Safest Place

Over the past couple of months I've pondered about the issue of safety. Now, those who know me know that I tend to sideline this factor in the things I choose to do (see "Breaks and Boons" post picture). Much to my mother's dismay, safety isn't held in very high value for me. However, living in Nigeria has challenged my stubbornness and I've begun to be a bit more cautious. Whether I like it or not, I have to be more prudent in how I live daily life here. All this has given way to questions in my mind-how God thinks about safety? What's been ingrained in me growing up is that God protects, shelters, and guards us from danger because He wants us to live safe lives. But the more I get to know this Lord of mine, the more blasphemous that sounds. A quick survey of the lives of those who've followed that radical Nazarene indicates that things don't end with a white picket fence and peaceful death while sleeping. On the contrary, for those first followers their days were marked by prison, danger, lashings, ship-wrecks, danger, ostracizing, beheading, danger, crucifixion, hunger, and oh, danger. Hmm...we really don't talk about this very much in our churches. We toss out the warning that people might not like us for what we believe, but to that we should just pray for the "lost souls" of those who mock us. How often do we do all we can to avoid anything uncomfortable? I recently devoured this book by Erwin McManus, The Barbarian Way and found some refreshing words I'd like to share.
"Jesus understood that His purpose was to save us not from pain and suffering, but from meaninglessness."

Erwin goes on to talk about the cliché, "The safest place to be is in the center of God's will." The saying has it's origins with Corrie ten Boom and her sister, Betsie, who were captives in Nazi concentration camps. This is the context in which the "safety of God's will" was being fleshed out and I must say, I think we've strayed quite a distance from the original meaning. Here's what Erwin says,:

"Clearly neither of them concluded that this expression conveyed a belief that God would keep them from suffering hardship and even death. Betsie’s statement was a declaration that to walk in the character of Christ is always the right choice, regardless of outcome or consequence. We have somehow perverted this more primal understanding to a far more civilized one. Instead of finding confidence to live as we should regardless of our circumstances, we have used it as justification to choose the path of least resistance, least difficulty, least sacrifice. Instead of concluding it is best to be wherever God wants us to be, we have decided that wherever it is best for us to be is where God wants us. Actually, God’s will for us is less about our comfort that it is about our contribution. God would never choose for us safety at the cost of significance. God created you so that your life would count, not so that you could count the days of your life.”

Though there's a part of me that wishes my God was one that would never let anything bad happen to me, never let armed robbers in, never let corrupt people get to leadership positions, never let my heart be wrung, a deeper part is relieved to know that my God has a more eternal perspective than that. Significance and contribution to the Kingdom of Light win out over safety and comfort.

Mama, kada ki damuwa = Mom, don't you worry :)

Good cheer

"Gloria" and I

At this particular juncture, my time is a bit limited, as is my power supply (NEPA is off, big surprise), so I just want to share a few pictures of the past week's festivitites leading to the holiday. I imagine that this time of year has you quite busy as well so you're checking my blog i between batches of sugar cookies, so hopefully the brevity isn't scorned. Unless of course you're bored out of your mind and you're hoping I'll have some tantilizing story to entertain you. Uh...sorry about that;) Little drummer boy/René

These pictures of nigerian's are all from this Christmas celebration for one of the SIM ministries here in Jos. These kids were kicked out of their homes for one reason or another and live in this village community called Gyaro under the guidance and structure of SIM City Ministries. At the celebration, each "family group" presented a song, memory verses, and/or a little drama. I wish I could share a video but blogger isn't cooperating with me. You're just going to have to trust me that the afternoon was priceless. The girl's group presenting their memory verse from Luke 2.

And what holiday season would be complete without a little caroling? Some of us singing, smiling, singles went out to various houses on compounds and then the hospital in an attempt to bring tidings of great joy to many people. It was a blast and well-received just about everywhere we went. "Felize Navidad" didn't go over quite like we hoped :)

Here's our crew at the hospital with your's truly dressed up as Father Christmas. Can you believe that some kids DIDN'T buy that I was Santa Clause?! They pulled on my beard and said, "That's not real!" Most broke out into a huge smile at the sight of me, especially when I started Ho-ho-hoing.

Thursday was actually Salah, a Muslim holiday so some of us took off to go play and conquer this area. It's called _[some african sounding name]_ Tribal Rocks. Lots of fun, sun, and battlewounds were had.

As they say in Nigeria: HAPPY (not merry) CHRISTMAS!!

SO, not under the radar

You know how when you arrive to a function already in full swing you just try to slip in under the radar? Ever tried doing that when you're the only white person within at least a 30 mile radius? Right. So this past weekend, I traveled to the delightful little ginger farming village of Kurmin Musa for a youth conference. Go ahead and scratch out all visions of cushy hotels, conference rooms, stickers, and catered lunches. You can hang onto the picture of oodles of people, because over 2,000 Nigerians were gathered there in Kurmin Musa. OK, so I show up with my colleagues, Shammah and Joseph, and the outdoor conference in the middle of a field, is well underway. We weren't expected to present until the evening, so I'm thinking we'll just slide in the back,under the make-shift thatched shade somewhere, wait till a break, and then locate our contacts. Oh no, there would be none of that. Despite my attempt to blend in with Nigerian atire, I stood out like a polar bear on blacktop. Pretty soon we were being ushered to the seats of honor in the center of the U-shaped area, right behind the podium...while the speaker was still

talking (all in Hausa). About 5 mins after we sit down, I start to get the notion that we're going to be introduced. Sure enough, the emcee gives the mic to Shammah and he starts talking (all in Hausa) and then asks me to stand up. Shammah says a few more things (in Hausa) and then hands the mic to me saying, "Go ahead. Greet them in Hausa and then sing a song." !! What else could I do? There I was, singing...to 2,000 people...in Hausa...with body movements. As soon as we sat back down, I said, to Shammah, "Remind me to give you a bulala (beating) later." However, later on that evening, the fun only continued when we gave our presentation about camp and I found myself dancing by myself in front of this crowd. If there's one thing I know about winning the favor of Nigerians, I know you can't go wrong with some good dance moves. From the cheers and squeals of the masses, I think I did alright. Even more importantly, the youth seemed really excited about signing up for the camp we will host there in Kurmin Musa the 2nd week in January. Something else I found fascinating this weekend was the process of taking up an offering. First of all, they must have collected money at least 5 times just in the 24 hours I was there. You learn to carry small bills so you don't look like a schmuck for not giving anything. OK, so anytime an offering is being taken, the band (or just drummers) go to town and pound out a sweet beat that makes people want to dance. And dance they do, making their way to the bowl, basket, or bag up in front. Usually in churches, people are dancing down the aisles, dropping their money in, and dancing back to their seats. After all, God loves a cheerful giver! We're so used to having solemn music playing while the pretty trays shift down the rows, no wonder people don't look forward to the offering. Well, at this conference, when certain offerings were taken, people didn't just bring money, they brought sacks of grains and huge green bars of soap (see picture). Here, churches need these items for various functions, speakers, and pastors. Can you imagine doing this next Sunday in your church? Try dropping a bar of Ivory soap or a box of cereal in the plate next time. At least you're not dragging in a goat.

Singing, dancing, giving for the kingdom...always detected by the King's radar.

Mun yi ma Yesu waka da raira = "We sang and danced for Jesus"

At a moment's notice

And this is what missionaries sometimes feel like...

ok, so perhaps a couple of us had too much fun with the ol' photo booth program. Some pictures just have to be shared.

I suppose I should use this opportunity to share a little story. A common adage around here is that in Nigeria, you need to be ready to preach, pray or die at a moment's notice. Just the other day...

**We were throwing a little program for all of our camp staff from Jos, intending to feed them, entertain, encourage, and then challenge them towards discipleship. And preferably, that would have been the order. BUT, since nothing goes according to plan here, one of my colleagues and I were an hour late to the shindig due to extended cooking time. I tried not to show it, but I was kind of freaking out because I was supposed to be orchestrating this thing. Anyways, we get there and the 3rd member of our office team, Shammah, is up, preaching away. I rush in and just break into a huge smile, watching the impromtu-ness of Nigeria at it's best. And you know what, it was a fantasic message. I certainly couldn't have done that!

**Opportunities to pray are PLENTIFUL. Ok, so I guess they are plentiful no matter where you live, but as a friend of mine said, "Out here, everything God says seems to have an exclamation point on the end." For instance, in the states, we pray for safe travels, 'journey mercies', etc. But here, it's not just something nice to throw in a prayer. We are ALWAYS praying for people as they travel with great sincerity. So many factors that can make a pleasant 2 hour drive to a village turn into a living nightmare. Tire-busting potholes covering 80% of the road, huge trucks with no regulations on the load their carrying, cars passing on both sides while oncoming traffic isn't budging, and then...we have the various traffic stops where "officers" set up road blocks so they can "inspect vehicles." Anyways, all this is to say, that the nature of life here demands constant prayer. Which leads me to the final thing...

**When someone dies here, quite often, family and friends won't REALLY know the cause. A typical story will be told like this: Man had an injured leg, so he went to the hospital and died. That will honestly be all the details you get from the family, not because they are witholding stuff from you, but because that's all they know! Strangely, I find the acceptance of death refreshing because our western culture likes to believe that one's invincible...and that promotes such a false sense of hope. Don't worry, I'm not eager to die, but the fact is, at a moment's notice it could happen and I better be ready.

Ku yi mani addu'a = pray for me

Breaks and 'Boons

Have you ever begun a letter, email, or, let’s say, blog, half a dozen times and can’t seem to finish it? Welcome to my life. There’s seem to be big fat road barrier keeping me from posting a blog. Tonight, however, I’ve committed not to go to bed until I can post something. Thing is…I’ve been having a hard time deciding what to write about. So I’m going to go with what I have the coolest pictures of first. Worth a thousand words…even those I should have writted a week ago? Good.

Right-o. So over a week ago, I officially finished my Hausa language training! **the crowd goes wild** To celebrate, our class decided to take a trip to Yankari Game Reserve for a little safari and time in the natural warm springs. The safari was decent (of note we saw lions, crocs, and bush bucks), but didn’t change my life. Way more exciting were the baboons and warthogs roaming around the premises terrorizing patrons. (pictured is one trying to intimidate George into turning over his cookie. Didn't work) I’m serious, the ‘boons opened our sliding windows to our rooms and came in, looking for food. The guys that were with us came back from swimming to find 8 baboons in their room, lounging around, having polished off all the food they had. They may look cute, but they were pretty vicous. Of couse, that’s what made it exciting. The warm springs (constant 31 C) also made the trip worth it. Check out the pictures…absolutely beautiful.

I returned from the trip refreshed and ready to dive back into full time camp ministry. It’s been difficult the past few weeks trying to do intensive language study as well as remaining involved with the daily ministry needs. Now, I’m focused and excited about writing materials for next years camp, raising awareness, and connecting with former and future camp staff. Time to jump out and get my feet wet!

Here's another classic René-favorite, leaping from something ridiculous into water. The 3 pictures before this one were of me standing on top, pondering whether the potential gain outweighed the potential loss...rational thinking gave way to my physics estimates and well, you can see what happend.

Word for the day: Na gama!
= I finished!

Kashe bera

So many fun things have been happening, I haven't been able to chain myself to the computer long enough to post a blog. Also, my computer is currently still in the states, awaiting transport back to my bosom. I've been snagging other people's laptops shamelessly for about 2 months now. Since I moved a bit, I've also had to steal (or ask in a really guilt-instilling kind of way) the use of other's internet. Furthermore, the mooching had reached it's climax in my moving in with this awesome couple, Jocelyn and Mark (pictured) Redekops. Because of the whole incident that happened over a month ago, the general concensus was that I should live with some people for a little while. This has been way better than I would have imagined because the Redekops are amazing and we really clicked...yes, I'm giving myself a compliment indirectly. At any rate, one of the joys of living in another home is the novelity and constant discoveries that are made. Lucky me, I got to be around when this little guy(pictured) was discovered! Jocelyn and I returned from Hausa class and a neighbor of ours came to tell us that we had a visitor. Mark informs us that Rogers, a Nigerian who works on the compound, killed a rat. Well, lunch was going to have to wait because I wanted to see this sucker. Since we are buddying Hausa language scholars, Jocelyn and I attempted to ask, "Where is the rat that you killed?" = "Rogers, ina bera da ka kashe?" but didn't pronouce it right and said, "Rogers, ina bera da ka kashi?" which means, where is the rat that you pooped. Mental image? Beautiful. We continued to get giggles out of that one for the next couple of days. At any rate, Rogers was leary about showing us because he was afraid we'd want to keep it and eat it...and he was hoping to have some nice "bush" meat for dinner. Jocelyn reassured him that anytime he killed something in their yard, he was welcomed to take it home. Rogers responded with a huge grin.

Speaking of grinning...my dear friend and partner in crime, Shannon (pictured here in front of Miango Falls), has headed back to the states. Ok, so I'm not grinning because she's gone, in fact it's been a bit sad, but the time we had together was full of grins...and giggles. I'm continually amazed at how quickly relationships are formed out here. Part our of necessity, but also in part because if you've made it out here to Jos, Nigeria to serve the Lord in some capacity, they're something that runs through your blood that'll unite you with others. And especially as single white females attempting to be about God's business here, we have an extra special bond. Shannon and I hangled many a street vendor, caught taxis, investigated sketchy churches, and basked in the beauty of Nigerian culture. She is just one (but a very snazzy one at that ;) )example of how God has answered my prayer for fellowship and sisterhood out here.

In other answers to prayer... Hausa class will be wrapping up this week and so from now on all my entries will be in Hausa. Wait...maybe that would only be cool for like, 1 sentence...ok, I'll keep it in English for your sake, but just know that I COULD do it all in Hausa.

AND, I must say, "Na gode domin kin hakori" = thank you for your patience. I haven't been as avid of a blogger lately...but the tides are turning my friends. Hope you have your life vest on!

My anchor holds

It's been quite a while since I made a post but with all the stuff that's gone down lately, I think I'm going to use my one "pass" to avoid the criticism of my readers. As ridiculous as it may sound, I have felt guilt because there has been so much going on and with each passing day, I know I'm failing to keep y'all updated. Well, this post isn't so much to chronicle the past couple of weeks with all events, but to share some words that have spoken to my heart.

"My heart was embittered and I was pierced within...
nevertheless, I am continually with You;
You have taken hold of my right hand
with your counsel You will guide me,
and afterward receive me to glory...
My heart and my flesh may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever...
But as for me, the nearness of God is my good;
I have made the Lord GOd my refuge,
that I may tell of all your works."
--Psalm 73: 21-28

When darkness tries to hide His face
I trust in His unchanging grace
In every high and stormy gail
my anchor holds within the veil
His oath, His covenant, His blood
support me in the whelming flood.
When .all around my soul gives way
He then is all my hope and stay
--Hymn "On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand"

For all who have been praying for me and my friends, thank you. KNOW that God is answering. He's healing. He's comforting. He's restoring. He's strengthening. He's bringing morning sun after the night. Please join me in continuing to pursue and fight for light to dispel darkness.


" Biki zai zo da safe"
= "celebration will come in the morning"

Ch-ch-ch-church time!

(Corinne-Swiss buddy who arrived on the same flight, Kauna-gracious mentor about culture and shopping, and Shannon-fellow US of A native who is sadly only here for 3 more weeks...I love these women!)

A post about church experiences has been in order for a while. Today was the first time since I arrived that I haven't been to a new church. I wanted to get a taste of various congregations before I settled on one. The thing is...when you're a visitor at a church here in Nigeria, it's not just a matter of being asked to fill out a visitor card or something. No, no. I've had to stand up, get sang to, introduce myself and why I'm here in Jos, be asked to come down front so the entire church could come shake my hand, and pretty much be welcomed in ways that would scare the majority of first-time church visitors in the states to death. Over all, I really dig church here.

Right now, I'm shamelessly going to allow a dear partner in crime over here, Shannon, to tell the story of our church experience last week. It took me several days to sit down and journal about it and since Shannon described it so well, why make a futile attempt to do better?

"Another really bizarre experience I had this week was attending an African Pentecostal church, which was called, ahem, Church of God Mission International Inc. Solution House. The name "Solution House" gives you an idea of what kind of church it was, the whole sermon was a litany of prosperity theology, the preacher loudly proclaiming that if you can just earn "divine approval" you will achieve "open heaven" and you won't have to pursue miracles, your miracles will pursue you! Amen, hallelujah, praise the Lord. Basically, the gist of it was that if you can just situate yourself properly with God, he will give you anything you want, whether it's a promotion, a good marriage, a child, a new car, a boat, a cell phone network that actually works, whatever it is, God is all about giving it to you. But the fundamental problem with that kind of message is that no anointing is going to force God's hand into giving us what we want. The whole point of Christianity, from my perspective is "Thy will be done," not "MY will be done." But part of the reason that the Pentecostal church is one of the fastest growing denominations in the Southern church is because many of them preach exactly that.

But even if the sermon wasn't problematic enough, I was also disturbed by the degree of control that the preacher had over the congregation. The volume and demonstrativeness of their response was basically directly proportioned to his shouting and vehemence on the stage. After the sermon he actually had us all standing with our hands folded on top of our heads and our mouths open! I'm sure if he asked everyone in the church to stand on their heads they all would have been bottom up in a blink. He actually said if you don't do it exactly the way the "man of God" tells you, you will not get "the result." But it was by these bizarre poses that he was trying to spread his anointing to as many in the church as possible. Not satisfied with the number that were slain in the Spirit on their own, he actually went through the church knocking people over himself. Then, to ice this cake, he actually had every one who had been brought to the altar stand to their feet and a little clump while all the ushers stood around them like a human barricade. Then he waved his suit jacket over them and made a popping noise into his microphone and every last one of them went down. But just when I really thought that I had fallen completely off the map of sense and comprehension, he told us that he was trying to raise money for a plane ticket and if those in the congregation would come to the front and give him money, they could step in the anointing oil that he had poured on the floor and he would pray for them to receive the same anointing that he had. I am telling you, I have never before witnessed the kinds of things that I saw at that church. Which, for me, begs the question, how many more are there even just in this city that are just like it? I really honestly shudder to think. "

More on other church times later...stay tuned!

Word of the day: koyi = learn

worth 1,001 words

With all due respect to the inventors of our languages, I find them lacking every evening when I come home from a day of smells, sounds, sights, and feelings. I've not only neglected this blog all week, but also my personal journal because it's so taxing to put words what Nigeria is putting into my heart every day. Take the above picture, for example. These kids are watching a Christian wrestling show by a team here for 2 weeks from Texas. Some other time I might talk about this "wrassling-gospel" ministry, but what I want you to notice is how entranced these kids are with the (not shown) very large batures in spandex pounding on the wrestling ring. If this was a video, you'd see the kids shrink back from the rope when the "bad guy" came out of the ring and ran toward the crowd. Note also the little girl with the plate on her head, selling the last few bags of groundnuts for the day. She watched entire show without taking the plate off. I wasn't all that mesmerized by the dudes jumping on each other, but my heart was enriched from observing the precious reactions of these kids.

Now this guy... tell me he doesn't give you warm fuzzies all over. Not much needs to be said here, just a cool freakin' bug in Africa. Also, I'm glad I found him outside and not in my shoe or on my toilet seat.

Something else that words just don't do justice to is my cooking. Stop that laughing! Look, cooking in Africa is TOTALLY different, so just because you've eaten my creations in the states has no bearing on your right to chuckle at the idea of my cooking here. **sigh** In all seriousness, even the simple things, like rice, take extra work here. Not to be one to shy away from a challenge, I've busted out the mixing bowl a few times. It's actually a goal of mine to learn some culinary skills over here. With no shame I admit that I've made my first carrot cake, icing, batch of coleslaw, yogurt (now a weekly afare), and a couple stellar variations of banana bread. I've also cook and cut up my first whole chicken, but have yet to kill and pluck one. AND, today I learned to make the classic Nigerian dish, jollof rice, thanks to my friend, Myriam (see picture). Basically, it's minced meat (=ground beef), oil, onions, peppers, carrots, green beans, cabbage, tomato paste, curry, garlic, salt, and peppe. Myriam then got excited about my other spices and decided that they could all go in. I'm pretty pumped about having leftovers for next week. I have had a number of blunders, but I'm willing to wager that Betty Crocker didn't bake the perfect cake her first time. Maybe soon my cooking/baking will leave partakers speechless...in a good way.

And of course, the quintessential sunset that so often beckons us to silence. Selah.

Phrase of the week: Ban sani ba =
"I don't know"

Yep, you know I say this one a lot:)

Not too near, but not far away...

I make this post with a little bit of trepidation because I don't want anyone to freak out and start contacting Amnesty International or something. This is just a piece of Nigerian news that I found notable and I want to share it with you. Remember, Nigeria is a BIG country with millions of people. That said...
In case you didn't know, we are currently in the Islamic month of Ramadan where Muslims take 30 days to fast and seek enlightenment from God. It's a holy month and with Nigeria being 50% Muslim, I'm well aware of it. Every Friday night I can hear the call to prayer from the loudspeakers at the mosque. As one can imagine, in a country divided staunchly between Muslim and Christian, a time like Ramadan has the tendency to tense things up a bit. Such might be part of the reason for the incident in Tudun Wada near Kano (up north) last weekend, but then again, religious differences have long been an issue here in Nigeria.

Allegedly, a cartoon was found with Mohommad's head on a dog's body and it was though to have been drawn by a Christian student in one of the schools (Later, after some investigation, it was discovered to have been done by a Muslim boy in Bangledesh). This set off a riotous group of teenagers who went around rampaging shops and known Christian homes. The fairly small group turned into a much larger mob once word spread and by the end of it all, churches (nearly all in the area) were burned to the ground, 9 people killed, and over 130 Christian homes were looted while families were driven out without any belongings in hand. In an attempt to "protect" went around to Christian homes, asked where they would like to go, and helped to ship them out to other towns. In reality, this served the Muslim ideal because they'd rather have it segregated anyways.
Article about the incident.

Now, you may be wondering why I am waiting over a week to write about this to you. I heard about this by word of mouth and kept looking for something in the papers about it. This article I refer you to is some of the only coverage of this terrible travesty. Can you imagine something like this happening in the states and not hearing about it? But censorship prevented any newspaper from publishing on it, partly out of fear that it would only fuel reactionary violence. One can understand that, I certainly heard a few Nigerians voice their strong opinions about what actions should be taken, but the lack of coverage also help to cover-up the grave injustice that took place. Not just the looting, the "help" provided by the authorities.

Other conversations and mentions of it during prayers, the incident last weekend in Tudun Wada has not had any affect on life in Jos, as far as I can tell. I don't fear for my safety when I walk past a Muslim kneeling on his prayer mat, and neither should you. I share this news with you just to help you understand an underlying issue in Nigeria and ask you to pray for profound peace and for Christ's love, light and truth to be stronger than the hate, darkness, and lies that reside in the human heart.

Hausa word for the day: Semi = love

http://allafrica.com/stories/200710011288.html

Fields of Gold

I realize that Sting was actually talking about fields golden with wheat in his song, but the golden fields here in Africa are worth singing about too. These yellow flowers have blanketed the mountain sides and meadows here in Jos for the past couple of weeks. It's absolutely beautiful and I wish I could tell you what they're called but I'm a far cry from a botanist and everyone I ask calls them "the end of rainy season flowers." I'll give you one guess what time of year they bloom :) Yes, yes, these droplets of sunshine pop out along with some orange buds during the last few weeks of sporadic rain. It's as if they are the giving everyone a final burst of color before dry season sets in and everything turns brown for the next 6 months. When I say dry season, I'm not just talking about having dry skin and no rain. There is this amazing phenomenon where the winds start blowing more from the north, bringing with it dust and sand from the Sahara. I remember flying over the Sahara a few weeks ago thinking how incredibly huge it was. Well, the vastness is not without consequence. I'm told a haze settles and the views of the mountains I currently enjoy just outside my gate will be hardly visible. Oh, and there's a name for this wonder of nature: harmattan. Sounds like some monster from the Odyssey if you ask me. Then again, considering the increase in dusting I'm going to have to do, the harmattan is a bit of a monster. Word is, mere hours after dusting you can have a layer of reddish/brownish dust on your furniture. That does NOT motivate me to even attempt. You know what other havoc the harmattan can wreak...boogers. Enough said.
But for now, I'll just savor God's beauty in my fields of gold. Ahhh...

Happy Independence Weekend!

This weekend I really connected with this country for Nigeria celebrated 47 years of independence from British colonial rule. Together, Americans and Nigerians raised up our voices saying, "No taxation without representation!" Ok, so maybe that's not exactly what my local friends were saying...I don't even think there is a tax here...but regardless, I rejoiced for Nigeria's Independence Day, October 1. To celebrate, I took some fun little adventure trips. I didn't want to overload my blog with pictures, so please check out my photo album for more.

Shere Hills

Water packed, sun shining, trekking shoes on, and a crew of us set off to spend some time up in Shere Hills, about 1/2 and hour outside of Jos. It's really amazing how quickly we can go from conjested street city to beautiful, lush, mountainous terrain. I'm a big fan. Of course I had no clue where we were going but we had a few people with us that have lived here for 20+ years and they guided us way out to park in this random village. One guy fluent in Hausa asked some boys to watch our vehicles and off we went. Now, these "trails" aren't exactly well marked; it requires a bit of guesswork, but I couldn't have cared less, it SO beautiful. These pictures really don't do justice, of course, but maybe they'll persuade you to come check it out someday. We trekked up this one overlook and then went down into a valley in search of a waterfall. Once we found it some people parked it at the bottom to have a snack but I followed the lead of this wonderful lady, Beaj, and climbed up the sucker to the top. (Mom wouldn't have been too thrilled EXCEPT, her and Beaj grew up together in Liberia! Small world, huh?) Anyways, I stood there looking out over this awesome terrain of fields and rock outcroppings and praised God for the beauty of his creation here in Africa. As they say in Hausa, Kai!

Jos Wildlife Park

Now, don't get TOO excited because this was a "wildlife park" not a "wildlife game reserve." Big difference. Parks have fences and cages around their animals, game reserves don't. Nevertheless, I had a blast yesterday scoping out all the animals native to Nigeria with my buds from the office, Shammah (picturesd) and Akim. Lions, elephants, and headless vultures (see picture for proof). The sad thing was that many of these animals looked really skinny. PETA people would go nuts here but really, when you think about, it makes sense. With most of the population living on less than $1 a day, making sure Mufasa over there has a fresh antelope each week really does not make it very high on the priority list. So as bad as I felt for the critters, I feel worse for the people I see every day who also won't have much for dinner tonight.

Golf Ball and Cobra Rock

THIS was a cool day of hiking. We may not have covered 20 miles, but today was not for the faint of heart. A totally different crew of adventurers convened and decided there was no better way to celebrate Nigeria's freedom than to take advantage of her natural beauty. Particulary the state we live in, Plateau State, is known for its unique rock formations. We first went to Golf Rock, who's name sake should be pretty obvious from the picture. But this was just a mild 15 minute hike. While up on top, taking in the surrounding beauty, some of us spotted this other rock that looked like a giant cobra's head. 5 of us were in the mood for a challenge so we hopped down and began forging our way to the cobra. If trails had been hard to come by before, this one took the cake. George, our leader, trailblazed the way through some pretty thick jungle and briar patch. At the end of the day his arms were shredded with cuts and scratches (of course when someone pointed it out, he just said, "Ah, a price worth paying for the adventure). I'd have to agree because once I finally got on top of Cobra Rock, I forgot about the 2" long thorns that had dug into my legs and the stinging nettle plant that left a myriad of bumps on my forearm. This was a GROOVY cliff with an INCREDIBLE view of the area. We hadn't even known that just a little ways away was a little village of about 10 mud and thatch huts. Some of the kids spotted us at the top and yelled up, "Hello Baturis, how are you?" haha! They're probably wondering why the heck we're climbing on rocks like this for fun. Luckily, we met a Fulani man (Fulani's are a nomadic tribe of people who heard their cows and goats all across western Africa) and were able to ask him for a suggestion on a better way down. Turns out, there was a more reasonable trail than the torture foliage we swam through.

So those are a few of my adventures thus far. I can think of no better word to teach you today than "Kai," pronouced "ki" with a long 'i'. It is used in a variety of ways but mostly to say, "wow." Sitting on those mountain tops drinking in the views, with the breeze cooling off my face and the symphony of noises in my ears, I could only praise God and remark, "Kai!"

CSI: Jos

Some days just don't turn out like you think they will, know what I mean?

This past weekend we hosted a sports ministry retreat at our campsite just outside of Jos proper. We were not in charge of the programming, just the facilities, food (recall my shopping trip with Mamma Hanatu), and a little canteen. Things had been going fairly well during the first two days, except that due to the number of participants fluctuating on a nearly hourly basis, we had to keep making runs into town for food. Saturday morning Claudia and I were doing just that but we kept getting these texts on the cell phones asking us to hurray up because people were not happy and there was a bad atmosphere at camp. No more details were given except some mention of running out of bread for breakfast, so we grab a few extra loaves and get out there as soon as we made our purchases. Upon arriving, however, we discover that there was a much bigger issue at hand than just some hungry bellies (though, that can be a pretty serious problem here, too).

Apparently, when one of our guards did not show up for work the night before, a search party was sent out and discovered him dead in the river bordering our property. So when we arrived, the body had been pulled out of the water and now needed transporting to the hospital. The chief of the village was there to oversea the procedure and several other men helped to pout the corpse in Claudia's truck. It was fairly bloody due to to some gash wounds to the head. Now, I did not have a chance to go near the corpse, much less take pictures, so you'll have to use your best Hollywood imagination. When Claudia returned from the hospital, we began to try and put some pieces of the puzzle together. Babba Afan, the guard, normally walked the couple of kilometers from his village to work. but unfortunately, often spent a good deal of time with the local brew before coming. He was an older gentleman and we had had an intense rainstorm the previous evening so not only was the river swollen, but the footbridge across it was mighty slick. We heard that a shoe was found on the bridge but the body was pulled out a couple hundred meters down a winding, narrow, -river, which seemed odd. Also giving us some pause were the seriousness of the gashes in Babba Afans's head, he messed up jaw, and the amount of blood he seemed to lose. So, the only thing to do was to go check out the crime scene. Four of us went down to the footbridge to have a look around and I'm telling you, it was straight off of CSI. I watched, somewhat bemused, as the tree trunks were inspected (with the naked eye) for skin or hair remnants and attempts were made to identify footprints on the boards of the bridge. I had to stop myself from asking out loud, "But what would the motive have been?" At the end of the day, we concluded that he might have fallen a couple times en route and then slipped and knocked his head really hard on the bridge as he fell into the river. No autopsy was done (they rarely are here), nor was a police report officially filed, so we'll never know for sure. I do know that Claudia's truck has never been so clean, though. She was just going to take a hose to it and was told that it had to be completely cleaned out and sanitized so that there would not be any suspicion of any of the blood being used for any kind of idol sacrifice. I was thinking more along the lines of disease transmission prevention, but was informed that animistic worship is still pretty rampant here and that's the reason for the thorough cleansing.

Babba Afan's death certainly caught me by surprise, but it has opened up a neat door to the village where he was from. The participants of the sports camp took the initiative to gather a collection of money to give to the bereaved family and Babba's family hardly knew what to do. Then some of us camp staff attended the funeral and burial on Monday (a whole other story) and the family and village elders were profoundly touched that we could make the effort to attend. This is not a Christian area and yet when we were leaving the village, the chief said, "We could really use a missionary like you, Aunty Claudia, here." Maybe, just maybe, Christ's love and compassion was communicated. You won't hear a CSI episode with that as the closing line.

Rare Ruwa

Word of the day: Ruwa (pronounced like it looks) = water

I couldn't resist sharing this with you. The other day I come back to my apartment and have a note on my door. Here's what it said:

Severe Water Shortage
Ground water takes are empty!
No flushing except 1x per day
No washing machine
No showers- only bucket baths
Save all water for flushing.

The funniest part was that the stationary it was written on had this poem by J. Howared Payne:
"Mid pleasures and palaces
though we may roam
be it ever so humble
there's no place like home."

Ha ha! Now, in case you don't remember, we are still in the rainy season until late October. And this picture is of the water reservoir for Jos... yes, it is full. So, you may ask, what's with the shortage? Well, apparently the water workers went on strike. Strikes are quite popular around here, especially with government paid jobs like university workers, federal farmers, city facility employees, etc. The workers timed it just right too because it hadn't rained in a few days so many people's extra supply, like ours, was low. Then, I guess the power company workers wanted to join in on the fun because that same night, the electricty went off for a few hours. Ah... T.I.A!

Mamma and Market

There's someone I'd like you to meet, her name is Hanatu, but to me, she's "Mamma Hanatu." Besides being beautiful, smart, and strong, Mamma Hanatu is our head cook for all the camps we do her in Jos and I had the pleasure of meeting her this week. For you Brookwoods/Deer Run people, she's like the Nigerian Momma St. John :) When she's not cooking for camp, she runs this shop in her neighborhood, selling Nigerian stables like cose, ache, maize, clean rice, "village" rice, beans (actually black-eye peas), ground nuts (peanuts, which, let's be honest, ground nuts makes more sense), and a few other things that I can't remember the name of. The picture is of M. Hanatu in her shop. Since a sports ministry would be utilizing our camp facility this weekend, we picked up M. Hanatu so we could go shopping for all the needed provisions. Not only does she know exactly where to go for each thing, but Claudia and my white skin would immediately drive up the price. So we picked her up and off we went to go shopping.

Now, perhaps you know something about shopping in countries like Nigeria, but just in case you don't, allow me to explain a few things. First, It is an absolutely wild experience. If you thought it was exhausting to make a Wal-mart run, try shopping for a week's worth of groceries here. Rather than having a super market with things ordered into aisles, the goods are loosely divided into sections of the market. And I mean, VERY loosely. Plus, there are several main markets in Jos and you certainly wouldn't get your yams the same place you buy your meat because the yams at this market are better and the owner of the meat stand at the other end of town is your cousin. I tried to take pictures of the market but what's not included is the bustle of people, motorbikes, cars and the aromas of smoking fish, picked this morning guavas, and fresh ginger root. All of your senses are on full alert. Well, thankfully, Mamma Hanatu was with us. I had done a bit of exploring in the market near my house, but hadn't ventured through all the alleys, squeezing around palm oil bottles and over trash-strewn gutters. At one point on this shopping adventure we divided up a bit in order to expedite the process. Claudia stayed to pay and M. Hanatu and I set off. Grabbing my hand, M. Hanatu steered me up and down the labiryth of shops. Her tough, calloused hands gripped mine with such a protective, motherly touch, I naturally followed her lead. She was never too rushed to stop and explain the use of items to me or answer my myriad of questions about what the heck I was looking at. In fact, I think she rather delighted in sharing her vast wisdom about her culture with me. I'm secretly trying to scheme ways to get her to go shopping with me more often :)

I'm sure there will be days when I'm dog-tired and just don't feel like plunging into the whirlwind of the market place, but right now it's pretty darn exciting. All the vegetables are fresh, delivered form the village that day and the meat, though potentially a little repulsing to my vegetarian friends, lays out on the table and is cut right in front of you. After a while, you drop these silly notions about flies contaminating food just by landing on them and you happily purchase a chunk of beef for dinner (like this girl in the picture is doing for her family). I'm beginning to get the hang of bargaining with people for I have a better idea now of how much I should be paying for a pineapple or a bag of lettuce. "400 Naira?! No way! I'll just go down the street." The key is to start to walk away and see if they call you back offering a lower price. Or the classic line they'll say, "OK, bring money." **chuckles** I love it, and so do they. At first I felt bad trying to get a lower price when compared to American prices it was already a steal. But I learned that 1) Nigerians enjoy bargaining; it's part of their culture, and to not do it is slightly offensive. 2) If we baturis (white people) pay the higher price all the time, then that will only help to drive up inflation. Thus, I'll pay no more than 250 Naira for a pineapple, and even then, it better be a big one.

Oh, and though Nigerians typically thing big when considering quantity, vegetables and fruit does not keep long, even in the refrigerator, so you end up having to shop at least a couple times during the week. Again, since you have to go 5 different places for 5 different things, you could end up shopping every day. I'm still getting the hang out it.

Well, I think I better stop there for the market post. I shan't leave you with out a Hausa phrase for the day, though. Here's a good one.

Nawa ne? (NOW-ah nay) = How much?

First day in the office!!

Yahoo!! Today I had my first full day in the ECWA (Evangelical Church of Western Africa) Camp Youth Alive (all of that abbreviated to ECYA) office with my 3 other co-workers: Claudia, Akim, and Shama. The three of them took last week off after finishing a full camping season and I read through camp evaluations and settled in. But today we came together as a team for the first time and it was glorious. Claudia is the captain of our team, having been the pioneer of this camping ministry for over 12 years. Akim and Shama have both been campers and counselors and now are on paid staff. Both are incredible men of God, ability, and passion for this ministry. I had been praying that we would all be unified in the Spirit from the beginning and I'm happy to report that it seems that God has answered that prayer. Because our team captain will be leaving for fulough in in November for 6 months, it's really important that Akim, Shama, and myself are in sync with each other since we'll be running the show. Please continue to pray for the handing over the baton process.

LANGA LANGA

OK, I know I have been putting the word of the day at the bottom of the blog, but this one was just too much fun. "Langa langa" is the phrase used to describe the action done to cut the grass. Now, don't substitute "mowing" in for grass cutting...no, no. To langa langa is to take a sickle-like tool and swing at the grass just so to cut it. I wish I had a picture of it to show you. Perhaps I'll take one sometime in the near future, but recently this "langaing" has intersected with my life. Saturday morning I wake up to the sound of a gardener outside of my window. Alarmed at first at the strange noise being made, then just curious, I peek out and see him langa langa the grass. This looks like it would be fun for all of 5 minutes. We don't have a whole lot of grass in the yard of our compound anyways, so I didn't feel TOO bad for our kind gardener. (By the way, he did a great job:) ) Then today, as we were discussing what needed to be done for the campsite to be ready for a sports team to come this weekend, Claudia says, "Yeah, and I need to ask the guards to langa langa the soccer field." I don't know what I reacted to more - the coolness of the word or the idea that 2 guys were going to have to clear an entire soccer field with a sickle! You people who are all into landscaping, can you imagine?! I guess that's why there aren't any fitness clubs in Nigeria and everyone is still so buff.

Anyways, I know that may not sound terribly exciting, but I got a kick out of it. I plan on writing a bit more about the camp but just to wet your appetite, pictured is the dining hall/meeting area/central building of the camp. Also, just to the right of the muddy drive is the aforementioned field.

One more big piece of news. As far as I know, this is not related in any way to Nigeria, but coinciding with leaving the states, I have acquired the ability to wiggle my ears. I've NEVER been able to do this before despite my sincere attempts. All of a sudden though, I can access the right muscles and it's quite entertaining. Sometimes, when I'm listening to someone, I wiggle them just a bit to see if it helps. Check out the video for this cool new René phenomenon.

And stay tuned for more African Annals!

Only a knife knows what the inside of a coco-yam looks like.

That's a good ol' African proverb for you, meaning that those who investigate and research something understand the subject. I've got be honest, I have yet to see the inside of a coco-yam. BUT, I have been able to check out some other nifty things this week and maybe, just maybe, I'm beginning to understand something more about Nigeria.

POUNDED YAMS

Everyone always wants to know "what do you eat?!?" whenever one travels to an unfamiliar country. Understandable, we like our tummies to be happy. I have been pretty curious too because the first few days I just bopped from one missionary family's house to another for meals, enjoying the perks of being a newcomer and consequently, I've eaten fairly normal food made mostly by non-Nigerians. One meal, I had the pleasure of partaking in the most quintessential Nigerian meal: pounded yams. Now, there's good reason why I haven't had this yet: it takes serious work! You have to peal and cook the yam, which looks like a really dirty potato on steroids (about as big as my leg from the top of the knee down and almost twice the diameter). Then you put the sucker in this overgrown wooden mortar and pestle (pictured with me) and just go at it for hours. I guess you'd call the process-pounding :) Well, there are a couple more steps, but you end up with rounded lumps that are cross between a dumpling (you northerners might not know what that is), mashed potatos, and raw dough. The proper Nigerian way to eat pounded yam is to break off a chunk, dip it in your soup, and the shove it in your mouth...no utensils required. See Corinne's lovely demonstration in the picture. We had this amazing soup called agusi...I've got to remember it the next time I buy food from one of those street vendors. SO, that helps to answer your question of what I might be eating for the next 2 years, and answers my question of what in the world you do with that monstrous potato-like vegetable sold every 5 feet in the market.

THE TRANSITION HOUSE

In leiu of the camp being cancelled for this week, I had the opportunity to see a couple of SIM's other ministries in Jos. So one rainy morning I jumped in a van and headed over to the Transition House (TH) for boys. When we arrive, what do we find, but a rousing game of soccer of course! I'm telling you, I've seen the exact same scene in Mexico, Brazil, and the Philippines and each time I can't help but smile at the inexplainable joy this game brings people. By the way, just as a sidenote, Nigerian just won the Under 17 World Cup this past weekend. That's a big deal, especially in helping the morale of these young guys to know that Nigerians can measure up favorably with the rest of the world. Well, these boys were having a blast and I watched them for a good half hour while hearing what TH is all about. Essentially, these boys chose to come off the streets at some point through the ministry of Gidan Bege ("House of Hope", another ministry of SIM), make a decision to permanently leave that way of living (stealing, begging, etc.) and work towards a better life. Each boy attends school and all kinds of programs run by TH such as Bible study, computer training, and choir. An older boy named, Tunda gave us a tour and repeatedly said, "I am so thankful for what this ministry has done. The ministry has done me much good." As we stood out on the porch talking with a couple guys, I was floored by their stories and their passion to serve God. Some want to be electrical engineers, some professional sports players, but all desire to share Christ's love in whatever they do with their life. I nearly teared up to hear about their dreams, knowing that so many boys their age have no real expectations of reaching their dreams and so they stifle them. Also, many of these boys had attended the camp program I've come to be a part of and shared how it was really foundational in their understanding of Christ. One boy said, "I came to camp, and I didn't know anything about Christianity. Soon after I left camp I came to know Jesus personally." Wow. That's why I am here in Nigeria: that these kids may know Christ and His love more than before and then be about the business of making Him known. By His grace, that's what I'll do.

SIGHTS AND SUPERvisor Finally, at long last, I've been able to hang out with Claudia (pictured with a weird look on her face...she has a great smile normally:)), the current camp coordinator who I will be working VERY closely with for the next 2 years. We've spent some great time together already, getting to know each other and her beginning the transaction of oodles of information about the camp over to me. We took a little drive up to the campsite just outside of Jos and I saw the natural beauty of the area with delightful mountains popping up all over the landscape. It's not called the plateau state for nothing! As fun as the city is, I felt myself relax a bit more when we were surrounded by the mountains and fields. I imagined myself taking afternoons to climb up the rock bolders and explore the rock formations. Such a beautiful country...you should really see this, because only a knife knows what the inside of a coco-yam looks like :)

And your Hausa for the day is: San Juma = "see you later"

Let me count the ways...

Home in Nigeria, how do I love thee, let me count the ways:
(see those windows down on the left...that's my place!)

-I love how this compound isn't so much several separate apartments, but rather one big house for us single missionaries. As of today, 6 of the spaces are occupied by other single folks like myself and one couple affectionately called, "Mom and Dad." We all float in and out of each other's apartments with much more comfortably than I've ever seen in the states.

-I love how my gate key only opens one (red one in picture above) of the 3 gates to the compound. Even more fun how one door can't be closed from the outside so when I come in that one gate, I still have to walk around to my back door to get in. (back door pictured w/ me)

- I REALLY love the garden out my back door complete with mango, avocado and guava trees. There are also some really pretty plants and flowers but I'm not horticulturalist...especially not in Africa. You'd love it though mom and Russ!

-I love how I've inherited all this random household goods left behind by previous short-termers (2 years or less). Included in the loot is a REALLY old painting of some fisherman's docking station in 1920 Ireland, an adorable tea & saucer set for two, and my first kerosene stove. This last item is glorious seeing as the power goes on and off quite frequently. More on that later.

-I love my inline water filter for the way it methodically extracts all the yuckies and then gently drips into my nalgene. I certainly don't have to worry about it gushing everywhere! (see the white cylindrical thing pictured near the sink. yay for no water-born parasites!)

-I love our guard dogs, the lizards (pictured) who stand watch, ready to snap up any perpetrating spider or insect. I haven't see very many at all yet, for which I am quite grateful. I think rainy season keeps them at bay.

- I love the guards at the gate who often are resting if I get back later than 7pm, but who'll greet me with the biggest smile. One of them was the first number I put into the phone I got today. He also took this picture of Corinne and myself outside the gate. What a guy!

- I love how close I live in relation to my office (I could throw a stone and hit it...easily), the ECWA headquarters (out the back gate and across the street), and the center of town with the market (totally within walking distance...unless you're carrying a palate of eggs, bananas, outlet converters, flour, and vegetable cleaner...then you might want to hail a taxi).

And oh, the thoughtful color-coordination in the living room (pictured), 6:30 am squeaky gate opening, elegant (I think) mosquito net above my bed, and tin roofs all around that become marvelous instruments for the rain showers...all these things have endeared this place to me. I still haven't quite come to grips with the fact that I'm setting up residence here for two years (that's what my visa says), but "home" has escaped my lips already when referring to my apartment. Really...you should come see it :)

T.I.A

<--[My first view of Nigeria from the airplane and the Sahara that I got to see for about 3 hours out of my window-->]

If any of you have ever seen the movie "Blood Diamond" (I highly recommend it), you may be familiar with the phrase T.I.A.: This Is Africa. I thought I understood it before, but just being here 5 days has shed some blazing new light on the concept. You may be wondering why I'm writing a blog since I'm supposed to be off somewhere doing my best to run my first Nigerian youth camp. Well...this is Africa. No, that doesn't mean that I'm writing this via some REALLY cool, advanced piece of technology available only in Nigeria. Here's what it means. Friday morning I am in the shower, going through things in my head and making sure I have everything together that I need to leave for camp @ 10 when I hear some knocking outside my b-room window. My window opens up to the same hallway that my front door does but it's hard to tell which door someone's knocking on becaue everything echoes. Well, that confusion was cleared up when I hear, "René...?" So from the shower I answer, "I'm here...in the shower. Who is it?" Turns out to be Claudia Long, the director, trailblazer, and powerhouse of this camping ministry. She also happens to be my supervisor and the ride I was looking for. I finish up quickly, throw some clothes on and throw the door open to greet Claudia. We exchange long-awaited hugs and then she informs me that there will be no more camps, they've been cancelled. Then, with much regret and frustration she goes on to explain how the committee heads of this one community waited until the night before staff training was to begin to inform her that they hadn't been able to get enough kids to sign up. There are MANY details involved here (money, agriculture community, Nigerian's reluctance to disappoint, lack of ability to communicate, etc.) but the end of the story was that I would not be rushing off 2 days after I arrived to start camp. This is a bit unfortunate because I won't have a chance to do a camp with Claudia before she leaves for a 6-month furlough(missionary vacation of sorts) and hands the reigns over to me and her other assistant. On the plus side, I got to spend the day (my birthday, by the way) with Claudia asking a zillion questions and then attending a great bit potluck dinner with many of the other SIM missionaries that serve in Nigeria. What a fantasticly diverse and dynamic group of people there were filling that house...not to mention some incredible food. I can't wait to learn how to cook more!! Ah, well, that's enough for this post. I'm sure there'll be more examples of how T.I.A. in the future.