Waiting

No offense to Americans, but we are an impatient people. Perhaps this is a good thing in some ways, for it seems to have produced a system in which efficiency is important. Time is money, and therefore, things must move quickly or someone loses cash. It's got its downsides, though, too. We hate queuing, delays, traffic, tardiness. We don't value the things we do but rush to get them done so we can move on to the next thing. Instead of enjoying, for example, a snow day, we worry about the delay in the work we could be doing at the office. While stuck in traffic, we could listen to uplifting music, pray, compose poetry, or use our expansive imaginations to create tales about people in other cars. Waiting in a queue on Black Friday, we could strike up a conversation with the woman behind us about her purchases or her Thanksgiving feast.

 

Yes, that's idealistic. I myself am guilty of impatience. I feel for Inigo in The Princess Bride: "I hate waiting." I want things done now, not tomorrow, and certainly not two weeks from now.

 

Africans, my husband included, have a lot to teach me about waiting. I'm not sure whether they're good waiters because the system is so slow in general, or whether the system is so slow because people don't mind waiting; it's the chicken and the egg. But either way, Africans know how to wait patiently. I'm not saying people don't grumble. But somehow, life goes on, even when October's salary isn't paid until January, when the traffic police cause an hour's delay in a long journey, when the electrician who says he's "coming right now" doesn't actually show up for three days... I see it all around me: people who know a thing or two about waiting.

 

David and I are waiting for something, too. David has a hugely important interview on Thursday, 4 December, at roughly 08:00 GMT+1 (02:00 Eastern U.S.) in Lagos, and I find myself waiting. I get worried about absolutely everything (I get it from my mom), but this will cause me to lose sleep. As I type, David is on a night bus to Lagos, which in itself makes me cringe. Night buses are notoriously unsafe, between armed robbery on the road and traffic accidents. But I trust he'll arrive safely. In the meantime, I'm waiting for a text message to say he's safely at Point A along the journey. And then tomorrow I have to wait here while he waits there, just sitting and waiting. Thursday morning will be the worst, waiting for his message about how the interview went.

 

I hate waiting.

No longer a refugee

We came home yesterday afternoon, before the 18:00 curfew. It felt wonderful to be in my own home again, with David. I'd never really entertained the thought that I might not be back, but it still was comforting to see my familiar things--even the crumbling walls and burnt out kitchen light.

 

Yesterday was a long day. In the morning, the gunfire started again at 06:20, just after the curfew lifted. It went on for several hours on the other side of town. We heard nasty rumours about the way Christians were reacting to the previous day and ill-treating Muslims. I don't know how much is true, but I suspect a great deal of it is, and that saddens me more than anything else about this whole ordeal. Somebody mentioned the possibility of a 24-hour curfew, so we thought we'd likely be staying quite a bit longer.

 

By noon, the gunfire had almost stopped altogether, and a group of men from our compound returned to their homes to gather some more food and assess the situation. When they returned and reported to Dad--who had stayed at the other compound, watching Timothy while he slept--Dad decided it would be all right for us to return home. The other families stayed in town, but we packed up our belongings, listened politely to admonitions to stay, and left around 17:15. On the way home, we passed by two destroyed motorcycles, and when we saw the place where we'd seen flames on Friday, Dad told us that it was a mosque, not a shop. I couldn't help but cringe. There were several armoured vehicles near the hospital compound, and lots of soldiers and police.

 

We surprised David, who was visibly glad to see us. Mom and I made pizza for dinner--our usual Friday night fare, since we'd missed it on Friday--and watched a Star Trek Voyager episode. David told me later that he'd been upset when he'd found out we had just up and left on Friday. Mom had told me not to bother calling David at work because the man calling the shots was working with David at the hospital, so David would be appraised of the situation. Well, he hadn't been, and he hadn't gotten my texts until awhile later, after we'd left, since he'd been in surgery when we left the compound. In retrospect, I should have talked to him personally, made sure he knew what was going on. If there ever is a next time, we'll get a chance to discuss it, and maybe I won't have to leave without my husband.

 

This morning has been relatively quiet, with only a few sporadic gunshots. Even most of the churches--probably empty--are quiet, which is extremely rare for a Sunday morning. Usually they'd be blasting their worship music and preaching for the whole neighbourhood to hear. But not this morning. Perhaps this morning we can take a sobering few moments to mourn the dead and seek God's forgiveness.

A day to remember

I fled my house today.

 

David woke me up at about 06:45 to tell me he thought there was trouble. I'd heard the sirens in my sleep and realised with a start that I also heard gunshots. And the sirens were going on and on--one after another. There were local elections here yesterday, and the governor had deployed troops to keep the peace. But that was yesterday. For all we knew, the troops had gone back to the barracks to catch some sleep after an uneventful day.

 

We didn't say much to each other, as David headed off to the hospital and told me that there was no way I was going to work today. There was smoke rising from several different points in nearby neighbourhoods, and the gunshots kept coming.

 

At about 08:15, I went over to my parents' house, thinking maybe I could do work there. None of us were going to leave the compound, but I figured I could still work. Then we heard that school was canceled at Hillcrest, that there were roadblocks, and that travel was restricted.

 

My parents' driver/gardener came around 08:45, and we reproached him for trekking all the way to our house. He told us of youths on the streets, of burning tires, of soldiers, of people out with knives and big sticks. We sent him back home as long as he thought he could make it back to his children all right.

 

Dad kept on the radio with the other compound missionaries and others in different compounds around town. We kept hearing gunshots, but they seemed to get fewer and farther between. The shouts we'd heard earlier seemed to have dissipated somewhat. But smoke still rose from several parts of town. David came to Mom and Dad's house around 10:15 wanting breakfast. I made him an omelette sandwich, and he left immediately after finishing. He seemed perfectly calm.

 

At some point, one of the missionaries on our compound decided that we'd better evacuate. We hurriedly packed "flee bags" and loaded the car. Dad didn't seem too worried, but we were obeying orders nonetheless. After about a half hour, all the missionaries had gathered by the back gate to the hospital--which is normally kept shut religiously--and caravanned to another mission compound farther from the trouble. We passed several road blocks, lots of marooned vehicles along the shoulder, and one or two shops in flames along the roadside. There was only one other car we saw on the 10-minute drive to the other compound.

 

We'd had to leave David behind, doing surgery in the hospital. My heart almost broke.

 

Once we arrived, around 12:10, the men got together to discuss our next steps, while we women gathered in a missionary's home for cold water and snacks. Each lady told about her own experience of the morning, and we prayed. My neigbour Stacey prayed for David.

 

It was a restless afternoon. We got all sorted out into people's homes, and I put Timothy down for a nap and read my mystery book. But Dad was in meetings, and we didn't know what would happen. Eventually, it was decided that we'd spend the night here. Later this afternoon, the radio announced a 6pm to 6am curfew.

 

At 18:00, we all gathered in a backyard gazebo--with the kids in chairs around a bonfire--and had a potluck supper. It was a cheery affair, and Timothy enjoyed himself thoroughly--eating gravel, banging a casserole dish lid, touching baby Hayden's soft blond hair, and generally making his presence known. I missed David.

 

So tonight we're in someone else's house. Thankfully, they were out of town, so we don't have to be awkward by crowding in with them. They were told not to return home today as they'd planned, so we have the house to ourselves. Timothy had a nice bath, and then he took 40 minutes to go to sleep. *sigh* It's been a long day. I miss my husband.

 

But we are thankful for safety for all of us, even for left-behind David. God has been good to us. And so we pray for peace today in our town, which is--after all--the home of peace and tourism.

Urgent

There is trouble this morning. Please pray.

Thanksgiving in Nigeria

05:22 - I groggily open my eyes to realise Timothy is fussing. I get him out of his Pack 'n Play and bring him into bed, where I nurse him, and he goes back to sleep. (The advantage of these really early mornings is that he goes back to sleep and sometimes sleeps past 08:00.)

 

06:50 - David shakes me awake. "I'm eating breakfast. Do you want me to make you some tea?" (Tea = hot Milo.) I debate: Either I sleep with Timothy and feel more rested, or I have breakfast with David, which happens even more seldom. I get up.

 

07:28 - David leaves for ward rounds. I light a scented candle our friend Laura gave us as a wedding present two years ago. Lime cilantro...what a strange but delightful combination!

 

07:48 - Timothy wakes up. I get him out of bed. He runs around with two small Vaseline jars and my glasses case while I get dressed. I get to wear jeans today - very exciting!

 

08:03 - I put on a CD collection of Contemporary Christian Music. Timothy starts to dance.

 

08:16 - I sit down with Timothy to give him a pumpkin muffin and apple juice for breakfast. (I remember the days when you couldn't get apple juice, and that was all I ever ordered on the flights to the States!) Of course, he makes a royal mess. Note to self: When looking for an apartment, if you have a choice, get one with no carpeting in the dining room.

 

08:35 - Finished breakfast! Timothy takes the washcloth I used to wipe him off and wipes the floor, his toys, his mouth, a remote control...

 

08:41 - I sit down with Murder Must Advertise, and Timothy climbs all over me. He's whiny and keeps squirming. I wish his cold would go away once and for all.

 

09:48 - David returns from ward rounds finally. We chat, and he sits down at the computer to browse the news and find friends on Facebook, which he's just joined. Timothy breaks another key (Ctl) on the keyboard. (He already broke the Alt key earlier this week, just tore it right off.)

 

10:55 - David goes back to the hospital for a surgical procedure. (He's on call today.) Timothy climbs into the footlocker where I keep his too-big clothes, and he plays, throwing the clothes around. I go back to my book.

 

11:14 - Timothy and I have a snack of canned hot dogs. I have salt craving a lot these days, not sure why. Timothy loves hot dogs! Someday he'll taste real ones, not tinned ones.

 

11:57 - It's warm, so I take off Timothy's trousers and let him run around in his Busy Bugs T-shirt. We start over to Mom and Dad's for lunch. Mom's made tuna pasta salad, one of my favourites. Yum! Timothy won't eat it but instead eats a huge helping of yogurt with strawberry jam.

 

13:20 - Timothy and I get ready to head home and start cooking. I put on his shoes and shorts just as David returns from the hospital. We watch him eat lunch. Now Timothy eats the pasta salad! I tell David he should feed Timothy more often.

 

13:45 - All three of us return home. Timothy will go down for a nap if I'm lucky, and I can start cooking for the potluck tonight. I said I'd bring Thanksgiving Corn Pudding... But the Internet isn't connecting, which means I can't access my recipe. Aargh! Furthermore, Timothy is refusing to sleep.

 

14:05 - I sit on the porch to see if I can get a wireless signal. It works - yay!! Timothy walks around the porch carrying our blue mop (as opposed to the  red and brown ones). There's also a handy-dandy child's handle on our front screen door, so he loves to open the door and let it bang shut. I copy the recipe into a Word file, save it, and Timothy and I go back inside.

 

14:20 - I lie down on the living room floor to encourage Timothy to nap. After seven minutes, he's fast asleep between two throw pillows, the empty DVD case he was playing with by his side.

 

15:34 - I finish putting together my corn pudding and hand it off to Mom to bake in her already-hot oven. (Why waste gas?) She had to come over to bring me four eggs for the recipe, and Timothy is still asleep, so I couldn't go over there. The recipe calls for milk, so I had to open a new bag of Dano milk powder for the occasion. (We can't get fresh milk.) While Mom bakes the pudding, I'll cook the glaze...and hope Timothy keeps sleeping!

 

15:55 - The glaze is finished and ready to go on the pudding whenever it's baked--and after Timothy wakes up. I suppose there's no rush. Silly me: I used a liquid measuring cup to measure out my 1/2 cup of butter, but I used boiled drinking water, which of course got all mucked up with buttery grease. Next time--when I know it's going to boil--I'll have to remember to use tap water from our buckets. Timothy is still asleep!

 

16:07 - David comes home and sits down to eat two tangerines and an orange. Timothy is still asleep. I gather items into his diaper bag, unhook his sassy seat from the table, and wait for Timothy to wake up so we can go to Grandma's house and put the glaze on the corn pudding before we leave for the potluck.

 

16:26 - I wake Timothy up by putting on a Kids' Praise tape. David and I carry all our stuff over to Mom and Dad's house, where I put the glaze on the corn and help load the car. David takes Timothy down to the hospital.

 

16:51 - We leave Mom and Dad's house and pick up David and Timothy at the hospital gate. (Daddy almost forgets to stop for them!) We enjoy a yummy potluck supper of the usual Nigeria-Thanksgiving fare, including roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, corn, salad, deviled eggs, rolls, and lots of fruit. (No turkey, maybe some cranberry sauce, but it's the canned kind and very expensive, no Martinelli's...) Timothy especially likes the crescent rolls and mashed potatoes. I share my lemon meringue pie with Timothy but not my apple tart.

 

18:45 - or thereabouts, Timothy is finally let down from his sassy seat outside in the yard. He follows around some of the friendly neighbour dogs, wanders around the outside of the house, and knocks over a tiki torch. Heather screams as the torch falls to the ground near her table and sets the dry grass ablaze. It's a tiny fire, and someone tells one of the boys to put it out by stepping on it. The boy does, and the fire goes out, but all of us are rattled. Fortunately, most people didn't notice. Timothy goes back into his sassy seat for the rest of the evening.

 

18:56 - Randy begins our worship time with prayer. Then Meredith leads us in some praise choruses, and Timothy tries to sing along, even though he's got a pacifier in his mouth. Mark gives a devotional and Meredith plays a few more songs. By this time, Timothy won't sit still in the sassy seat anymore but wants OUT. I let him down and follow him around while Peter gives a closing prayer. We pack up, after a little trouble finding our [clean] dishes.

 

19:41 - We get back to Mom and Dad's, and David and I take Timothy home. My little boy is tired and goes to sleep as soon as I feed him and put him in his Pack 'n Play.

 

20:11 - David follows suit, leaving me at the computer to upload photos and finish my blog posting. It's been a long day, and there's work tomorrow. Plus David is on call, so he needs to sleep while he can. I'll follow soon! But the Internet isn't connecting, so this will have to be posted at a later time.

 

We thank God for all of His blessings to us in our lives!!

Nighttime surprise

I woke up in the night and turned over to get more comfortable. Then I sat up in bed and poked David.

 

"David, what's that on my pillow?"

 

He turned over, glanced at my pillow, and said, "It's nothing. Turn on the light."

 

I reached over and turned on the bedside lamp while David leaned forward for a closer look. "It's not a fuzzy caterpillar?" I asked him.

 

"It is," he said, grabbing the pillow and heading outside.

 

I had trouble sleeping the rest of the night, worried about fuzzy caterpillars crawling on me. Every time I woke up, I'd check my pillow for another intruder. But we were safe the rest of the night. I just felt so violated by a crawly critter in my bed!

 

For those of you unfamiliar with fuzzy caterpillars, they are 1 to 2 inches long and look, well, fuzzy. Their "fur" sticks out and makes them look nice and soft, but if you touch it, you get a terribly itchy rash. I've never actually been unfortunate enough to experience it myself--at least, not that I know of--but we steered clear of them climbing trees as kids. Yuck.

 

This morning I wanted to get some pictures, and I found THREE (count 'em) in the doorway between our kitchen and dining room. I took photos of two more outside on the steps. Someone rescue me!! I'm not safe anymo re!

 

 

This fuzzy is on the wall of our porch.

This one's actually on our front steps.

Nightnoises

I was coming home tonight from my parents' house, through a neighbour's yard, when I saw this picture:

 

I was trying to keep from tripping in the dark, so I wasn't really paying much attention. I saw this white thing to the right of the gate and thought it was just a bundle of cloth or a bag of grain or something someone had left on top of the fence.

 

I did a double-take when it clucked at me! I rushed home to get my camera and snap the shot. Here's a closer shot of my night-time friend:

Who ever said chickens can't fly? Lots of fun!

 

On another note entirely, David and I celebrated our second anniversary yesterday! We went out to eat while Mom and Dad watched Timothy, and we were back in plenty of time to put Timothy to bed and play Cities and Knights of Catan with my dad. And whaddya know--I won! I hardly ever win! It was a good day, and much less stressful than two years ago. :)

There and back again

We survived the trip to Lagos! And actually, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, or as I'd envisioned. We're so thankful for a safe trip and a relatively good time there!

 

The only trouble blogging-wise is that most of the time, I was so engrossed in keeping Timothy happy that I wasn't being as observant as I otherwise would have been. (This is one of the downsides of traveling without your spouse!) So I don't have any interesting anecdotes or observations! What a bummer!

 

The flight down was as pleasant as any flight I'd been on in the U.S. (and more so than some). But I had a head cold to begin with, and during the descent into Lagos, I had a serious sinus headache (like someone showing shards of broken glass into my forehead) and an earache. And poor Timothy was screaming non-stop until we landed (when he promptly fell asleep). But aside from that, we were fine.

 

David and our friend Nanfa met me at the airport, and it wasn't quite as hot as I'd expected. (Don't get me wrong: it was very warm and humid--uncomfortable but not oppressive.) I couldn't hear anything out of my right ear for another four hours, but oh well! Luckily, Nanfa's car had air conditioning, and I mean luckily because we had to drive about 2-1/2 hours to get to his place. It's all within Lagos, mind you. But Lagos is a BIG city, and the traffic is atrocious.

 

It turned out that Nanfa lives in a beautiful, luxurious, wealthy neighbourhood called Victoria Garden City. His own place is one bedroom and bathroom in a little cottage behind one of the main houses in this community, but he had air conditioning and running water, so I told him honestly that the accommodation was better than most places I'd stayed in Nigeria! Nanfa himself vacated to a friend's place, leaving David and me to the single little room (maybe 10'x8'). We slept on sleeping bags on the floor, since Nanfa doesn't own a bed (which is actually pretty common here) and felt like king and queen!! Nanfa took us to a nice chicken place for dinner, and we all enjoyed our meal. Timothy even got a balloon to play with while we ate.

 

On Thursday, while Nanfa was at work, David and I ventured out to a specific clinic to run one of our errands. Nanfa had suggested we take a taxi, but we knew it would cost 10 times the price of taking a bus, and I said it would be exciting to take the bus. Now, you must understand that "bus" does not mean one of those big transit buses they use in big cities like London and Chicago. It means a run-down van--mostly VW vans in Lagos, for some reason--squeezing four people onto each bench seat. I'd never been in one of these with Timothy before because I generally insist on his being in his carseat. But of course, I hadn't brought his carseat to Lagos, so we took the bus. And it was fine! The wind felt good. It was cloudy. David and I enjoyed trying to understand what the caller was saying as we drove by people standing on the side of the road waiting. (Buses here have callers that shout out the bus's destination so people standing on the roadside can opt in or out.) It was fun listening to the pidgin around us, and I realised I was picking up more than I would have if it were Hausa, but I still had to struggle to understand a lot.

 

We had a nice--and very expensive!--lunch of Nigerian cuisine next-door to the clinic, and we relaxed there for awhile. Their eating area is upstairs in a covered balcony, so the airflow was perfect. Then we went to the clinic, and while David did his thing, Timothy amused himself by climbing on the coffee tables, climbing up and down the three steps at reception, trying to get out the front door, grabbing and ripping the leaves of potted plants, pulling the window blinds, and attacking the water coole--thus getting us both soaked. I was exhausted just trying to keep him out of the next bit of trouble! After two hours, David was finished, Timothy had fallen asleep on my lap, and we decided to go back to Nanfa's by taxi. When we got back, Timothy slept for almost two hours, and then we visited the park in Nanfa's community. It's beautiful! There are lots of trees, a grassy area for football, a basketball court, a little playground, benches, and walking paths. We sat for awhile and let Timothy play in the dirt and leaves. (He hardly ever get sto play outside because we don't have a yard, and Grandma has plants in her yard that Timothy likes to shred.) Then we went for a walk a few times around the park and decided to go back to the chicken place for dinner.

 

We retired early Thursday night. For one thing, the heat and humidity had made us exhausted. For another thing, we were planning on getting up at 4am the next morning. It was a rough night. Both Timothy and I were sick. By 3:30 we were all awake and ready to get up. Nanfa picked us up at 5:20, and we loaded the car to run our last errand and head to the airport.

 

Even at 5:30 in the morning, the traffic was bad in some places on the road. Nanfa told us that many people have to leave before 5:00 to get to work on time, depending on where they live and where they work. (I heard once a story about a family that lived in Lagos. The daughter was about three years old. Her dad worked a busy job seven days a week, and he had to leave before 6 to get to work every morning. He never returned at night before 8 or 9. It was so bad that one day, he returned home mid-morning to retrieve something he'd forgotten for a big business meeting, and his daughter came running from the gate, telling her mom, "Mama, there's a strange man at the gate, and he wants to come in!" Now I believe this story!)

 

We ran our errand, which took about three hours, and then Nanfa came to get us and take us to a motor park where we could catch a taxi to the airport. We knew the flight to Jos would probably leave around noon, and we hoped to catch it so we wouldn't have to fly to Abuja and get a bus to Jos. We arrived at the airport on time, miraculously, and there we ran into my former employer Jonathan! He's a world traveler and knows the Lagos airport well, so he helped us get our tickets, check in, and find the waiting area. I was having conniptions because I was hot, damp, and tired; I had a cold and was sick; Timothy was screaming bloody murder because he was tired and I wouldn't let him play on the ground. (Hello! There were mobs of people going to and fro, like I was going to let him get swept away in the crowd?!) And David just disappeared for huge chunks of time, trying to get our flight sorted out. It was miserable. I hope I never have to go through it again. And then our flight was delayed two hours, so David and I took turns--grudgingly--in chasing after Timothy to keep him out of trouble. Oy!

 

We were extremely glad to get home, dropped off personally by Jonathan. I don't know what we would have done without him!

 

So all in all, our trip to Lagos was a success. We accomplished our main tasks, didn't lose too much sleep, enjoyed good accommodations and company, and didn't get lost, mugged, raped, murdered, molested, robbed, or even verbally abused! I'd say that's a success. :)

 

David will have to go back in a few weeks, hopefully only once, but I'm glad at least that Timothy and I can wait here at home. (The trip is very expensive!) So thanks for remembering us while we were gone!