I had the funniest thing happen during second period today. First, I must describe second period. There are about ten kids, all ninth and tenth graders. They are currently working on abstract expressionist paintings. They each grab their painting and pallets and set up on their own little section of table around the room. Because of the nature of abstract expressionism, much of the painting is done by dribbling and even splattering paint. Some of it is done like finger painting. All of it is messy and everyone wears aprons. But I will get to that in a minute.
The kids in the class are from all different cultures and nations. We have equal guys and girls and a variety of social skills.
One of the boys, we will call him Krishana, has a very difficult time in social situations. He is from a strict culture and has had few interactions with students his own age. I could blame it on a variety of things but it mostly boils down to the fact that he is a teenage boy. He is the kind of kid who tries to one-up the next kid, jump into the punchline of every joke and add his input to all conversations to which he does not belong. However, the past two weeks have shown a gradual thaw in the attitudes toward Krishana.
Tommy, on the other hand, is a good-looking African male who is popular and talented.
So this morning, everyone in the class was busy working. Krishana and Tommy were working next to each other and good natured trash talking started. Tommy was painting with his fingers and both boys were critiquing each other's work. I began to raz Tommy, because he seemed to be more focused on threatening Krishana with his paint covered fingers than actually working.
As I was about to start reprimanding Tommy for a second time, he turns to Krishana and pokes him in his stomach. The whole room stopped. Everyone turned and watched as Krishana looked down to his pristine white apron with one solitary red dot in the middle.
Then, Krishana did something I did not expect. I turned to yell at Tommy when Krishana grabs his stomach, moans and slowly collapses to the floor, raising on hand grasping for life.
The entire class burst out laughing. "Tommy killed him!" I was laughing so hard I couldn't yell at Tommy. I love it when these kids evolve right in front of me.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Inflation is the devil
With the falling value of the US dollar and the massive inflation of food prices, I have been resorting to old university tricks to stay fed. Needless to say, these newest cartoons by Get Fuzzy have held a special spot in my heart.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Work
The blog has been severely neglected. I blame the insane amount of work that I have to do. Who knew that 11 hour days could be so unproductive. On top of all that, my school is trying to transition to IB standards. Without a huge amount of detail, the basics of IB is an intensive 11-12 grade program that is supposed to challenge all students. Its like AP on steroids and all students are required to take the course, but not take the test. I think there will be a whole lot of failure, and that is the optimistic side of things. Currently, the administration is asking me to create and entire high school curriculum in accordance to this international program. Curriculum writing is a full-time job and unless they are willing to pay me a double salary, I am not going to be able to do it. They have also told us that a normal working day next year is 10 hours. That isnt including the meetings, clubs, and other responsibilities that take the weekends and evenings. You can see how morale at the job site is slipping a little.
Regardless, my students are producing some amazing artworks. The latest has been the color collage with magazines. This one is mine, its Halloween themed, because of my adoration of that particular holiday.
The rest are an assortment of student picked subject matter. Each student had to cut or tear out colors from magazines. The catch? Each piece had to be smaller than their thumbnail. Excruciating amount of time passed but in the end, I think it was worth it. Here are some examples of my 7 and 8 graders' final product.
The advanced art class also finished their monster projects. I like them and they have a ton of character. The students seemed to like them as well.
I have fantastic students and I adore them! They make being in Africa worth it. Most feedback from parents is very positive and all the students seem to enjoy the class.
Regardless, my students are producing some amazing artworks. The latest has been the color collage with magazines. This one is mine, its Halloween themed, because of my adoration of that particular holiday.
The rest are an assortment of student picked subject matter. Each student had to cut or tear out colors from magazines. The catch? Each piece had to be smaller than their thumbnail. Excruciating amount of time passed but in the end, I think it was worth it. Here are some examples of my 7 and 8 graders' final product.
The advanced art class also finished their monster projects. I like them and they have a ton of character. The students seemed to like them as well.
I have fantastic students and I adore them! They make being in Africa worth it. Most feedback from parents is very positive and all the students seem to enjoy the class.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Marine's Birthday Ball
I was fortunate enough to attend the annual Lagos Marine's Birthday Ball last Saturday night. After getting all hookered up, two co-workers and I took a drive down four blocks to the Civic Center and entered that amazingly out-of-place building. The building itself is a rectangle with a huge spiked curve on the top which is always lighted. Its a very different look from the traditional square buildings of the rest of Victoria Island.
Regardless, we climbed out of the car and proceeded to the massive security check which included ID checks at the door, ID checks inside the door, metal detectors, metal wand detectors after that and a thorough search through my purse. Yes, I had a purse. Where else was I to keep the cell phone that I am continually reprimanded for not carrying on my person? Anyway, the ball was interesting. I had never before been to a non-church sponsored adult dance. It was particularly entertaining because of its open bar. More than one teacher was plastered that night.
The food was good, the pomp and circumstance was blissfully short and the dancing was continuously entertaining. Ever seen a 70 year old man freak dance a 25 year old woman? Ever seen your co-workers so drunk that their only dance move is the effort it takes to try and stand in one location? Yes, I was privy to these experiences and more. All in all, it was a fun evening and I was able to meet a ton of new people. Many consulate workers from the US were there as well as foreign diplomats. My table held all of the Brittish High Commission or some such thing. While those new friends are fun, its difficult to understand the accent after the fifth bottle of wine.
I did have some LDS friends there to make the evening fun. This is Jeff and I watching the teachers try to function on copious amounts of alcohol. The video is an embarrassing moment that I didnt realize was being video taped.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Well, there isn't much gossip. Because of my recent kidney, bladder, skin and sinus infection debacle...I have been keeping a pretty low profile. Those of you privy to my intense discomfort and often embarassing symptoms will be pleased to hear that i am well on my way to recovery and the medical supplies here are adequate for my needs.
I spent only 2 of the last ten days at work. Most of it was not my fault, as I only missed two days of school. We had a 5 day weekend because of Eid (a Muslim Holiday) and I was beyond greatful for it.
I really don't have any new pictures either, and cant photograph any of the cool items I bought from the market because most are Christmas presents. Oh, and Josie has not yet given me the other pictures in a format in which my computer will appreciate. Poor little Mac.
Instead, I am taking a page out of Michael Hammond's book (literally, I think he is up to Book of Michael Seven, or such) and am going to rant about the things that bother me. He is horrifyingly more elegant and eloquent but I had to return the favor and drop his name at least once. Plus, here I can vent in a public forum without being shot.
You're Welcome
This is something that all of the Nigerian people say. As soon as you walk through the door....you're welcome. As soon as you step outside, you're welcome. See, some white person ages ago must have beaten the concept of polite society and declared that welcoming everyone into your vicinity is the only thing to do. However, the tone, or I should say inflection of the phrase is much different than you and I would say. It is said as if you have been done a special favor. You see, the phrase is only used as a greeting, not as an affirmation of receiving thanks. Anytime you actually receive help? Nothing. You're welcome is only reserved for white people and only as a small talk phrase. So every time I arrive anywhere, I am told that I am welcome....for being allowed in the presence of greatness, i assume. It takes a while to get used to and is often mocked privately in my own home. Walk into a new room? You're welcome.
Horn Honking
Oh holy cow! Traffic here is an amazing, scary, and awful thing. If only words could describe the sonic sound and general panic feeling of the common commute. When you arent squishing three cars into 20 feet of road, you are stopped dead, jammed into a seemingly chaotic pile of other cars. Many times, the side mirrors on the car must be closed in as to allow enough space for the car next to us. In this environment, when construction, vendors, beggars and heat prevent motorists from communicating effectively with one another they honk. And honk, and honk. Its a way of life here. It is not out of anger, or rudeness, though it is often done with the same emotions and intents, it is mostly a warning system to other drivers and pedestrians that our car is approaching, cutting off, or generally getting into your cars way, or visa versa.
You can imagine that in a city of 15 million, the honking creates a never ending sound. All times at night and especially during traffic the honking can be overwhelming.
The single time there is not a resonating horn throughout the city is during sanitation Saturday. The fourth Saturday of every month has four hours of the morning for road and street maintenance. Blissful quiet ensues when no motor vehicles are allowed in the city during these hours. This is quite the joke, as you can see from previous posts, the roads or horrible. But the morning of relative silence is appreciated.
Tiny village syndrome
Everyone knows everything about everyone. It doesn't matter if you only wrote it in your journal, under the covers away from prying eyes. Someone will know. I have been accused of all sorts of misunderstandings and gossip that has been fortunate enough to reach the ears of my superiors. Oh yes, there is nothing like defending yourself from accusations of leaving the country unannounced, moving off compound to shack up with someone you met casually, and of course...needing a kidney transplant. Oh yes. This little village is very busy with gossip. I am tempted to just start spreading my own rumors....at least they would be more imaginative.
I spent only 2 of the last ten days at work. Most of it was not my fault, as I only missed two days of school. We had a 5 day weekend because of Eid (a Muslim Holiday) and I was beyond greatful for it.
I really don't have any new pictures either, and cant photograph any of the cool items I bought from the market because most are Christmas presents. Oh, and Josie has not yet given me the other pictures in a format in which my computer will appreciate. Poor little Mac.
Instead, I am taking a page out of Michael Hammond's book (literally, I think he is up to Book of Michael Seven, or such) and am going to rant about the things that bother me. He is horrifyingly more elegant and eloquent but I had to return the favor and drop his name at least once. Plus, here I can vent in a public forum without being shot.
You're Welcome
This is something that all of the Nigerian people say. As soon as you walk through the door....you're welcome. As soon as you step outside, you're welcome. See, some white person ages ago must have beaten the concept of polite society and declared that welcoming everyone into your vicinity is the only thing to do. However, the tone, or I should say inflection of the phrase is much different than you and I would say. It is said as if you have been done a special favor. You see, the phrase is only used as a greeting, not as an affirmation of receiving thanks. Anytime you actually receive help? Nothing. You're welcome is only reserved for white people and only as a small talk phrase. So every time I arrive anywhere, I am told that I am welcome....for being allowed in the presence of greatness, i assume. It takes a while to get used to and is often mocked privately in my own home. Walk into a new room? You're welcome.
Horn Honking
Oh holy cow! Traffic here is an amazing, scary, and awful thing. If only words could describe the sonic sound and general panic feeling of the common commute. When you arent squishing three cars into 20 feet of road, you are stopped dead, jammed into a seemingly chaotic pile of other cars. Many times, the side mirrors on the car must be closed in as to allow enough space for the car next to us. In this environment, when construction, vendors, beggars and heat prevent motorists from communicating effectively with one another they honk. And honk, and honk. Its a way of life here. It is not out of anger, or rudeness, though it is often done with the same emotions and intents, it is mostly a warning system to other drivers and pedestrians that our car is approaching, cutting off, or generally getting into your cars way, or visa versa.
You can imagine that in a city of 15 million, the honking creates a never ending sound. All times at night and especially during traffic the honking can be overwhelming.
The single time there is not a resonating horn throughout the city is during sanitation Saturday. The fourth Saturday of every month has four hours of the morning for road and street maintenance. Blissful quiet ensues when no motor vehicles are allowed in the city during these hours. This is quite the joke, as you can see from previous posts, the roads or horrible. But the morning of relative silence is appreciated.
Tiny village syndrome
Everyone knows everything about everyone. It doesn't matter if you only wrote it in your journal, under the covers away from prying eyes. Someone will know. I have been accused of all sorts of misunderstandings and gossip that has been fortunate enough to reach the ears of my superiors. Oh yes, there is nothing like defending yourself from accusations of leaving the country unannounced, moving off compound to shack up with someone you met casually, and of course...needing a kidney transplant. Oh yes. This little village is very busy with gossip. I am tempted to just start spreading my own rumors....at least they would be more imaginative.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Nigerian Cultural Day
The school celebrated Nigerian Culture Day in celebration of the 47th Independence Day for Nigeria. Every teacher, student, parent and worker has to dress in traditional Nigerian dress and the entire school day is dedicated to learning about and participating in different cultural activities.
These are a few of my students posing for the camera in their traditional dress. Notice that it’s mostly the type of fabric used and not necessarily the pattern for the majority of the school.
I spent most of the day in my room teaching clay mini courses. The classes I had created Ibo Spirit Masks and Shrine Figures.
This is one of my example masks. They are actually celebrated in Ibo culture as spirits. Since the Ibo culture believes in reincarnation, these figures are very mysterious and not to be mocked. My students unfortunately only had 30 minutes to create theirs, and so the results were less than fantastic but everyone seemed to have a good time anyway.
When I was allowed to escape, I was able to take some great shots of the 'village' built in the courtyard and some of my fellow teachers in their outfits.
In the middle of the school courtyard a mock Ibo village was made. The workers started late in the afternoon the day before and built everything from scratch.
During the actual culture day, the entire school gathered around the courtyard and watched traditional dance, a day in the life of a village and distinguished speakers from the community.
The school band played Nigerian music and the National Anthem. I had no idea so many of the kids would know all the words and be able to belt them all out like they did. Then Josie burst my bubble and said that the kids had probably been practicing in music. It was still an impressive sight. This is a particularly bad angle but the only one I could get in my spot...three stories up.
In the middle of the village was the goat in the tiny little shed. This however is inaccurate since it’s evident around the city that goats roam free. It’s hard to see, but this goat also shared with two chickens. Also a falsehood, if the city of Lagos is to be believed. The livestock in the city is as free as Wyoming. For free range meat, it aint all that good. And yes, that does mean I have eaten goat. Not bad, but tough as all get out. Speaking of killing livestock, part of the traditional Ibo war dance involved throwing a live chicken around all over. Kids were bawling as they saw this tied chicken being flung into the air and plummeting down, smacking into whatever it landed on. I am pretty sure the chicken was to die anyway, but the broken wings, flying feathers and pitiful squawks make for a telltale memory.
A ton of adults showed up for the event as well. Most just mingled around and got in the way. I actually got really upset when one of my students had to baby-sit her 2-year-old sister in my class because her mom left to shop at the mock Lekki Market that the school set up for the kids. Yeah, she left her daughter to baby-sit in class while she took advantage of the deals. Sick. But it’s the yuppie culture here among the expats.
Unfortunately, my camera died about an hour into the day. However, Josie, my amazing assistant for the day, was able to capture the rest on her camera.
I will post more pictures when Josie gets them to me. There are some awesome pics of dancing, re-enactments and more gorgeous pictures of me! But you are going to have to wait until the sequel.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
A full month in Africa!
After a full month in Africa, my life has begun to settle down. I am in my own flat, and though I dont yet have a steward, I keep getting asked out to do things. So my food situation is just fine. Classes are all fabulous!
I have yet to find a project that these kids wont do and be excited about. Sixth grade is making cartoon strips, 7-8 grade are creating monsters and I am planning a bead making class for Nigerian Culture Day. My art club is meeting twice a week to plan out and decorate my room to look like an Ibo village.
The other day, as I was walking out of the flat, I noticed a leaf stuck in a spider web on the wall. I was about to pass when I paused. I knew that the spider webs here are not strong enough to hold a leaf the size of this one. I moved closer and still just stared at it.
Unfortunately, my vision isnt the greatest and it took me a couple more feet closer and a few minutes of staring to realize I was looking at a praying mantis. I whipped out my camera and took a few shots. When the flash went off, the little guy turned and looked at me; then blinked. So much attitude in such a little gesture.
Another teacher and I are planning on creating our own children's books. I am excited, because while I can draw anything....I cant come up with stories. Pagia, however, has the opposite problem. We are hoping to have at least two done by Christmas, so that they can be printed and distributed to students for a present. I am not sure how to manage that, unless its printed via email to the US and I pick it up when I get home.
I had a small accident yesterday morning when I dropped my macbook onto my foot. It still stings something awful and is very pretty colors. Its so massive that I could even make kids draw it to learn their color wheel.
I have yet to find a project that these kids wont do and be excited about. Sixth grade is making cartoon strips, 7-8 grade are creating monsters and I am planning a bead making class for Nigerian Culture Day. My art club is meeting twice a week to plan out and decorate my room to look like an Ibo village.
The other day, as I was walking out of the flat, I noticed a leaf stuck in a spider web on the wall. I was about to pass when I paused. I knew that the spider webs here are not strong enough to hold a leaf the size of this one. I moved closer and still just stared at it.
Unfortunately, my vision isnt the greatest and it took me a couple more feet closer and a few minutes of staring to realize I was looking at a praying mantis. I whipped out my camera and took a few shots. When the flash went off, the little guy turned and looked at me; then blinked. So much attitude in such a little gesture.
Another teacher and I are planning on creating our own children's books. I am excited, because while I can draw anything....I cant come up with stories. Pagia, however, has the opposite problem. We are hoping to have at least two done by Christmas, so that they can be printed and distributed to students for a present. I am not sure how to manage that, unless its printed via email to the US and I pick it up when I get home.
I had a small accident yesterday morning when I dropped my macbook onto my foot. It still stings something awful and is very pretty colors. Its so massive that I could even make kids draw it to learn their color wheel.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Finally, my own flat!
After being homeless for a month, living through a high school's worth of drama and flighty emotions, and enduring massive confusion, I have been offered my very own flat. Yes, this barren wasteland is mine.
It took me two days to clean it and, sadly enough, only about an hour to unpack all I own. I am priding myself on having no bugs anywhere. Seriously have an aversion thing going with bugs. So I spent a ton of time cleaning, spraying for bugs and generally being OCD about watching out for any potential hiding places. I thought I was doing good. Then I saw a cockroach disappear into the floor crack by the bathtub last night. It now has an amazing amount of highly fragrant bug spray surrounding the entire area. He is either already dead or close to it.
I am all moved in, but have nothing to put on the walls, watch my non-existing cable (we keep hearing that the installation is only a week away...for three weeks now), or cook my imaginary food in. I hope to go shopping with Roy and Josie this weekend to buy the most immediate needs.
We all know I will find great satisfaction in decorating the walls and space, especially since I was planning on doing that anyway.
It took me two days to clean it and, sadly enough, only about an hour to unpack all I own. I am priding myself on having no bugs anywhere. Seriously have an aversion thing going with bugs. So I spent a ton of time cleaning, spraying for bugs and generally being OCD about watching out for any potential hiding places. I thought I was doing good. Then I saw a cockroach disappear into the floor crack by the bathtub last night. It now has an amazing amount of highly fragrant bug spray surrounding the entire area. He is either already dead or close to it.
I am all moved in, but have nothing to put on the walls, watch my non-existing cable (we keep hearing that the installation is only a week away...for three weeks now), or cook my imaginary food in. I hope to go shopping with Roy and Josie this weekend to buy the most immediate needs.
We all know I will find great satisfaction in decorating the walls and space, especially since I was planning on doing that anyway.
Advances Art Project Pictures
While my personal life may have been a bit rocky these past weeks, my job is fantastic. I get to work with 70-odd students who are interesting and for the most part, respectful. I get to mess with them, joke with them, use sarcasm and be strict all in five minutes. Its always an amazing roller coaster and I look forward to coming to work each day. I decided to take some pictures of some of my advanced class and their artwork so I can show you all how and what I am doing at work.
The last project was to draw a piece of popcorn using only shading. Then to visually separate that piece of popcorn, creating another subject matter from the same shape. As promised to my class, I never assign a project that I wont do. So this example is the one I did in the same time period as my students. I think I was outclassed in some cases. My students did brilliantly.
I am really excited about the current project called, Elements. Its a real challenge and while most of my students are grumbling about the difficulty, all are coming up with deep and meaningful symbols, pictures, and personal references for the four elements. They are required to personify fire, water, earth, and wind in a visual representation. I really like some of the ideas being produced right now. Soon, I will push them even farther by involving cultural, humanistic and interpersonal story lines and let them create from there.
The last project was to draw a piece of popcorn using only shading. Then to visually separate that piece of popcorn, creating another subject matter from the same shape. As promised to my class, I never assign a project that I wont do. So this example is the one I did in the same time period as my students. I think I was outclassed in some cases. My students did brilliantly.
I am really excited about the current project called, Elements. Its a real challenge and while most of my students are grumbling about the difficulty, all are coming up with deep and meaningful symbols, pictures, and personal references for the four elements. They are required to personify fire, water, earth, and wind in a visual representation. I really like some of the ideas being produced right now. Soon, I will push them even farther by involving cultural, humanistic and interpersonal story lines and let them create from there.
Monday, September 3, 2007
The journey to church
The journey to church is hazardous and slightly entertaining. It is no small feat to traverse the scarred and beaten lands on a holy mission....wait....forget that. It’s just a weird trip, ok? I decided to walk you all through it, and have added multiple pictures to appease my mother and her bragging tendencies.
Church starts at 9am, which means we leave at 7am. Why? Because traffic is unpredictable and the roads are even worse.
I took these series of pictures on the way to church the Sunday before last. This particular one is an Okada; A motorcycle turned taxi. I have seen as many as four people on one scooter, not including children.
These taxis are amazing and scary. Very often they come within scant inches of the car and are very....vocal...about their desire to move in front of your vehicle and what they think about you, your family, and your awebo skin as they squeeze into impossible places between cars. Yes, I do know naughty words in three different Nigerian dialects, thank you.
The worst part of the trip is by far the actual road that the church is on. It’s a massive pothole infestation. Technically, I don’t think its even is a road anymore; its more like separate little communities of canyons and lakes. On the sides of the roads are piles of garbage.
These piles will continue to grow until finally they will be lit on fire to make room for more piles. The best is when the chickens roam aimlessly over the rotting heaps in search of food. These holes are at least a foot deep and usually larger than the car that we are in.
On the way to church there are exciting venues to see. Such as the Okada station, where men of all ages and, um, hygiene levels, gossip and fix their scooters. Among others are such gems as this....the local electronics store.
Of course, there are many very large buildings that appear empty. Please do not be fooled. Many have huge signs such as this one, warning that this prime real estate is definitely NOT for sale.
This beauty of a market is the meat market. No, Mom, they don’t refrigerate their meat. In fact, I couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what kind of meat this is. The sellers are lovely and are very kind, but I don’t think I will be purchasing my meat from this market any time soon.
Getting closer to the actual church are scary little alleyways that lead down to the slums of Lekki. I was either too afraid or too sensitive to photograph the Nigerian people living in this type of squalor but I can paint a picture clearly enough to satisfy the craving for visual imagery. The one lane road is paved in cobblestones and around 7-10 feet wide. On either side of the lane are two feet deep ditches for all sewer related functions. There is no water flow and so the ditches stay stagnant with their excrement and food wastes. In the monsoons, all of the ditches flood into the streets and houses. You can see why malaria is so prevalent in this environment. Next to the ditches are the plywood lean-tos that make up the entire housing communities. There is one community faucet for contaminated water, which the residents carry buckets to go and fetch water. There is no power and no privacy. Since the unemployment rate of Lagos is around 70%, there are also always people milling about.
When we finally arrive at the church building I am exhausted from the drive over. I am not the one driving, mind you, but the rollercoaster ride combined with the heart wrenching poverty is enough to make me want to crawl back into bed and forget how unequal my situation is to theirs and how much I never want to be in their situation. I always feel selfish and gluttonous after the trip to church.
But the church is not a vacation spot itself. The building is an old empty house that is rented. It has no power or water and the doors are always open to create the illusion of a non-existent wind. I get the worst bug bites when I am at sacrament meeting.
This is the outside of the church wall. It’s a non-descript building on a side street leading to nothing.
After you enter through the front gate, the building looks impressive. It would most likely be lovely if it had been maintained.
Stepping inside you have rows of chairs facing the front window. This is our sacrament room. The podium does have a microphone but since the generator does not work and Nigerians are soft spoken by nature, I usually make up my own services. They are entertaining and help take my mind off of the heat and bugs. One huge benefit is the fans that are sold at Lekki market. They are made of light straw and are huge. More than enough oomph to keep a breeze on your face, at least.
My favorite part of the church, however, is the font outside in the back yard. There is no grass, just dirt outside of the door until the wall surrounding the entire property. I found a certain irony in the razor wire on the decrepit wall on the other side of an otherwise beautiful font. (I also quickly found the difference between razor wire and barbed wire....there are definite gruesome characteristics to razor wire)
At the end of church services at around 12:10 pm, I am hot, aggravated and ready to go home. Unfortunately, the friends that I catch a ride with have meetings and commitments at the church until around 1:15. This is the painful time when single Nigerian men find it expedient to hit on me. I know I am not special, or charming or even particularly dazzling in looks....but you wouldn’t know it by the attention I receive between 12:10 and 1:15 on Sunday afternoons. It would be flattering if the men in question weren’t so aggressive. Instead, I begin to feel dirty on the inside as well as the outside. (Especially after that 3-year old boy peed on me my second Sunday, but that is a different story altogether and could take an entire blog to explain)
So the moral of the story is to be patient, thankful and to wear a wedding ring all the time.
Church starts at 9am, which means we leave at 7am. Why? Because traffic is unpredictable and the roads are even worse.
I took these series of pictures on the way to church the Sunday before last. This particular one is an Okada; A motorcycle turned taxi. I have seen as many as four people on one scooter, not including children.
These taxis are amazing and scary. Very often they come within scant inches of the car and are very....vocal...about their desire to move in front of your vehicle and what they think about you, your family, and your awebo skin as they squeeze into impossible places between cars. Yes, I do know naughty words in three different Nigerian dialects, thank you.
The worst part of the trip is by far the actual road that the church is on. It’s a massive pothole infestation. Technically, I don’t think its even is a road anymore; its more like separate little communities of canyons and lakes. On the sides of the roads are piles of garbage.
These piles will continue to grow until finally they will be lit on fire to make room for more piles. The best is when the chickens roam aimlessly over the rotting heaps in search of food. These holes are at least a foot deep and usually larger than the car that we are in.
On the way to church there are exciting venues to see. Such as the Okada station, where men of all ages and, um, hygiene levels, gossip and fix their scooters. Among others are such gems as this....the local electronics store.
Of course, there are many very large buildings that appear empty. Please do not be fooled. Many have huge signs such as this one, warning that this prime real estate is definitely NOT for sale.
This beauty of a market is the meat market. No, Mom, they don’t refrigerate their meat. In fact, I couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what kind of meat this is. The sellers are lovely and are very kind, but I don’t think I will be purchasing my meat from this market any time soon.
Getting closer to the actual church are scary little alleyways that lead down to the slums of Lekki. I was either too afraid or too sensitive to photograph the Nigerian people living in this type of squalor but I can paint a picture clearly enough to satisfy the craving for visual imagery. The one lane road is paved in cobblestones and around 7-10 feet wide. On either side of the lane are two feet deep ditches for all sewer related functions. There is no water flow and so the ditches stay stagnant with their excrement and food wastes. In the monsoons, all of the ditches flood into the streets and houses. You can see why malaria is so prevalent in this environment. Next to the ditches are the plywood lean-tos that make up the entire housing communities. There is one community faucet for contaminated water, which the residents carry buckets to go and fetch water. There is no power and no privacy. Since the unemployment rate of Lagos is around 70%, there are also always people milling about.
When we finally arrive at the church building I am exhausted from the drive over. I am not the one driving, mind you, but the rollercoaster ride combined with the heart wrenching poverty is enough to make me want to crawl back into bed and forget how unequal my situation is to theirs and how much I never want to be in their situation. I always feel selfish and gluttonous after the trip to church.
But the church is not a vacation spot itself. The building is an old empty house that is rented. It has no power or water and the doors are always open to create the illusion of a non-existent wind. I get the worst bug bites when I am at sacrament meeting.
This is the outside of the church wall. It’s a non-descript building on a side street leading to nothing.
After you enter through the front gate, the building looks impressive. It would most likely be lovely if it had been maintained.
Stepping inside you have rows of chairs facing the front window. This is our sacrament room. The podium does have a microphone but since the generator does not work and Nigerians are soft spoken by nature, I usually make up my own services. They are entertaining and help take my mind off of the heat and bugs. One huge benefit is the fans that are sold at Lekki market. They are made of light straw and are huge. More than enough oomph to keep a breeze on your face, at least.
My favorite part of the church, however, is the font outside in the back yard. There is no grass, just dirt outside of the door until the wall surrounding the entire property. I found a certain irony in the razor wire on the decrepit wall on the other side of an otherwise beautiful font. (I also quickly found the difference between razor wire and barbed wire....there are definite gruesome characteristics to razor wire)
At the end of church services at around 12:10 pm, I am hot, aggravated and ready to go home. Unfortunately, the friends that I catch a ride with have meetings and commitments at the church until around 1:15. This is the painful time when single Nigerian men find it expedient to hit on me. I know I am not special, or charming or even particularly dazzling in looks....but you wouldn’t know it by the attention I receive between 12:10 and 1:15 on Sunday afternoons. It would be flattering if the men in question weren’t so aggressive. Instead, I begin to feel dirty on the inside as well as the outside. (Especially after that 3-year old boy peed on me my second Sunday, but that is a different story altogether and could take an entire blog to explain)
So the moral of the story is to be patient, thankful and to wear a wedding ring all the time.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
I want a hug
This week has been really hard....my roof falling in, no flat yet, all sorts of new and really time-consuming work. It’s just overwhelming. But let me start from the beginning. Buckle up, little campers, its time for 'Julia's venting session.'
When I was hired, I was promised the spectacular advantages of a new high school. My own room, designed and supplied by myself was one of the main perks to accepting the job. Now, however, the high school won’t be finished for another year and a half. Which means that not only will we have more kids to teach next year, but also we will be forced to do it with less space and time. Excuse? There really is no reason for the delay. In fact, they haven’t even broken ground on the 40-acre campus. Their plan is to move all the high school people to the flats in the new school first, before the school is finished. Which means, of course, that we will need to commute from the new flats to the current school and back each day. Without traffic, the commute is 20 minutes. With traffic it can take 5 hours and yes, we will be hitting rush hour each
way.
In order to alleviate the current housing crunch (I am homeless and another teacher is supposed to be living alone, but has no apartment available), off campus housing is being sought. This all could have been handled last June, but I digress.
The school board went to see apartments today and the results were laughable. No security, unfinished and unfurnished. It is also in the middle of nowhere and would take up to a month to finish anyway. I don’t want to sleep on a couch for a month.
Then, Carrie, who is supposed to be my roommate, is trying to write a contract for her steward (who is amazingly expensive) but wont know whether to include me in it or not. She is stressed about it and I am feeling like nothing but a huge inconvenience.
The secretary of finances pulled me aside yesterday and explained that I was being demoted two full steps on the pay schedule because she and Tom had a conversation about reconfiguring the credit allowance in schools. Unfortunately, I may have no recourse since they still have not let me sign a contract. You can see how this situation could become very negative. The school flies you out here, without a contract, and then you may have to settle with whatever they hand you because you are already here. I know that the administration isn’t intending to make it this way, but you and I can see how easily corruptible this system is.
My room still isn’t fixed, although I did get this spectacular banner outside my door.
Look on the bright side, right? I have also been told that I am now in charge of creating an entire curriculum, supplies, room and schedule for 9-12 grades for a meeting in November. The job is huge and no one can tell me anything until I go to the week long training sometime next year. They will continue to expect the information in November, however.
I also keep getting volunteered for committees but not told about it. I am apparently on the 'flat committee’, which is created to buy and furnish old or unmatching furniture for each of the flats. It’s a nice interior decorating opportunity. I am boycotting that one until I get my own freaking flat.
Then there are the after school clubs, fun days, and registrations that I am told about the day before or even the hour before I am meant to direct something.
So the stress is starting to trigger my next episode of health concerns, which are always aggravated by stress. This current bout is gaining enough strength to be a disaster in the making. I just keeping making it worse because I know it am all in my head and so now I feel weak and pathetic on top of it all.
I know I will survive. Things will work out and get better. It’s hard is all.
I keep trying to stay optimistic by going down to the kindergarten classroom. Aren’t these little buggers cute?!
And then there are my two advanced classes, which show amazing potential.
When I was hired, I was promised the spectacular advantages of a new high school. My own room, designed and supplied by myself was one of the main perks to accepting the job. Now, however, the high school won’t be finished for another year and a half. Which means that not only will we have more kids to teach next year, but also we will be forced to do it with less space and time. Excuse? There really is no reason for the delay. In fact, they haven’t even broken ground on the 40-acre campus. Their plan is to move all the high school people to the flats in the new school first, before the school is finished. Which means, of course, that we will need to commute from the new flats to the current school and back each day. Without traffic, the commute is 20 minutes. With traffic it can take 5 hours and yes, we will be hitting rush hour each
way.
In order to alleviate the current housing crunch (I am homeless and another teacher is supposed to be living alone, but has no apartment available), off campus housing is being sought. This all could have been handled last June, but I digress.
The school board went to see apartments today and the results were laughable. No security, unfinished and unfurnished. It is also in the middle of nowhere and would take up to a month to finish anyway. I don’t want to sleep on a couch for a month.
Then, Carrie, who is supposed to be my roommate, is trying to write a contract for her steward (who is amazingly expensive) but wont know whether to include me in it or not. She is stressed about it and I am feeling like nothing but a huge inconvenience.
The secretary of finances pulled me aside yesterday and explained that I was being demoted two full steps on the pay schedule because she and Tom had a conversation about reconfiguring the credit allowance in schools. Unfortunately, I may have no recourse since they still have not let me sign a contract. You can see how this situation could become very negative. The school flies you out here, without a contract, and then you may have to settle with whatever they hand you because you are already here. I know that the administration isn’t intending to make it this way, but you and I can see how easily corruptible this system is.
My room still isn’t fixed, although I did get this spectacular banner outside my door.
Look on the bright side, right? I have also been told that I am now in charge of creating an entire curriculum, supplies, room and schedule for 9-12 grades for a meeting in November. The job is huge and no one can tell me anything until I go to the week long training sometime next year. They will continue to expect the information in November, however.
I also keep getting volunteered for committees but not told about it. I am apparently on the 'flat committee’, which is created to buy and furnish old or unmatching furniture for each of the flats. It’s a nice interior decorating opportunity. I am boycotting that one until I get my own freaking flat.
Then there are the after school clubs, fun days, and registrations that I am told about the day before or even the hour before I am meant to direct something.
So the stress is starting to trigger my next episode of health concerns, which are always aggravated by stress. This current bout is gaining enough strength to be a disaster in the making. I just keeping making it worse because I know it am all in my head and so now I feel weak and pathetic on top of it all.
I know I will survive. Things will work out and get better. It’s hard is all.
I keep trying to stay optimistic by going down to the kindergarten classroom. Aren’t these little buggers cute?!
And then there are my two advanced classes, which show amazing potential.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The Tower
So my classroom is a ghetto pile. In fact, I even refer to it as The Tower (as in the Tower of London). In fact, all day today had an overwhelming stench of bug spray because I complained of the 3.5 inch cockroaches....while the kids complained at first....strangely after about fifteen minutes they were all giggles.
But back to the room itself. It has nasty blue carpet that is pieced together but not stretched or nailed down. I have puke yellow book cabinets, which offset the shaded blue cupboards nicely, note sarcasm here. The walls are barren because they are solid cinderblocks and impossible to hang anything from. None of the cupboards close and everything has a dirty old apartment look to them. However, the greatest disaster of the room is the ceiling. Giant tiles around 4 feet by 3.5 feet make up the majority of the ceiling with dangling florescent bulbs.
When I first saw the room three weeks ago, I asked maintenance to fix the dangerously hanging water damaged ceiling tiles in the middle of the room. The response (as evident the next morning) was to simply remove the offending tiles and let the cement; insulation and bending pipes hang for all to see. The tile, of course, was not removed from the room but placed in the middle of the floor. Since that time I have added three more written requests as well as several mentions to both the superintendent and my principle....who also put in written requests.
To make a long story more interesting, today in third period art class a large chunk of cement and insulation finally gave way and came crashing down. Incredibly, the one seat and section that the materials fell on was uncharacteristically empty. No one was hurt. I was freaked out (though no students could tell...oh yeah, I totally did the "Shake it off" bit) and had to notify maintenance right away. I then had to evacuate the area and move all of my kids around. Then I had to find a place to have class for the rest of the day. Library ended up being booked and we have a shortage of classes anyway. So I went and pleaded my case to the elementary art teacher (who is wonderful) if I could use that incredible art room which I first thought was mine. So with 23 junior high kids on one side of the room and 21 third graders on the other, we taught our lessons.
The maintenance guys were able to tack the tile back up to the ceiling but I have no confidence in the environment anymore. Yeah, I am demanding an entire new roof and asking for the carpet to be replaced with tile while I am at it. I expect it will move like molasses but at least I have something to look forward to.
I already convinced my principle to let me have the kids paint all of the walls and cupboards. I think I will go with a universal jungle/water/space theme. Hopefully, by Christmas the room will look respectable. I can’t say the same for my kids' artwork...but one thing at a time. Got to focus on the priorities.
But back to the room itself. It has nasty blue carpet that is pieced together but not stretched or nailed down. I have puke yellow book cabinets, which offset the shaded blue cupboards nicely, note sarcasm here. The walls are barren because they are solid cinderblocks and impossible to hang anything from. None of the cupboards close and everything has a dirty old apartment look to them. However, the greatest disaster of the room is the ceiling. Giant tiles around 4 feet by 3.5 feet make up the majority of the ceiling with dangling florescent bulbs.
When I first saw the room three weeks ago, I asked maintenance to fix the dangerously hanging water damaged ceiling tiles in the middle of the room. The response (as evident the next morning) was to simply remove the offending tiles and let the cement; insulation and bending pipes hang for all to see. The tile, of course, was not removed from the room but placed in the middle of the floor. Since that time I have added three more written requests as well as several mentions to both the superintendent and my principle....who also put in written requests.
To make a long story more interesting, today in third period art class a large chunk of cement and insulation finally gave way and came crashing down. Incredibly, the one seat and section that the materials fell on was uncharacteristically empty. No one was hurt. I was freaked out (though no students could tell...oh yeah, I totally did the "Shake it off" bit) and had to notify maintenance right away. I then had to evacuate the area and move all of my kids around. Then I had to find a place to have class for the rest of the day. Library ended up being booked and we have a shortage of classes anyway. So I went and pleaded my case to the elementary art teacher (who is wonderful) if I could use that incredible art room which I first thought was mine. So with 23 junior high kids on one side of the room and 21 third graders on the other, we taught our lessons.
The maintenance guys were able to tack the tile back up to the ceiling but I have no confidence in the environment anymore. Yeah, I am demanding an entire new roof and asking for the carpet to be replaced with tile while I am at it. I expect it will move like molasses but at least I have something to look forward to.
I already convinced my principle to let me have the kids paint all of the walls and cupboards. I think I will go with a universal jungle/water/space theme. Hopefully, by Christmas the room will look respectable. I can’t say the same for my kids' artwork...but one thing at a time. Got to focus on the priorities.
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