Dinner in Jos

An hour in the life of René:
Some loud voice outside my window yells something resembling my name, awaking me from my pleasant little afternoon nap. Since I have malaria, I'm entitled, in fact, ordered, to such indulgences. The man wasn't really trying to get in touch with me, but rather, talking to someone on his cell (which Nigerians do VERY loudly). I stretch my arms wide and noticing it's about 6:00, concede that waking up would be the wise decision. "Hmm, what shall I fix for dinner tonight?" I ask myself. Since I've been laid up the past several days, people have brought by food, or come by to hang out and cook with me, so I've used up many left-overs. ALSO, my dishes are starting to form a nice little resemblence of the Andes Mountain Range over by the sink. Wait all you moms, before you begin to chide me for my poor domestic skills, you should know that we have been on a water shortage this week. As discussed in an earlier post, this is not because the city resevoir is dry, but because the water workers are on strike since the governor has not given them the pay increase he promised 2 months ago. SO, I've done the bare minimum rinsing to keep the critters away (from kitchen and body...that's another story) and worked to make it till Friday when Mama Tabitha comes and cleans them (if I do them on Thursday, she'll be out of job). OK, back to dinner-making. One of my go-to meals is some variation of the veggie omlette. A quick glance in the fridge encourages me with peppers, onions, tomatoes already cut up in nice little tupperware containers (see, I DO have some domestic know-how), cheese, homemade salsa, and a few homemade tortillas that just need to be fried up. (Hope you're not reading this too far from your lunch break) The problem, aforementioned, arises with my dish situation. I have no clean frying pan and the dirty ones are past the point of a quick scrub and rinse...but this dinner will NOT be stopped! Deciding a small saucepan will do for the eggs, I toss some oil into it and light the stove. Several broken matches later (what does it take to make a box of matches where at LEAST 43% of them work??), oil is being heated and the veggies get tossed in. Meanwhile, I'm strategizing how to fry the tortillas. Ah-ha! The sliding lid to a bread pan stares at me from the counter. Metal, heat-conductor, oven safe...why not? Once I finish with my little scrambled egg concoction (which stuck a LOT to the sides b/c saucepans are meant for SAUCES not eggs) I toss the greesed-lid on the stove, gingerly place the tortilla down and wait to see if I've made a horrible mistake. Then...NEPA goes out. Great. I dash to the room, fumble through my drawers, and victoriously emerge with my headlamp. With the LED glow coming from my forehead, I carefully fry the tortillas. Inevitably, they burn a little, but totally still edible. (At some point, I had grabbed the glorious remants of a box of Wheat Thins someone had sent me from the states to satiate my hunger.) I grab a fork and plate from the edges of the Andes (meaning it was used either today or last night) and finally, I'm sitting down at my table with two sad excuses for breakfast burritos on a plate. Knowing my salsa is kickin' I look for water to find that I only have 1/4 left in a small bottle and one more big bottle left, that I should probably save since there's not telling how long this water issue's going to last. I bowed my head, giving thanks for this provision, knowing there are plenty of people less than a mile away going to bed with far less and worse in their stomachs. As I ate my delectible dinner by headlamp (could have lit candles, but I was still annoyed with the matches) I couldn't help but chuckle at the process I just went through. Thing is...this sort of stuff characterizes my daily life here in Nigeria. And you know what else? I love it. Every make-shift meal, broken match, malaria test, bucket bath, hard avocado, humbling part of it. However...I'm also REALLY grateful for those Wheat Thins :)

good food = "abincin da dadi"

Kamp Kurmin Musa!!

At long last, I was able to be a part of my first Nigerian youth camp January 6-13th, and it was INCREDIBLE. I've delayed making this post in part because I really don't know where to begin or how to describe it. Not only was this my first camp, but it was the first time ECWA Camp Youth Alive (ECYA) had held a camp in this little village called Kurmin Musa. Kurmin Musa is a ginger farming community with little else going on so when we came in, everyone knew about it. Plus, I was the only bature (white person) for miles. I'm sure other white people have been there, but it's been a long time since one stayed all week. I've gotten fairky used to the staring and kids calling out "baturiya! baturiya!" in Jos, but this week was a whole new level of celebrity-ness. Regardless of what I was doing or what time it was, the neighborhood kids would gather around the porch, grass, or windows and takes notes on what this strange bature was doing. Honestly, I often forget that I look any different than everyone else because we're all doing the same thing and THEY don't look strange to me, so why should I look strange to them? Apparently just the site of my white skin is cause for hours of entertainment for these kids. (Note the picture of the kids in the window. This was pretty common).
Back to the camp. Though this was a YOUTH camp, all the campers were between 16-25. In Nigeria, if you're not married, you're still considered a "youth" so our ministry usually divides into two age groups: junior (12-16) and senior (16-28). Seems pretty crazy since 16-28 would never be an age group in the US, right? Wasn't a problem here. We had 38 campers and 11 staff as "hut leaders" (the equivalent of cabin counselors) from Kurmin Musa. 6 of us drove in from Jos as the administrative staff, in charge of activities, sports, crafts, hut chiefs, etc. Oh, and let me not forget some of my favorite people at camp, the cooks (see picture). These 8 women were nothing short of delightful and served up some of the best Nigerian food I've had yet! Several afternoons I sat down by the fire with them chatting about all the little things women chat about. Once they found out I have a special man in my life, we had a hysterical conversation about how I need to send a vehicle to take them the airport and then a plane for them to come to America so they can cook for my wedding. I tried to explain that I am a missionary, and consequently, don't exactly have a private jet to send out to bring them to my wedding. Not sure if they believe me. But, I wouldn't mind having them cook me some food any day. Truth be told, I was a little nervous about eating Nigerian food all week because the high concentration of palm oil, in just about every dish, can do a number on your GI tract. But this stuff was GOOD and agreed with me the entire week, save one night involving a frantic dash through the dark to the "toilet." (see picture) I was never so grateful to get to a hole in the ground. This may seem rustic, but it's typical 'round here. When I went to visit some neighbors' homes, their toilet was set up pretty much the same way. Once the whole filled up, they'd just move the little thatch enclosure. As for bathing, it was all bucket bath style. Part-way through the week we were able to rig up a tap that worked most of the time so if you felt like a little "yi wanka"(= bathing) you'd take your bucket, fill up, and find some secluded place, like the girls' washroom, pictured below. Casting aside all inhibitions along with your clothes, you then stand there and do your best at alternative between scooping water with a cup and lathering up. This was one of the reasons I got my hair braided...didn't have to endure cold water over my head. It was all wonderfully refreshing though, especially after game time.

last. Singing came joyfully from the heart, notes taken during speaker's talks, and engagement in the hut Bible studies. Hearing some of the testimonies at the campfire on the last night blew my mind with their sincerity and openness. Several shared that they were expecting something completely different, but learned so much that they couldn't wait to go home and tell others. I could go on and on about some of the things campers shared, but one of the most striking thing I heard was how this camp was the first time many had heard anything about spending time alone with the Lord, doing personal devotions...and these were mostly church-going Nigerians. One of the foci for ECYA is discipleship so we were thrilled to hear so many campers and staff express a desire to be involved in discipleship after camp. THEN an older gentleman that played a big role in getting ECYA to Kurmin Musa, offered to head up a discipleship program. Personally, I'm eager to come back next year and see what all the Lord has done in these lives. In my own life, even more rewarding than the food and times of bathing, were the changed lives I got to witness. From campers and staff alike, I saw noticeable differences from their first day to the, there was incredible confirmation that right now, youth camping ministry is totally my element, my calling, my passion. Somehow, amidst the snakes, scorpions, stares, Hausa conversations, and bucket baths, I felt just as comfortable here that I did serving at Camp Brookwoods in NH, USA. As Max Lucado says, "“There's inexplicable joy and peace at the wedding of my trust and God's faithfulness."
If you are interested in contributing financially to this ministry and helping more youth attend such a life-changing camp, follow the link on the right. ECYA relies on contributions from generous folks like yourself to make camp happen each time and right now we're starting to raise subsidy for the 2008 season. Email me if you have any questions!

Welcome to 2008!!

I realize that my post are have some serious chronology issues. Sorry about that. Some pictures and stories are too good to pass over. And besides, this keeps my newsletter updates from being 20 pages long. People often want to wonder how the holidays are spent when they aren't in their "normal" habitat. Where else would I spend New Year's Eve than at the Wildlife Park? A group of us smiling singles serving in Jos thought it'd be cool to camp out ontop this overlook in the park, so rather than try to dodge security and sneak in, we had a chat with the guards. For a small price (especially when split amongst 15 of us) we were greeted at the entrance with smiles as the gate swung open. Other than the savage, wild beasts we were now enclosed with, our safety was taken care of. We toted firewood, guitar, sparklers, s'more fixings (sent from the US...no marshmellows to be found 'round here), sleeping bags, and reflections on 2007 up to the look out. For hours we sat around a fire talking, singing, telling jokes, sharing stories, and daring each other to go ride the elephant. At some point some of us found ourselves in a sleeping bag or under a blanket attempting to catch a few winks. But we all were awake for the first dawn of the year. Here is my first view of Africa in 2008, the sun rising up on my city of Jos and a year of untold adventure.
Well, what better way to celebrate the first day of my entire year in Nigeria than at a tribal dancing festival? So, a smaller gathering of friends and I headed out to the town of Miango for their celebration. I honestly don't think I could ever do justice with my words. First of all, there were tons of these awesome kids that were constantly being yelled at by adults for getting too close to the front. Of couse, since we're batures and we had cameras, we could get as close as we want. We sided with the kids, put our arms around a couple, and secured them a good viewing location. Here's a great pic with Dana, her mom and friend, and myself with a crew of these cuties. When we walked back to our cars, each of us had both hands held by kids who wanted to honor us by escorting us back to my car.


Oh, so the festivities also included all these different groups taking their turn to do a dance in the center of the square arena. Most of the time this involved some sweet drums, stomping, dust flying, singing, and groovy tribal attire. Then, the group would head into this center ring area and people who wanted to pay tribute or reward them for their good performance would go in and place small denominations of money on their head, also called "spraying ". I found out later that spraying has been outlawed in Nigeria. WELL, Dana and I didn't know that at the time, so at one point, we decided to join in the fun, boogied into the center ring after one group, "sprayed" a few performers and started shaking our groove thang. We were the only white people that had done such a thing all day so all the Nigerians got a kick out it. We even got a little spray action ourselves! Dana's mom was able to catch some footage of the jubilation in this video. All in all, I can't think of a better way to start my first full calendar year in Africa. Can't wait to see what else 2008 will bring!

We didn't start the fire...

In addition to the dust, cloudless days, and brown landscapes, dry season also means these incredible bush fires. Now, I haven't figured it all out, but I think the idea is to clear the tall grass and land to make it easier to farm. So they'll set this one area on fire and just let it go. I don't think there's much control about where it goes. Usually footpaths or fences curb the burning. Also, another benefit is that the fire pushes all the bush rats and rodents to a certain area, making them easier to catch. Yum yum!

These shots were taken out at Miango, where we had our annual SIM-Nigeria Spiritual Life Conference. Brings a whole meaning to being "baptized by fire." Jocelyn and I are on the run here.

Soon I'll be posting a blog about the INCREDIBLE week of camp we had last week in Kurmin Musa, so don't turn that dial! Pictures of it have already been uploaded. If you just click the right link that says, "Lots of pictures" you'll be escorted to my web album.

Word of the day: "Wuta" = fire; light. This is also the word used for power so when NEPA goes out, they say, "Who took the fire?" = Wanene kai wuta?"

Lovin' lots of locks

Who doesn't like a new look for a new year? I finally got to go Nigerian with my hair. A couple neighbors came over last Saturday and spent the entire day grafting the extensions into my hair. When I say the entire day, I mean from 8:30am to 5:30 pm. Hey, beauty takes time! If you're thinking, "Rene, I can't believe you spent an entire saturday getting your head yanked on" then may I remind you that Nigerians (and actually, many African Americans) do this at least once a month. No wonder they're ok with having to wear head-ties. It's a quick fix until they can find time to sit for 6+ hours.

I didn't have it too bad because I was able to sit in my house and catch up on emails and other computer work.

I delighted in chatting with Comfort and her sisters Abigail and Patience, who came to help a little bit. Comfort is studying Geology at the university and taught me a bit about the unique rock formations here in Jos.

Um, but there were definitely times when it felt more like torture than pampering. Yanking on little bits of hair so the extensions could be tied as close to the scalp as possible. Some people stopped by to visit throughout the day and I think if they weren't there I would have been in tears. And I definitely thought I was within 10 mins of being done at least 20 times. The home stretch seemed to take longer than the first 90% of my head.

Now, this may be a stretch, but I think this experience epitomizes cross-culture living. While you're doing "work" your native culture and the new culture are gradually being entwined together. Sometimes you reach your hand back to check out the progress to be delightfully surprised at how far you've come. This can lead to misjudgement about how far is still left to go. Sometimes, the blending hurts. Sometimes, it pulls you off balance. Sometimes, interruptions slow down the process. And sometimes you're not sure if you're doing the right thing or if it's going to be one huge ugly mess that will take a while to correct. However, if the final product on my head now is any rule of thumb, then the joining of your "normal" life with the new life will be a beautiful, fun, new creation that you'll absolutely love.