Another trip to the VIO office

I was still in bed when David came to get me yesterday. Yes, it was about 10:20, but I was still in bed with a wretched cold. I was miserable--coughing, sniffling, head throbbing--but I dutifully climbed into the car and went with David to the VIO office. After all, they'd said to come again Friday to get my photo taken.

We had to park a "block" away from the building (there aren't really any such things as blocks here, but you can imagine the distance). The traders on the corner all called out to me as we passed, but I ignored them. My brain wasn't functioning well, as it was. We climbed the steps to the building that hosts the VIO office and internal revenue services. David had to practically drag me part of the way. When we arrived in the road safety office, where they would take my photo, they had me sit in a chair facing the camera. David's contact informed him that his license was ready to be picked up, so David went back to a different office. After he left, the VIO people asked me to move to a different chair; I was apparently sitting in the photo chair. So I moved over to a desk with two chairs, and sat beside a woman who had a stack of forms. I couldn't tell what she was doing exactly, but it seemed that she was copying information from the forms into a heavy ledger beside her. I didn't envy her. I put my head down on the desk and waited for instructions--or for David, whichever came first.

After twenty minutes, David arrived back. He showed me his license--which looks pretty spiffy, I have to admit--and was told they hadn't found my form yet. So David went over to a desk and was given a stack of forms to look through. After another five minutes or so, he came across my form and handed it to the officers. After they took a young man's photo, they asked me to sit back in the photo chair. Ten seconds later, they asked me to move again, without having taken my photo. Another man sat in the chair, was "snapped," and then they asked me to sit in the chair again.

The woman asked me to look in the camera, and she snapped me. I didn't know whether to smile or not; most formal photos here are absolutely-no-smile shots, so I tried to look pleasant without exactly smiling. Of course, I felt like I'd been run over by a truck, so how could I look pleasant, in truth? But I tried. I got up, signed my new signature on the electronic pad (I was really impressed by all the computer equipment at that desk!), pressed my right thumb against the electronic reader, and waited. She sighed and asked me to sit down again. It took two more tries before she got a decent photo of me because people kept walking across the room as she snapped the photo. Finally, she said I could go, and David and I left. We walked back to our car as it was starting to rain, and it rained until after 19:00. David's VIO contact called in the afternoon to say my license was ready for pick-up, but we said we'd collect it Monday.

So on Monday, I should have my Nigerian national driver's license!! (SHOULD...)

Lydia leaves

Baby Lydia, who's now 5 months old and came to live with my parents the day she was born, left today. Her adoptive parents are an ECWA couple who are moving from Zaria (a few hours' drive) to Jos. Her father works for People Oriented Development (POD), the part of ECWA that concentrates on rural development. Her mom is a scientist who works in developing leather products.

Mom and I took Lydia down to the ProLife office at the hospital around 2 o'clock this afternoon. After a few speeches and two short prayers, we handed Lydia over to her parents and said farewell. Mom's heartbroken--as you can imagine--but seems to be holding up well. It seems so strange to have an empty stroller, empty carseat, empty bouncy seat, etc. I will miss little Lydia, too. I'll miss feeding her, holding her, playing with her, singing to her, rocking her to sleep. She's been such a joy to have in the family--a real sweetheart who smiles all the time and has a generally bright disposition. And after five months, even David had become attached to her! We're hoping that since Lydia's new parents are moving to Jos, we'll be able to see her for visits occasionally.

On a lighter note, David and I took another trip to the VIO office this afternoon, on a phone call tip that said I'd be able to get my photo taken. The officers are no longer on strike. But the officer in charge said I could only get my photo snapped on Fridays. Aha. Right. So our fourth trip to the VIO office was entirely unproductive. And with petrol like gold these days (see later paragraph), it was a sad waste. But nothing here works as it's supposed to, so we're really not surprised.

On the way back from the office, we passed a motorcyclist wearing a helmet--the first I remember ever seeing in Jos. Granted, it was a yellow hard hat with a visor (that was, of course, raised). But it was a helmet! Later on, we passed two men on a motorcycle, with a black dog running behind them. I thought at first the dog was local and just following, but no, he was leashed to the passenger! As we passed, the motorcycle stopped. David and I figured the man had been carrying the dog, and the dog had either fallen or jumped out of his arms. But it sure made a funny sight!

Our petrol (gasoline) situation has been increasingly dire over the past week or so. I don't follow the news, so I don't know all the details, but there apparently is a strike among the oil workers down south, which means there is no fuel available at the filling stations. What fuel is available (elsewhere, mind you) is drastically increased in price, and even then it's almost impossible to get. *sigh* Life here is never boring!

Mama's Choice Chop

Guess what! I just had a brilliant idea. I'm starting a new blog for MOM, and it's going to be a recipe blog. Every few days or every week, we'll put up one of Mom's favourite (or our favourite of Mom's) recipes. I'd love suggestions for how to make the blog better. Check out the first recipe at http://chefblyth.blogspot.com (link now in my Links on sidebar). If you have recipe requests, especially, we'll cater to your comments. :)

On working retreat

As I walk along the path, a breeze dancing in the trees and tossing stray strands of my mousy hair, I can understand why people come here on retreat. The compound is surrounded on three sides by luscious green hills (that turn brown in the dry season). If you sit still, you can hear birds whistling in the trees, and even the flies buzzing around the mangoes rotting on the ground here and there. Now that it’s getting dark—the sky is predominantly mauve at the moment—I can also hear the bats shrieking, cicadas humming, and crickets chirping. What a cacophony! And yet the sounds are soothing, restful. I can hear no nearby church blasting out a worship service on their super duper sound system; no horns blaring; no trumpets or drums; not even an imam calling the faithful to prayer. Only the sounds of nature pour through my open window as I sit on the bed in my private little room.

I’ve been here 33 hours, and right now I feel supersaturated with scripture. I think if my mind tried to wrap itself around one more Bible verse, I’d just explode. Why? Because I’m here to work; that’s why. My work involves the Bible, and for that I am truly thankful. My supervisor/coworker Adena and I are out here in Miango to work. We’re developing a Sunday school curriculum for teenagers, and our primary goal on this retreat is to outline the 52 lessons for year one and find helpful resources for our writers. “Resources” includes not only the Bible—which we’re being very careful to use wisely and in context—but also perhaps two dozen books, from Josh McDowell’s Why Wait? about premarital sex all the way down the spectrum to Caution: Dangerous Devotions by Jackie Perseghetti. These books are fantastic. Okay, granted, I haven’t read any of them. But they look fantastic!

I clearly remember my teen years, seeing as they were pretty recent. I remember the struggles I faced and the hopelessness of having no answers. I remember being lonely, being laughed at, being depressed because no guys liked me (and because Sunipa always got higher scores than I did!). I can still feel that pain. So I’m hoping that gives me insight into structuring these lessons. Dude. Teens need help. That’s all there is to it. .

But tonight, having completed 42 of our 52 lesson sketches, I am indulging in a bit of relaxation. In fact, I’m not sure what to do with my time! I brought with me a book of science fiction short stories (thanks, Grampa!) I’ve dipped into (yes, I ended a clause with a preposition, so sue me!), and Harry Potter and the Chamber [dang blast these mosquitoes!] of Secrets. (I’m trying to read all six before my friend Christine brings me book seven at the end of July.) And I brought three movies—The Princess Bride, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I have a notebook and pens. I even have my husband’s (well, “our” since mine died) computer. (Did I mention he traveled to Ibadan in southern Nigeria for a medical conference? He’ll be back tomorrow night.) I’ve almost finished a story I’ve been writing on his (our) computer, so I could finish that, if I can figure out how. On the other hand, I’m hoping Heidi—whose family is spending a week here on vacation from Kano up north—will pop in and invite me to play Settlers of Catan. (Yes, I finally learned it and love it!) So who knows? I’m tired of working [why are there ants on my bedspread!] but am invigorated by having spent the whole day immersed in God’s word! Wow!

Well, I think this post is done. Time to rest my weary carpal-tunnel-ridden hands!

Future lodging

We payed two years rent on an apartment yesterday.

It's actually funny because the apartment isn't even finished yet. It has no floor, and the walls still need painting. And the bathrooms are a mess. But we saw the upstairs apartment that's completed, and we're confident ours will be just as nice. The place has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a spacious living room, dining room, and a kitchen. It's located about a 10-minute drive from Evangel, and a bit closer to JUTH. Theoretically, it will be completed in July, and we can move in in late August or in September. Next time we go check it out, I'll take some photos.

The big problem now is furniture. Having paid for rent, our budget's pretty small for furniture! And we have to start from scratch, only owning (2) bookcases, (2) dressers, a canvas wardrobe, and (4) dining room chairs! Haha. Oh well. Mom says in their first apartment, they put blankets on two footlockers, and that was their couch! We'll manage.

It's exciting to now have a place to which to move in September, even if it's not furnished! :)

Leaving the fold

There's a first time for everything; I'm convinced.

I attended mass for the first time yesterday.

Yep, a full 6 AM Roman Catholic mass with "Hail Mary" and all.

Shocked? (Probably not if you don't know me at all!)

I grew up Presbyterian, but that didn't mean much to me, honestly. I spent most of my years attending chapel at Hillcrest (our school), which was interdenominational. One week it'd be Baptist, the next Lutheran, and Pentecostal the week after that. So I got it all. And when I went to college, I had no expectations for a church. I only wanted music I could appreciate and sermons I could understand. I tried two Bible churches, two Assemblies of God churches (no kidding!), a Presbyterian church, a conservative Baptist church, an Anglican church (not Episcopal), and even a Mennonite church. I avoided the Lutherans (remembering the sourness of red wine from a visit we took when I was 7) and the Methodists (for no particular reason at all). I hated them all. (Will I go to hell for saying that?) They were all pretty awful.

Only when I was in my second year of college did I discover the other main Anglican congregation in town, Church of the Great Shepherd. I'd had lots of conversations with my close friend Anna about the other Anglican church, and I was adament against attending a liturgical church, where everything was just rote. But Great Shepherd wasn't like that at all. It was lively, and the Holy Spirit was so tangible there. The sermons were powerful and personal, and the music was the kind I loved and found most worshipful. I'd found my church! And to my horror, I found myself falling in love with the liturgy! God has a strange sense of humour. Three years later I joined the Anglican church (Anglican Mission in America). And although I had a great church in San Diego, I really missed Great Shepherd when I moved away. Still do.

So I decided to pluck up the courage and attend mass with David on Sunday morning. He was raised Catholic, and one of my best friends Will became Catholic (from Anglican), so I figured it would be a good experience. Catholic liturgy's better than no liturgy, right?

St. Louis College (and Parish) is right next-door to us, but it takes about twenty minutes to walk there. There was a crowd headed that way, and when we arrived right at 6:02 or so, the church was already packed. I didn't make the sign of the cross with holy water at the entrance. I didn't say the "Hail Mary" after the Prayers of the People. I didn't partake of the Eucharist. and I didn't kneel on the prayer rail. Oh, and I took note of the crucifix at the church front. But aside from that, I felt right at home. It was exhilarating!

But no, I'm not going to become a Roman Catholic. And no, I'm not even going to attend mass regularly. Next week we're going to try and attend St. Piran's, the big Anglican church in town, and I think that will be a better fit. But now at least I've tried mass and can say it was a positive experience! And I wouldn't mind going again someday. But please don't send me a rosary!

image from flickr.com, http://www.flickr.com/photos/acermate433s/197497990/

Morning in the madhouse

I thought we were going to the VIO office again. But when we arrived there, an employee sitting by his car informed us that the state government workers were on strike. Again? They were just on strike last month! The man asked what we needed and proceeded to offer us his unofficial services for a very handsome fee. Ha! Yeah right. We started to leave, and he told us the Road Safety people—who were supposed to issue our driver’s licenses—would be in after ten.

And that’s how I found myself here, in the recreation room of the JUTH psychiatric ward. At one end of the small room is a table surrounded on one side by men and women in white. Remember the joke, the men in white are coming to take you away? David is with them. It looks like a panel of judges at a court-martial. On the close side of the table are a half dozen men and women in various clothing styles. Patients, I suppose. Facing the table are five slatted steel benches, with another three lining the walls on either side. I sit on a bench near the door. The slats are about three inches apart, and my bottom is already sore. There are bars in a diamond pattern on the windows, most of which are missing their glass louvers. Two of the room’s three ceiling fans are spinning, and the room is actually deliciously cool, without any direct sunlight drifting in. There are four fluorescent light fixtures overhead, but no bulbs. Must be pretty dark at night. They must not recreate after nightfall. The room is painted a steely green, almost grey. It could use touching up. There’s a poster on the left wall. I can’t make out the pictures, but the large text reads, “Who is Normal?”

David has told me that they are finishing up rounds. But, I pointed out, you’re staying in one room. You’re not going round. He laughed. I’m not paying much attention, and after 20 minutes, they’re finished. A resident comes over to me with David, who introduces him, and together we go to the call room. It’s locked, so the resident opens the door for us. Inside are seven chairs, four desks, and a bed. There’s a working fan overhead, and a carpet on the floor. It’s cool inside, and quiet. The room is actually quite nice, painted a creamy yellow with gold and cream curtains in the windows and doorway. David and the other resident leave. I’m alone in the psychiatric ward. Great.

The clock on the wall above the bed tells me that it’s 6:52, but it’s lying. It hasn’t moved in the 20 minutes I’ve now been sitting here. The other resident has returned, and we talk about Chicago, the U.S., Nigerian corruption… He’s been invited by a couple from Michigan to spend two weeks with them in the States, and now he has to face the visa process. Good luck. I tell him if he gets a visa appointment he should tell us how on earth it can be done.

David returns, and it’s 9:45, so we get up to leave. The resident tells me his name is Nantok, and it’s been a pleasure. David and I head to the car and drive back to the VIO office. The Road Safety people are around, but because the others are on strike, they can’t run the generator. (And of course there’s no power without it.) All the gates are locked. David talks through the fence to an officer he knows. I come back to the car and wait. A man comes to my open window and holds up four large ducks. I laugh. “Agwagwa,” I say, the Hausa word for duck (one of the only animals I know). I’ve never seen a duck so close-up before, and they’re actually rather cute. “A’a,” I tell the man, “na gode.” (No, thank you.) I laugh and wave, and he leaves me alone. David returns to the car, and we return home. I relax in an armchair in our living room with a glass of cold (albeit boiled) water and enjoy the ceiling fan.

And then it’s back to work!

LATER--The officer David talked to called us later to say we should come in to see him. On our way, though, we were stopped twice by a mob of people running in the opposite direction, yelling, "Robbers!" This was followed by gunshots. Apparently, a gang was robbing a nearby bank. So we high-tailed it out of there! I guess our paperwork at the VIO office will have to wait until Monday!

Pondering the unknown

David has submitted a formal letter of resignation to our hospital.

It’s been a long time in coming, but it’s still overwhelming. We’ve talked about it for so long, but I never knew if it was really going to happen or not. A lot has been going on at the hospital with administration, and David’s eager to get away to a different job. He’s taken a position at the Jos University Teaching Hospital (JUTH), which is a huge hospital about a ten-minute drive from here. He’ll be better paid for the work he does, and there will be less pressure on him from the management. (That part is complicated!)

The difficult part is that we’ll be leaving the Evangel compound. This community has been my home since 1991, and now we’ll be making a new home. We’re still looking for a place to live, since JUTH doesn’t provide housing for its residents as Evangel does. We’ve looked at a house and a flat so far, but both are a good half-hour drive from this part of town. It would be a hard commute for David, plus I’d feel pretty stranded out there, so far from “home.” I hope we can find something nice that’s a little more central. “Nice” is relative, though. Wherever we move, we’ll have to buy furniture and get cabinets and counters installed in the kitchen. Plus the power situation anywhere is going to be bad, not to mention water…It’ll be challenging, but I’m sure we’ll find something. We’ll be moving in late August, most likely, as David starts work at JUTH in September, so we still have some time to find a place.

I’m nervous and excited, terrified and thrilled. It’ll definitely be an adventure to move away, but I will sorely miss being so close to my parents. *sigh* Life goes on. It’s time to grow up, I guess. And no one ever said growing up was easy.

Written some great blogs but can't post them...technical problems? Will resume soon.

testing testing one two

Immigration update

I realised a few days ago that I never posted an update on my passport/visa stuff!

The first exciting thing was to get my new passport. Woohoo! The picture's the best I think I've ever had. Yay! And it lasts ten years, so I'm all set with my electronic passport. (The next ordeal will be getting Baby "Kes" a passport early next year... I've heard it can be nightmarish.)

The next exciting thing was to get an indefinite re-entry visa in my new passport, which means that as long as my passport is valid (i.e., until April 2017), I can leave and re-enter Nigeria as many times as I darn well please. Cool! No more tromping to the Nigerian embassy in DC. (And yes, I did "tromp," thank you very much.)

So I'm really and officially legal now! What a relief! No more worries about being dragged out of the country and deported. Phew.

Expecting Marc

Marc’s arriving tomorrow! I haven’t seen him in over two years!

I got to know Marc when I was in eighth grade and he in sixth. His family was/is in my mission, and he’d come over sometimes to play computer games (mostly Myst) with my older brother Jonathan. Sometimes they got together with some other guys and played Diplomacy at Marc’s house. So when Marc started middle school, I decided to keep an eye on him, make sure he was okay (being such a person of rank myself). And somehow over that first semester of eighth grade (fall ’95), Marc and I became fast friends. I wasn’t in his social circle, I guess you might say, but we were friends anyway. I, being the youngest in my family, asked him to be my little brother. He, being the second of three boys in his family, agreed that I could be his big sister. And that was that.

Oh, sure, things have changed over the years as we’ve grown up. We’re hardly that much apart in age, and so now we’re more like friends than siblings. And we don’t write often, hardly ever call…But Marc’s still my little brother in my heart. This year he’s coming out to teach math at our school in town, and I’m so glad! I’m pretty sure he and David will really click, and we’re both eager to learn Chess from a master. So, have a safe trip, Marc, and we’ll see you in a day or two!

The man in the boot

Okay, so we went to a wedding today... or at least, sort of. That is to say, we (Mom, baby Lydia, David, and I) drove to the site of the reception, discovered a huge crowd and nowhere to even sit down, and left again after about a half hour. We got to see the beautiful bride and a few other friends, and we each got a green ribbon pinned onto our shirts.

But that wasn't the exciting part. Oh no.

We were on our way home, just about to cross those awful railroad tracks I mentioned in my last post, when the traffic came to a stop. This isn't too unusual since that part of the road is so terrible, so I didn't think much at first. But then I noticed the car passing me going the other direction. It was full of men yelling and pointing to our right, where a road branches off from the main road. Startled at all the yelling, I just wanted to get out of there. I heard others yelling outside the car--pedestrians, motorcyclists, and people in other cars--and I was afraid of a riot. As the car passed, though, I thought I saw a hand waving from the boot (trunk) of the car!! I shook my head and tried to concentrate on the potholes; I must have imagined it. The motorcycle in front of me had stopped altogether, blocking the road, so I honked and honked until he turned back around and crossed the tracks ahead of me. I maneuvered around the tracks and pothole and gunned the engine. Just then, we heard gunshots ringing out behind us.

"Let's get out of here!" I cried to my passengers, and we sped away. David yelled, "They're robbers! That's what was going on!" And as he told Mom and me what he'd seen from the front passenger seat, we pieced together the story.

The car of shouting men had probably been involved in an armed robbery and had kidnapped somebody. That was the person whose hand David and I saw waving from the open boot. They were speeding away from the crowd, but people could see the hand waving and were trying to block the car's escape. But once a gunshot was fired, everyone ran for cover, and we assume the car got away.

Wow!! I explained to David and Mom that my first instinct when I hear yelling is to RUN AWAY! I don't want to get caught in any sort of riots or demonstrations that involve angry people. So I guess we'll never know what exactly happened, but we'll sure never forget the day we went to Talitha's wedding and saw a hand sticking out of the boot!