6 month anniversay!

Today marks 6 months since my feet touched African soil. “Already?!?” you might exclaim…tell me about it. It truly doesn’t feel like I should be ¼ done with my time here. The cultural lessons I receive daily remind me that I’m still a novice at this whole Nigerian thing. Some days, I feel I’m totally acculturated...these would be the days I converse in Hausa without making a complete fool of myself, walk away from the market KNOWING I wasn't scammed, or walk down the street thinking no one notices I’m not really Nigerian. The past couple weekends have afforded me both experiences.
A few weeks ago throngs of women drifted in and out of my office building collecting “uniforms” for their women’s fellowship. I asked a colleague what one has to do to get a uniform and she said, “Oh! You want one? I’ll sew one for you.” Sure enough, a week later, my dear Auntie Deborah puts one on my desk and tells me I should come to the area’s Women’s Fellowship Conference the following weekend. Apparently, the conference is one of the only times you wear the uniform, and since I now owned one, I made arrangements to go. As I walked into the sea of green and purple I thought to myself, “This sure doesn’t look like a Beth Moore women’s retreat!” Can you imagine a women’s retreat where 5,000 + women all wear the same thing? And we’re not talking about an attractive outfit here that everyone looks good in...look at it!

They deliberately picked a hideous color scheme. Plus, you don’t have much latitude of how the uniform is sewn; just one terribly unbecoming style permitted. Some women look quite lovely in it, but not this little baturiya who doesn’t fill it out at all. Speaking of my whiteness, I should mention that I was the ONLY baturiya in this crowd. Consequently, Auntie Deborah and I were ushered to the seats of importance behind the podium and anyone who knew me easily detected me when I joined in the dancing and singing.

Pictured here is one of the ladies from my office giving a special number with the rest of her church’s women’s fellowship. Doesn't she just epitomize a heart of gold oozing with joy? And you know, she has that every morning during devotions before she spends hours sweeping the floors and cleaning the office. One of my favorite parts was when the speaker said, “Please stand up if you are married and/or have children.” Literally every other women in the place stood up except for me. Did I mention the unwritten rule about having to be married to join a women’s fellowship? As if I wasn’t already the odd ball. Then the speaker said, “Or, if you WANT to get married someday,” then I stood up proudly, drawing hearty chuckles from my neighbors. The whole experience delighted me and was a reminder of how much I want to dive deeper into the community here.

Now, this past weekend I attended a "sendforth" for my colleague's fiance. A sendforth takes place within a week before the wedding and serves as the ceremony where the groom-to-be brings the gifts to the soon-to-be-inlaws...traditionally this would involve cows, goats and such things. Dancing, singing, speaches, and prayers are done in honor of the bride-to-be as she is "sent forth" to get married. This is also a chance for people to give monetary gifts to the families. For instance, Ketuah (the bride-to-be) had written this pamphlet for the young women of Nigeria, but before they would pass any copies out, the master of ceremonies said, "Let's see if something can be put in this bowl strong enough to open up the package of pamphlets." Thus, the trumphet and drum band struck up a song, Ketuah started dancing, and people filed up to "spray" her with money. What a riot! I wonder if I could get my friends and family to throw money at me when I dance the week before my wedding. Stay tuned for an update on the wedding itself coming up this coming weekend...I'm so pumped:)
So, on this culture and tradition-rich day were a few notables:
--while dancing up to the front to spray Ketuah, one girl wore an Avril Lavinge t-shirt. Wow, talk about counter-culture. "I'm off again in my world..."
--white pieces of trash tied to tall stalks in a field that serve as fetishes to curse anyone who tries to trespass or steal from the land.
--kids in the ceremony literally did not take their eyes off me the ENTIRE time. The kids sitting near me inched closer every chance they got. Some even dared to put their little hands on my arm to touch white skin, then looked at me perplexed.
--Once I got back to Jos, driving through a pretty busy section of town, what do I see on the side of the road but a man walking BUTT NAKED down the road. [sorry, no picture] Not a stich of fabric on his body. Unfortunately, this guy probably wasn't aserting his right to dress however he wants...he was likely deranged. Rounded off my day of experiences though.

SO, there are some glimpses into my life her in Nigeria in the past couple of weeks. And you know, I'm continuing to love it as much today as I did 6 months ago...naked men and all.

Hausa word of the day: Tsirara = naked :)