Like a rolling rainstorm

“The incongruous, lawless, joyful, violent, upside-down, illogical certainty of Africa comes at me like a rolling rainstorm, until I am drenched with relief.”

–Alexandra Fuller, Don’t let’s go to the dogs tonight

When I read those words a few months ago, I felt a resonation within me in a prophetic sort of way. The author writes it upon returning to Africa and last week, as I drank in the familiarity of my life here in Nigeria, I felt the fulfillment of that prophecy. In fact, it even hit as I waited at the gate to board the plane in London, surrounded by a throng of Nigerians. The place smelled like Nigerians, not in a bad way...more like recognizing your dad’s aftershave. And there was no mistaking the dialect of English spoken. As Andrew said of his airport experience, “it felt like home already.” Indeed...but there have been a few more interesting reminders that I’m back in Africa.

Since we’re in the throes of rainy season now, luscious, green, vibrant foliage has covered the landscape. Total transformation of the dusty, brown, dried up land of a couple months ago. Now, it was a little drizzly in Ireland, but African, at least Nigerian, rain is completely different. You don’t have a gentle pit-patter on and off throughout the day that allows you to just carry an umbrella and be ok. Nope, these daily rainstorms roll in with authority and like Nigerians, are a beautiful blend of loudness and comfort. Sometimes it’s annoying, but usually I’m delighted to listen to the drum-set being played on our tin roof.

Also welcoming me back to Jos is a ridiculously minimal amount of NEPA (“Nigerian Electric Power Authority”, the word used for power or electricity). Now, I’m more than well aware that many people, even in Jos, NEVER have NEPA, and so I shouldn’t complain...but when you’re used to being able to count on at least 5 hrs a day, or every other day, it’s an adjustment to be reduced to 5 hrs a week. Can’t have left-overs because the ‘fridge is already taking on a bit of a funky smell; better carry your phone charger with you in case you’re in a place where you can plug up for ½ an hour; definitely go running the morning so when the hot water heater hasn’t been able to operate for a few days, you won’t mind the cold water as much. Whenever NEPA goes out, people say, “Wanene ya kai wuta?” = “Who took the light/fire?” I find that a rather amusing question to ask, for rarely is there any sort of logical answer. HOWEVER, the word on the street says that this latest shortage of NEPA has a direct cause.

The scoop is, a new president/CEO/some important position of NEPA was recently instated. He started discovering that some other important people had been embezzling the money given by the federal gov’t for the improvement of the nation’s power. Classic case of African corruption. Well anyways, this dude had threatened to expose some of these criminals and they, in turn, hired hit men. Thus, last Monday this dude was assassinated less than a mile up the road from my house. Comforting, huh? (sorry mom) The company naturally had to observe protocol and most workers attended the burial. In defiance of this crime, the workers have since gone on strike to protest. Now, none of this will be in the papers and even if it was, that wouldn’t confirm its validity, but I’ve heard the assassination part of it from two completely different sources. I’m naturally irritated that I have to go out and buy another pack of candles tomorrow and can’t buy much produce for fear of it spoiling in my not-so-frigid refrigerator...but I’m WAY more frustrated by the pervasive evil I’m forced to confront. Must people be so bent on their own self-interests and own betterment that they’re willing to cause hundreds of others to suffer? The hearts of people are no different here than in the U.S., but the communal nature of this culture means I feel the effects from the poor decisions of others.

Another absurd and recurring fact of life for me in Jos deals with the Federal Court of Appeals located just across the street from my compound and office. Whenever a big case is taking place, or an important person is involved, the whole block is barricaded with oodles of military police toting machine guns, trucks, horses, and tanks. The hightened (ßunderstatement) security is necessitated by the presence of all the people that fill the streets in support or opposition to the case in question. For instance, when some state’s election is being appealed, herds of men in their finest kaftan and hats are EVERYWHERE. Needlesstosay, the scene can be a bit alarming. I sneaked this picture one day, but for most cases, add about 20 more uniformed people. Anyways, my first day back at the office involved navigating such a circus and I found myself sighing and saying, “Ah, Nigeria...how I’ve missed thee.”

Hopefully I haven’t been too negative in sharing my first impressions of re-entry. On the whole, I have relished in catching up with my family here. When I returned to the office, my aunties there grabbed me and jumped up and down in joyful dance that I had returned. People were sincerely interested in how everything went both in the US and Ireland. Oh, and every Nigerian wanted to know how my family in the US was and if I greeted you all for them :) As I visited with some of my Nigerian sisters, I realized how very much I missed them. There are some beautiful souls here that I count myself blessed to have built a friendship with. AND, I am WAY excited about our camps coming up in a few weeks! Preparation has been kicked into high gear and with each task I complete my anticipation grows. Whether it’s in New Hampshire, North Carolina, or Nigeria, there’s nothing like camp. More on that later...

For now, I think the answer to the question, “How’s it been being back in Africa?” can best be answered, “Like a rolling rainstorm.” Yay.