Adjusting to Lagos

Ah, yes, the terrifying aspects of Africa. Having been here a week has afforded me the opportunities to experience the fantastic and creepy happenings of Nigeria. This, for example is a common scene of electronic wizardry.

Is it any wonder that we loose power at least 3 times a day?

I have been to the GQ twice and it’s nice to have a place to go where everyone is from the US. The GQ is a commissary for US residents only. When I had first heard about people who only wanted to associate with other Americans when in foreign posts, I mocked them for their insecurities. However, the more I live as the foreign minority the more I realize how nice it is to spend time with people who grew up eating the same food, speaking the same slang and who had cravings for the same comforts. Last night at the GQ was Tex-Mex buffet night. The place was packed! It was so much fun to sit with people whom you would never normally feel a connection with and be able to speak uncensored. As far as the terrifying aspects.....traffic here is something out of a sci-fi movie. Garbage, street peddlers and kudukos, or motorcycle taxis, are the most common things here. This is a picture of Bar Beach, which is a common beach with a booming commerce of black market supplies. There is a lot of garbage everywhere and even the police have learned to steer clear.





Then there is the road construction. This is a shot of the busy main street that we were driving on a couple of blocks from the school. If you notice, we are heading directly into the oncoming vehicle.
Amazingly, this didn’t even slow down our driver, or the two kudukos riding on either side of us. It got to a certain point when I just shut my eyes and start to pray.

Meanwhile, back at home, I was moved into a different flat to accommodate a guest teacher. I wasn’t asked, or even told....I was called ten minutes before hand as a courtesy to see if I was packed yet. The communication is still a little rough around the edges here at AISL. Now I am back in the original flat, where I get to stay until its owners return to Lagos. I have yet to find a permanent home.

School was a huge embarrassment. I was given keys and a room number and assumed it was mine. It was an art room, large, spacious and fully stocked. It may not have had all the materials I needed but it has two pottery wheels, two kilns and more storage than I can fill. I worked for nearly a week to figure out how to clean, organize and plan for my first day. Yes, this room is beautiful. It’s also not my room. Its the elementary school teacher's.
Yesterday, a very nice teaching assistant named Andrew was sitting and organizing what I thought was my own room. He quickly corrected me and directed me to a room a fifth of the size, with no storage space and carpeted floors. In fact, the only way I knew it wasn’t a utility room was the sink in the back and the white board in front. There was also a freighter of unopened supplies sitting in the middle. To make a very long story short, it took until today to clean, organize and settle the new room. Good thing too, cause school starts on Monday. I also have no curriculum. That’s right, boys and girls. The last art teacher bought a full set of art books straight from the catalogue and called it good. So not only did I have to spend the past week fixing my room, but also writing the entire course syllabus for all four courses, creating a homework scale for the next week and creating a curriculum for each class. Hey, it’s my job right?

Oh, and I think Swampy might just have to die. Annoying little piece of...