home," and so many of my loved ones live there. I've been glad to hear that my host family in Encinitas for the 2005-2006 year are safe, and their house has not been affected by the fires. But so many others have had to flee their homes, and I'm still not sure what the outcome is, or will be. One of the churches that supports my parents has burned down, and the church where my brother-in-law grew up has also burned down.

Honestly, a selfish part of me is glad to be here during this crisis, far away from all the destruction and pain. I heard so much about the 2003 San Diego fires while I lived in San Diego, and all the talk scared me. I thank God I live in a place without any such natural disasters. (Instead we have malaria, meningitis, cholera, typhoid, and HIV.) But I do love southern California in many ways, and inside me, I am weeping for my kauye, my village. Please remember my family and friends in your prayers.

A shower of blessing

Yesterday I was the "guest of honour" at Baby Kes' baby shower, and I'm still overwhelmed by the love and gifts showered upon Kes and me. My friends and family had organised a cross-continents shower, with gifts coming from as far away as Korea. Wow!!

~ ~ ~ ~ The funniest part of the shower--not funny "haha" necessarily--was that it was in the same place, attended by many of the same people, as had been my bridal shower almost exactly a year earlier! They pronounced me a good Nigerian wife for giving my husband a baby within a year of our wedding, and we all laughed (though I was embarrassed by this public pronouncement).

~ ~ ~ ~ The shower attendees were even more international than the gifts, coming from the U.S., Canada, Ireland, France, New Zealand, Nigeria, and India. I hadn't realised that baby showers were an American thing, but I assured my good Irish friend--who's getting married in April to a Nigerian man--that we'll throw her a baby shower when the time comes, even if it's not cultural! One surprise was seeing my classmate Aaron, who's just returned to Nigeria after having schooled and lived in the U.S. for seven years. He dropped off his wife and picked her up afterward, so I got to have a nice chat with him.

~ ~ ~ ~ My "theme," if you want to call it that, for my baby decor and toys is African animals, and the shower centered around that. The shower started with a game led by a fellow Nigerwife (and my former English teacher). We had a list of animals and had to come up with the different names of their family members: mother, father, baby, and group. Did you know that a group of penguins is called a parade? Or that a mother bear is called a sow? We had lots of fun and learned a lot about how little we know. :)

~ ~ ~ ~ I was overwhelmed by gifts. I loved each and every one (including Pampers and wipes, which are pretty darn expensive here), and I'm thankful to everyone who contributed to make Kes and me feel special! Some of our highlights were:

• a bib that I cross-stitched for a friend's baby seven years ago, that she returned for my own baby;
• a windchime in the shape of a monkey (excuse me, infant--the name of a baby monkey);
• stuffed animals, especially a fleecy dog and several giraffes (including a purple one);
• a hospital bag full of goodies and necessities for delivery;
• pain-relieving spray (I'm serious!);
• a jungle animals diaper bag;
• two Curious George onesies.

~ ~ ~ ~ All in all, we had a wonderful time, full of laughs and excitement. And now I'm even more eager to Kes to arrive!

I bless the rains down in Africa

It rained today, for the first time in two weeks (and two weeks ago, it only rained for maybe five or ten minutes). I'd come home from taking something over to my parents' house around lunchtime, and I was just bushed. I'm always tired these days, so I lay down to take a nap. Well, after maybe half an hour, I heard the wind rushing through the eucalyptus and mango trees behind our house. I'd noticed that it was a bit cloudy, but I thought, Certainly it can't rain. The rainy season is over.

And then I heard the first pitter-patter of liquid life, dripping onto our tin roof. It lulled me back to sleep.

When David came home after work, I woke up when he came into the room. "David," I said, "I dreamt that it rained." He smiled ruefully and said, "Not very likely, though." And so I really thought I had dreamt it all--the wind moving through the house and the sound of rain sprinkling down.

Within ten minutes, the same wind came pouring through the house, and I heard the telltale sounds of coming rain. David looked out the window. "Wow," he breathed. "Rain." Sure enough, water began to sprinkle down, then pound on the roof above us. I couldn't believe it. The smell of wet earth seeped through the open windows, and I inhaled deeply.

It rained for more than a half hour, and we reveled in it.

It may rain once or twice more before the heavy dusts move in from the North, but this was probably the last of the heavy rains--just when we'd mournfully put away our umbrellas for the season. With little surprises like these, how can anyone not believe in a good God?

A moment of fright

Last night when David and I came home from my parents' house, David took out his key to unlock the kitchen door and said, "The cat runs out every time we open the door." I told him that this time, though, I had food for her, so she'd come right back in again.

So I was a little surprised when she didn't dart outside as soon as we'd opened the door. I stepped inside and heard her mewing from behind the door. What on earth? I put down the things I was carrying and looked toward the door. Zoë had her paw stuck, angled underneath the open door! (When she hears us outside on the porch, she often sticks her paw under the door to welcome us.)

This had never happened before! When we'd opened the kitchen door, we'd inadvertently squashed her paw beneath it. It was wedged pretty tightly. I cried out for David to come and help me. He set down his things and approached. But he was as puzzled as I. How could we get Zoë's paw out from under the door? Swinging the door on its hinge either way only worsened the wedge. (I'm sure my grampa could have solved the problem without any trouble, but we were perplexed.)

Then David reached up and began picking pieces of concrete from around the top of the doorframe. For the whole time we've lived in this flat, we've complained about its falling apart, losing plaster every time you shut the door sort of thing. But this time, it saved Zoë! David removed two large chunks of concrete that had been put in between the wooden doorframe and the fake brick of the house. Then he lifted up the doorframe, unstuck Zoë's paw, and put the concrete pieces back in place.

Zoë's paw was fine, and we just laughed and laughed about taking our house apart to get her free. We're not likely to complain too much about our house's falling apart anymore, since it helped get Zoë out of a real tight spot!

Loss of concentration

I had a hard time deciding whether to post this here in my regular blog or in my baby blog because it fits both. So maybe I'll copy it over.

The problem is that I can no longer keep them separate this way! Obviously, I can still write "only" about the baby, but I can't "only" write about everyday life anymore!! I've finally reached the point of not being able to really concentrate on anything long enough to get much work done. Part of it is just, as I said, lack of concentration. But a lot of it is this enormous fatigue. As soon as I sit down with the computer to work, or even to email or spend some time on Facebook, I want to lie down and take a nap--even if I've just woken up!

I'm told this whole experience is normal and will only increase in severity until delivery. Boy, and then talk about being consumed with Baby! But at least then I'll have a few weeks off and won't have to worry about my work efficiency. Should I quit early, or should I continue to struggle with not getting enough done to warrant my status of "working"?

I'm really going to make people sick of me if all I can think about or talk about is this baby coming. Yesterday I got to eight months, so if I were to deliver this week, my baby would probably be just fine. And I've heard lots of stories of women delivering early! (But most of the stories are about women delivering their first babies significantly late. My nephew Rowan was 12 days late. But David says my doctors won't let me get beyond 10 days post-due before they induce. What a relief!)

Help! How am I going to work in this state??

Friday night blues

It's almost 7pm on a Friday night, and here I am, all alone in my parents' house (since the Internet in our own home hasn't worked for months). Mom and Dad are on vacation this week, so I'm making sure the house is okay and the dog is fed. Both very difficult tasks, I assure you.

I'm not one of those people who loves being alone. I can take it for awhile, and as an introvert, I need some alone time. But it grates on my nerves after not too long. When I've been asked to house-sit in the States, I've always ended up turning on the TV while I do something else (besides watch it) just so that there's some noise. It's not that I don't like silence. I just don't like empty silence--knowing that there's no one else around. I never feel safe. I guess that's from spending my early childhood in Los Angeles, always worried about a thief in my closet or some crazy child-snatcher coming in through my bedroom window. And now with armed robbery so rampant in Jos, I feel less safe than ever when I'm alone at night.

This is the life of a resident's wife; what can I say? I knew it would be like this, and I don't for a second regret marrying a doctor.

But it sure does get lonely.

Chickenville

I've never been to a real farm. At least, not that I can actually remember. I'm talking Western farms here. Everywhere in Nigeria is a farm, practically speaking. If you walk the five minutes from here to the hospital proper, all within our walled compound, you'll pass a dozen or more little plots of land. People grow all sorts of things, from corn to cocoyams. Everyone has a plot of land--or finds one--to plant something or other.

And I've been to a farm in Thailand, actually. I don't remember much about it, but my teammates and I took a bus with our Thai friend Bii out to a farm in the countryside surrounding the town where we taught English. It was a sweltering, humid day (like most we experienced in Thailand that summer), and it was a fair walk from the roadside bus stop out to the chicken farm. We passed an old abandoned temple with a crematorium attached. *shudder* And I remember seeing the hundreds and hundreds of chickens in their warehouse-like building. But I don't do well in heat, and I sat on the porch of Bii's relative's house, sipping a cold drink, while the others went gallavanting. When we returned to the States and went through customs, we admitted we'd been on a farm, so they had to check our shoes for bacteria or whatever it is they check for! And that made us almost miss our coonnecting flight...

Farms...

But I can easily imagine what it sounds like on a farm. Oh yes. This morning, the rooster woke me up at about 6:15. This isn't particularly unusual. If you know anything about roosters, you know that all those storybooks you read as a child are lying, and that roosters crow anytime they darn well please. I'm used to roosters. But for some reason, this morning I couldn't get back to sleep. I told David if I had a shotgun, I'd go put the rooster out of his misery! He just kept carrying on and carrying on. I wanted to throttle him! He'd crow, and then a raspy crow would respond from a rooster elsewhere on the compound. It went on like this for at least a half hour before I fell asleep again. David and I joked that this part of our compound has become the chickens' quarters. "Chickenville," we finally decided to call it.

And then there's the goats. Our neighbour keeps goats. Again, it's like farms here on the compound. Most people keep some sort of animal, especially chickens or goats. David noted that our neighbour's herd is really growing quickly--with lots of new kids within the last few weeks--and that soon she'll find raising goats more profitable than working at the hospital!

So although I haven't ever been to a farm in the American sense of the word, I don't think I'm missing a whole lot!

No way!

Oh my gosh! It's RAINING!?!?!

The finished product

When I first heard in May 2006 that my sister was expecting a baby, I had just learned to crochet. My aunt had bought me a great teaching book and some hooks and yarn, so I thought I'd try my hand at one of the patterns in the book, the Mile-a-Minute Blanket.

Needless to say, as a beginning crocheter, I was not able to crochet a mile a minute.

And finally, almost 18 months later, I have completed the said blanket! Okay, so there was a period of about a year when I didn't work on it even one stitch. Hey, one gets busy. There's a lot of things to do. And once my nephew Ethan was born last December, I lost steam, thinking, "Oh great. I've missed the boat. Now what?"

But when my sister said a few months ago, "So now that you're pregnant, are you going to finish that blanket and keep it for your own baby, or are you still going to give it to Ethan?" I cringed. At the time, I was swamped with work. But last week when I had nothing at all to do, and David was on call, I got out my yarn and more-than-half-finished blanket, and set to work.

So Lisa, the blanket is finally finished! And I'm looking for someone who can hand-carry it to the States and put it in the mail for Ethan. A gift for All Saints' Day or something! I'm humiliated that it's taken this long, but at least it's complete. Not the greatest craftsmanship, granted, but I'm still a beginner, so I ask for grace.

Needing earplugs

There's been a Christian rally here for the past two days, at the polo field next to our house: "There Cometh One Mightier than All." And although I've heard lots of rallies and what-not from over there, this had been the loudest I ever remember. From our bedroom, every word is clear as crystal and thunders in through the windows we've closed to keep it out. Yesterday I hid in the living room--on the far side of the house--and turned on The Phantom of the Opera highlights CD. It's a good CD to listen to with high volume anyway. When David woke up from his nap, we watched Miss Congeniality with the volume up really loud to cover up the preaching.

Later, when NEPA (our power) went off after dinner, we sat around with my parents trying to catch a word or two of the preaching. It was almost entirely incoherent, but we found it amusing to try and catch a few words. David tried hard to make out the Hausa translation done in undertones beneath the main miked speaker. We were able to make out "cast out demons in Jesus' name!"

I really thought we were all going to go crazy. Luke (8) went to bed with earplugs in, and for awhile, we all expected to do the same.

But God is so good! The preaching ended at around 9:30, and we were all able to sleep in comparative peace and quiet. What a blessing!

But now the preaching and singing have resumed, so we have to wrack our brains and come up with ways to cover up the sound. For the first time I can remember, I asked Luke to turn up the volume on the movie he's watching instead of turning it down. It's not that we don't like preaching. But we don't like being forced to hear preaching, especially when we can't understand most of it. At least now they're singing a recognisable song, "He is Lord."

The cynic asks, Is the "one mightier than all" the preacher, or the Christ he's preaching?