The nationwide strike protesting the removal of a popular fuel subsidy as well as government corruption and ineptitude has lasted five days. Labor unions called for a weekend rest from the sometimes massive street protests while they continue to negotiate with the government. Banks and many businesses and schools remain closed. Some protests have turned violent and it's unclear whether or not the long simmering frustration and outrage have taken on a life of their own and may now be evolving into something as bold as an African Spring – a revolution that demands Nigeria's government and leaders start to answer to the people who elected them. (Assuming elections were fair and free!)
Oil workers in the south have threatened to join the strike on Sunday if a negotiation is not reached and say they will turn off the supply of crude oil, although reports are mixed as to whether or not, in this age of automation, they are actually able to follow through on their threats. Labor is also saying that a failure in negotiations will bring on a “mother of all strikes” on Monday.
This period of deep unsettledness is why our children's school is not reopening until January 18 at the earliest. Plateau State has remained calm; labor agreed to refrain from protests as the state is under some kind of State of Emergency. While banks and some businesses are closed, life looks somewhat normal even while everyone is distracted and worried about national events that will affect everyone.
All of us were bummed when we heard that school would not reopen, first on January 11 and then on January 16. This is the third January in a row that school has been disrupted. Administration was more proactive this year and sent home packets of work encouraging children to continue to learn, so Mark and I take turns staying home to supervise, answer questions and keep Greg focused. Val is old enough to do her own work.
This changes our work schedule and routines and after more than a month since school broke for the Christmas holiday we're tired of it. We hope we can get through this school year well, especially for Valerie who loves every minute of 8th grade and time with her friends and for whom a good ending is important. Even Greg, who is not having the greatest school year is starting to ask when classes are going to resume. While we support a people movement to demand government cleanup and a better life for Nigerians, it's still hard not knowing when this will end or stabilize enough to allow normalcy to return. Both the strike and constant violent attacks by a group called Boko Haram (mostly in other parts of the country right now) are destabilizing and creating worry and pessimism among even those who are perennially optimistic.
I am hesitant to share my frustration and worries in this blog as they seem petty compared to the plight of the average Nigerian and to our Nigerian colleagues and friends. But this blog loses vibrancy if all I ever write about is sanitized and less than honest.
Nigeria's full-time MCC employees are reimbursed for their actual transportation costs to work, and receive regular pay increases and cost of living adjustments. So they will fare less badly than Nigerians on fixed incomes who suddenly have to spend much, much more money on driving or cooking fuel, public transportation, food and other commodities. There is just no way any ordinary Nigerian is going to do better for a while, even if the government makes good on every promise and starts to build the infrastructure and provide the services it says it will. Such hardship is difficult to watch.
So we all wait and wonder and pray and try to create different but comforting home and work routines as best we can. We're enjoying time with friends. We reassure our children that school will eventually start. And yes, these times do increase our readiness to return to the states even though that move will bring plenty of destabilization as well.
And today, thinking of our return to Central New York later this year, I have to say that I do hereby promise never to grumble very loudly about anything as innocuous as a simple snow day school cancellation ever again. Honest.
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
January 2012 Update
We are back in the office after two weeks off. We had a good time, first hosting our supervisor and his family for a few days over Christmas and then traveling to Abuja for four days of urban fun. It was a good break – swimming, movies, relaxed times with some friends, and also a wonderful new café with GREAT java - but Abuja is obscenely expensive and the security situation makes everything feel a little tense. I mean, when was the last time you had a soldier - in bullet proof vest and helmet, finger on the trigger of his gun - ask you to open your car trunk at a checkpoint?
Sadly, we need to adjust to this kind of reality here. I don’t like it, but I no longer feel my heartbeat accelerate when I see soldiers who look ready for combat on the streets of Jos or Abuja. They are supposed to be protecting us all and for that I do feel some gratitude. It’s just not solving anything long-term.
The weeks ahead are plenty busy but several issues are making life uncertain (again!). A bombing at a packed Catholic Church near Abuja on Christmas Day, killing more than 40 persons and injuring many more, has led to increased tension which tends to take on religious tones. The president has also put parts of Plateau and other states under a State of Emergency in an apparent effort to deal more forcefully with Boko Haram – the Islamic militant group allegedly behind many recent attacks. We are not sure that a State of Emergency changes life for us but more soldiers than ever patrol Jos.
Then on Sunday, the president also announced the end of a longstanding fuel subsidy in Nigeria. For almost 40 years, the government has subsidized the cost of fuel, making it quite cheap here (about $1.60 a gallon). Nigeria, the tenth largest producer of crude oil, has no workable refineries and sends its oil out of then country and then imports refined fuel. To make a long story short, Nigerians may understand, in theory, that the subsidy eventually has to end, but they see it as the only tangible way they get a piece of the country’s immense oil wealth. So they are VERY upset by its ending. Indeed, the cost of gas at the filling station more than doubled in a day as did the cost of using public transportation. While things may stabilize and maybe the government will use the money, as promised, for infrastructure improvements, for now people are feeling the pinch and they do not trust a government notorious for its corruption. If you live on just a few dollars a day and your transportation cost to get to work or the market just doubled then you know some other necessity is going to have to go. Unfortunately many Nigerians are already on the edge and don’t have extra money sitting around.
So, there is talk of a massive nation-wide strike soon to protest – not sure if that will actually happen but of course it means that planning for anything is difficult while we wait and see what the labor unions decide. We also hope that violence will not be part of any potential protests.
On a daily basis we feel safe and are going about our business. We hope the kids’ school starts next Wednesday. If you see news on these issues, know that for now we are fine and are keeping an eye on the situation. Your prayers are always welcome, especially for the people of Nigeria.
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
Sadly, we need to adjust to this kind of reality here. I don’t like it, but I no longer feel my heartbeat accelerate when I see soldiers who look ready for combat on the streets of Jos or Abuja. They are supposed to be protecting us all and for that I do feel some gratitude. It’s just not solving anything long-term.
The weeks ahead are plenty busy but several issues are making life uncertain (again!). A bombing at a packed Catholic Church near Abuja on Christmas Day, killing more than 40 persons and injuring many more, has led to increased tension which tends to take on religious tones. The president has also put parts of Plateau and other states under a State of Emergency in an apparent effort to deal more forcefully with Boko Haram – the Islamic militant group allegedly behind many recent attacks. We are not sure that a State of Emergency changes life for us but more soldiers than ever patrol Jos.
Then on Sunday, the president also announced the end of a longstanding fuel subsidy in Nigeria. For almost 40 years, the government has subsidized the cost of fuel, making it quite cheap here (about $1.60 a gallon). Nigeria, the tenth largest producer of crude oil, has no workable refineries and sends its oil out of then country and then imports refined fuel. To make a long story short, Nigerians may understand, in theory, that the subsidy eventually has to end, but they see it as the only tangible way they get a piece of the country’s immense oil wealth. So they are VERY upset by its ending. Indeed, the cost of gas at the filling station more than doubled in a day as did the cost of using public transportation. While things may stabilize and maybe the government will use the money, as promised, for infrastructure improvements, for now people are feeling the pinch and they do not trust a government notorious for its corruption. If you live on just a few dollars a day and your transportation cost to get to work or the market just doubled then you know some other necessity is going to have to go. Unfortunately many Nigerians are already on the edge and don’t have extra money sitting around.
So, there is talk of a massive nation-wide strike soon to protest – not sure if that will actually happen but of course it means that planning for anything is difficult while we wait and see what the labor unions decide. We also hope that violence will not be part of any potential protests.
On a daily basis we feel safe and are going about our business. We hope the kids’ school starts next Wednesday. If you see news on these issues, know that for now we are fine and are keeping an eye on the situation. Your prayers are always welcome, especially for the people of Nigeria.
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Doing No Harm
Last month, we invited Chloe Berwind-Dart, a program manager with the Tulsi Chanrai NGO based in Abuja to facilitate training in “Do No Harm” at our annual MCC Nigeria partnership gathering. She was a terrific facilitator and used interaction between participants and role plays to help us understand the concepts.
“Do No Harm is a framework for analyzing how your work interacts with – participates in – the community where you are working with the aim of increasing positive impact and avoiding negative impact.” (from Chloe's Power Point)
During our two days together we identified questions to ask in order to better understand the complex contexts where we work.
We saw how our development or relief efforts interact with and change a context. Our work and how we do it can increase conflict if we are not aware of the context in which we have chosen to work. It can also minimize conflict and strengthen cohesion if we use a conflict-sensitivity lens. We also learned the value of identifying what divides and connects people within a community and how to start to maximize connectors and minimize dividers.
It's fascinating (and sobering) to see the work of our hands in this light along with what kind of implicit ethnical messages we send when we offer a transfer of resources – be it money, training, relief materials, capacity building, etc. - in any given community where MCC is invited to work. I think of the oft-used phrase, “Your actions speak so loud I cannot hear what you say.” It is awfully tempting to swoop in to “help,” to listen to just a few people's view (versus listening to a broad range of community members) on a community's need, history, problems and strengths and to overlook how a movement of resources into a community can increase conflict and problems.
For instance, if MCC supports the digging of a well in a community, we could inadvertently increase conflict when our hypothetical partner, without applying Do No Harm principles, locates this precious resource on the side of town where one ethnic group lives. Or we could maximize collaboration and connection among villagers when our partner decides, after listening to the entire community and carefully assessing, to locate it in a central, agreed-upon location where everyone can access the water, care for and “own” the well together. This is a somewhat simplistic example but I'm sure there are wells in Nigeria that in addition to providing a basic life necessity, have also provoked conflict!
I recommend this training for EVERYONE who interacts with others in work or volunteer or life settings. You could apply this framework at family reunions, on church committees or while doing any collaborative project that brings humans together.
May less harm may indeed be done and more collaborative, productive work occur.
For more information, google CDA Collaborative Learning Projects; their website has many free downloads. (No, my technically challenged brain hasn't figured out how to do links yet!)
For the source of the definition of Conflict Sensitivity, please refer to “Conflict-Sensitive Approaches to Development, Humanitarian Assistance and Peacebuilding: A Resource Pack” (written in 2004 and available for download at www.conflictsensitivity.org)
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
The Beginning of the "Lasts"
Many school and work activities have kept us hopping, baking, buying, participating and enjoying: an international food fair, a fourth grade chapel (with Greg writing, directing, and filming the play!), a middle school party, a craft sale, an MCC Nigeria partnership gathering and a senior class play. In the next few days we'll celebrate our last Nigerian-based American Thanksgiving and school talent night.
And it's the last time we'll watch the frangipani leaves fall to ground, the last time we 'll comment on crimson poinsettias splashing the compound with color on our November walks, the last time we'll pluck grapefruit from the tree behind our home, the last time we'll watch the pale sun rise through harmattan's gritty haze.
Next year we won't be here. This reality is accompanied by emotions as variable as grief and joy, anticipation and a disbelief that as much as living here five years has sometimes felt akin to a marathon (not that I've ever run in one!) time has also sailed by and here we are starting our endings.
I remember, in 2006, in Syracuse, thinking similar thoughts as we went through “lasts” – giving up my garden, saying goodbye to friends and family, packing up our cozy house, pulling our children from good schools. And 5 ½ years later, we prepare to return and must now mourn our Nigeria-based endings.
Sometimes I decide to actually verbalize, “This is our last time to be doing this,” which always elicits a scowl, a whine or a “Mom, stop reminding us.” from the kids, usually Val. Our children are not looking forward to the huge transition after spending a significant chunk of their childhoods in Nigeria.
I am not trying to be annoying but I know it's important, from time to time and now with increasingly frequency, to talk with our children about this year of transition, whether or not they want to. They don't have to like the reality of our returning to the USA next year; but they do have to experience it. More importantly, we'll be experiencing it together as a family. They will learn, hopefully, eventually, that every ending gives rise to the opportunity for a new beginning.
We just don't know much yet what those new beginnings – restarting life in the USA – are going to feel like, look like, be. There will likely be some rough passages but we are not stranger to those! And the unknown is scary; we have to admit we are not in control, we don't have the answers, we are vulnerable. As parents, we are keenly aware that the economy is sputtering and jobs are hard to find. Our best brave choice is to move forward believing that the major things will work out; that we'll eventually find our way there as we did here, and that friendships and faith will sustain us.
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
And it's the last time we'll watch the frangipani leaves fall to ground, the last time we 'll comment on crimson poinsettias splashing the compound with color on our November walks, the last time we'll pluck grapefruit from the tree behind our home, the last time we'll watch the pale sun rise through harmattan's gritty haze.
Next year we won't be here. This reality is accompanied by emotions as variable as grief and joy, anticipation and a disbelief that as much as living here five years has sometimes felt akin to a marathon (not that I've ever run in one!) time has also sailed by and here we are starting our endings.
I remember, in 2006, in Syracuse, thinking similar thoughts as we went through “lasts” – giving up my garden, saying goodbye to friends and family, packing up our cozy house, pulling our children from good schools. And 5 ½ years later, we prepare to return and must now mourn our Nigeria-based endings.
Sometimes I decide to actually verbalize, “This is our last time to be doing this,” which always elicits a scowl, a whine or a “Mom, stop reminding us.” from the kids, usually Val. Our children are not looking forward to the huge transition after spending a significant chunk of their childhoods in Nigeria.
I am not trying to be annoying but I know it's important, from time to time and now with increasingly frequency, to talk with our children about this year of transition, whether or not they want to. They don't have to like the reality of our returning to the USA next year; but they do have to experience it. More importantly, we'll be experiencing it together as a family. They will learn, hopefully, eventually, that every ending gives rise to the opportunity for a new beginning.
We just don't know much yet what those new beginnings – restarting life in the USA – are going to feel like, look like, be. There will likely be some rough passages but we are not stranger to those! And the unknown is scary; we have to admit we are not in control, we don't have the answers, we are vulnerable. As parents, we are keenly aware that the economy is sputtering and jobs are hard to find. Our best brave choice is to move forward believing that the major things will work out; that we'll eventually find our way there as we did here, and that friendships and faith will sustain us.
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Visas and Val's Birthday
I did not actually kiss my passport, returned to me, and now carefully locked away, but I was overjoyed and relieved to repossess it.
Our CERPACs and re-entry visas were signed several days too late for us to travel to Ethiopia, but we have everything in order now – just nowhere to go!
Val turned 13 on Saturday. In 1998 she was delivered via emergency c-section with a fist in the air and a hearty wail. We were on MCC assignment in Nigeria then too but flew to Ohio for the final trimester and birth as I was, at 36 years, of “advanced maternal age.” We returned to Nigeria when she was eight weeks old. Nigeria is in Val's heart. Okay, I'll stop reminiscing now.
Val and two other friends celebrating 13th birthdays in October planned a party starting on Friday after school with games, cake and ice cream at one home, then a trip to a downtown restaurant for pizza, followed by a sleepover with t-shirt decorating and movies at another home. I am pretty sure all eight girls - a fun-loving, smart and creative group with Canadian, Korean, American, Danish and Nigerian passports - had more than average fun and less than average sleep.
On Saturday things got even better as she opened gifts and told us we were “awesome” parents. (I wonder how long that sentiment will last.)
Then Mark took her into the office where the internet connection is steady and helped sign her up for Facebook. She's already got thirty or more “friends” and has her cell phone set up to receive all FB messages. Watching her study for a US History test while simultaneously interacting with her phone makes me question whether she'll be able to manage this new “distraction.” But since she's internally motivated to do as well as possible academically, I'll keep my mouth shut. Her dad and I also promise to refrain from writing embarrassing comments to her posts. So maybe I should end now in case she reads this blog...
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
Our CERPACs and re-entry visas were signed several days too late for us to travel to Ethiopia, but we have everything in order now – just nowhere to go!
Val turned 13 on Saturday. In 1998 she was delivered via emergency c-section with a fist in the air and a hearty wail. We were on MCC assignment in Nigeria then too but flew to Ohio for the final trimester and birth as I was, at 36 years, of “advanced maternal age.” We returned to Nigeria when she was eight weeks old. Nigeria is in Val's heart. Okay, I'll stop reminiscing now.Val and two other friends celebrating 13th birthdays in October planned a party starting on Friday after school with games, cake and ice cream at one home, then a trip to a downtown restaurant for pizza, followed by a sleepover with t-shirt decorating and movies at another home. I am pretty sure all eight girls - a fun-loving, smart and creative group with Canadian, Korean, American, Danish and Nigerian passports - had more than average fun and less than average sleep.
On Saturday things got even better as she opened gifts and told us we were “awesome” parents. (I wonder how long that sentiment will last.)
Then Mark took her into the office where the internet connection is steady and helped sign her up for Facebook. She's already got thirty or more “friends” and has her cell phone set up to receive all FB messages. Watching her study for a US History test while simultaneously interacting with her phone makes me question whether she'll be able to manage this new “distraction.” But since she's internally motivated to do as well as possible academically, I'll keep my mouth shut. Her dad and I also promise to refrain from writing embarrassing comments to her posts. So maybe I should end now in case she reads this blog...
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
Thursday, October 13, 2011
A Series of Unfortunate Events
My kids never appreciated the series of books for children with that title. They seemed to hit too closely to existential nerves, felt too forbidding and dark.
But the title perfectly fits our last week. I cannot quite call it a nightmare but our last week has been exhausting and disappointing.
Immediately after our April travel to Kenya we gave our passports to the lawyer in order to apply for new CERPACs and re-entry visas. A CERPAC allows us to legally reside in Nigeria as an “alien.” A re-entry visa allows us to return to Nigeria after travel. Since MCC Nigeria was awarded INGO (International Non-Governmental Organization) status in February, we were told this process would be easy.
Since then Mark checked in regularly with the lawyer and reminded him that we planned to travel in October. We were informed of several problems. Our file is complicated because of challenges with the quota under which we first arrived and I won't bore anyone with the details. In addition, we misplaced an expired resident card. After sorting every file, drawer and cabinet in the house, we had to acknowledge it is lost.
These glitches, we were told, flagged us as security risks. The irony in this provides comic relief to a somewhat grim situation.
Still, our lawyer assured us three weeks ago that everything was ready to go. These promises were followed by silence after which Mark would again call him only to find out there was a little problem here and there – payment needed, banks on strike, etc. etc. Still, we were being assured by our lawyer's contact in immigration that “You will not miss your flight.” and so we proceeded to plan for the week away to Ethiopia for MCC regional leadership meetings. Visas are often given at the very last minute here.
Last Friday it became clear that those plans were in serious jeopardy when by office closing we had nothing in hand but were promised “Monday.” We canceled our Monday flight and put a Wednesday flight on hold - arriving in Addis Abeba then would allow us to still attend most of the meetings. On Monday we heard nothing all day as well, but when Mark called, our lawyer checked with immigration and said he was told to pick up our ready documentation on Tuesday. He arranged to deliver everything to our supervisor's wife in Abuja; we hurriedly booked the Wednesday flight.
On Tuesday we picked Val and Greg at lunchtime for the drive to Abuja. I wish I'd read the “error message” on Greg's DS when he tried to start a game for what it now seems to be – an omen of more misfortune ahead. All Tuesday our lawyer went strangely silent – he did not respond to phone calls or texts and as we arrived on Abuja's outskirts after a four hour drive on a bad road we knew we were in trouble. Eventually we emailed our lawyer's boss and went to bed. At 1:30 a.m. Mark received a phone text that unfortunately the visas and CERPACs were not yet signed.
Yesterday we cancelled our flights - just in time to get the refund minus the cancellation fees - and returned to Jos in pouring rain.
Infuriated is a good word for how I feel. Attending regional meetings is necessary for our work and provides much needed support between colleagues, updates on what is happening within MCC in general and time for discussion, problem-solving and a little reprieve from daily life. As a mission leader there is not a lot I can share or divulge with my friends here. But CWARM is a safe spot to vent, share problems and joys, and empathize with others who do the same kind of work. So it's a real bummer to miss out. (And how am I going to stock up now on good coffee?)
But equally frustrating is not knowing where to go from here. Our file seems to be in perpetual purgatory – neither rejected nor signed and we get no straight answers on how to clear the impasse. I wonder if this lack of timely moving through the system is due to negligence, plans to frustrate, a way of letting us know we're not welcome or none of the above. Our legal status is in question without signed CERPACs, and leaving for meetings or an emergency is risky since we don't have re-entry permits to return home to Nigeria.
I want to rant and rave that we've lived here for five years and are serving as leaders of an organization whose sole purpose is to walk alongside and support indigenous NGOs and the people they serve. I wrote an imaginary letter to the Comptroller-General of Immigration pleading our case. I want to play the martyr and remind immigration that living here is not a stroll on the beach nor a way to wealth, but that we do so out of a profound and difficult-to-follow sense of call and commitment. I want to proclaim that our children love Nigeria and are great ambassadors of the good things going on here. I want to challenge them to do any computer background check they have at their disposal to disprove that we are a security risk to this country. Ah, the foolish frenzy of my little ego.
Here we are back in Jos – the kids reluctantly returned to school – Val hurriedly studying for two exams that she thought she would be taking next week. We're left with the task of working to figure out next steps.
This series of unfortunate events was peppered with small gifts. We enjoyed a brief visit in Abuja with our supervisor's spouse. Our neighbor invited us down for supper last night since she knew we wouldn't have food in the fridge. Friends have told us they are praying for us. Others have given advice on sources of professional help.
And I'm reminded that abrupt and endless disappointments are nothing new for Nigerians. Unable to rise above the fray of unfortunate experiences just because we own an American passport provides gut-wrenching reminders of life for the average Nigerian. Our guard's college has been on strike for more than a year. Banks close frequently. People die from sorely inadequate health care. Civil servants are on strike due to non payment of a promised salary increase. The government threatens to remove a fuel subsidy which could send the economy – already at a slow crawl - into a kamikaze dive.
Nigerians face many dead-ends, u-turns or “come back later”s. Their skill at handling these, their ability to shrug it off and "keep on keepin' on," as my friend Jim says, are better than mine. But I can empathize with their frustration, rage and sense of helplessness.
And I keep hoping that one day, their series of unfortunate events will be transformed into action that nonviolently works for real change, so that life in Nigeria can move forward with more hope and fewer error messages.
In the meantime, we're healthy, blessed with friendship and sympathy and willing to drink tea if we can't get coffee.
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
But the title perfectly fits our last week. I cannot quite call it a nightmare but our last week has been exhausting and disappointing.
Immediately after our April travel to Kenya we gave our passports to the lawyer in order to apply for new CERPACs and re-entry visas. A CERPAC allows us to legally reside in Nigeria as an “alien.” A re-entry visa allows us to return to Nigeria after travel. Since MCC Nigeria was awarded INGO (International Non-Governmental Organization) status in February, we were told this process would be easy.
Since then Mark checked in regularly with the lawyer and reminded him that we planned to travel in October. We were informed of several problems. Our file is complicated because of challenges with the quota under which we first arrived and I won't bore anyone with the details. In addition, we misplaced an expired resident card. After sorting every file, drawer and cabinet in the house, we had to acknowledge it is lost.
These glitches, we were told, flagged us as security risks. The irony in this provides comic relief to a somewhat grim situation.
Still, our lawyer assured us three weeks ago that everything was ready to go. These promises were followed by silence after which Mark would again call him only to find out there was a little problem here and there – payment needed, banks on strike, etc. etc. Still, we were being assured by our lawyer's contact in immigration that “You will not miss your flight.” and so we proceeded to plan for the week away to Ethiopia for MCC regional leadership meetings. Visas are often given at the very last minute here.
Last Friday it became clear that those plans were in serious jeopardy when by office closing we had nothing in hand but were promised “Monday.” We canceled our Monday flight and put a Wednesday flight on hold - arriving in Addis Abeba then would allow us to still attend most of the meetings. On Monday we heard nothing all day as well, but when Mark called, our lawyer checked with immigration and said he was told to pick up our ready documentation on Tuesday. He arranged to deliver everything to our supervisor's wife in Abuja; we hurriedly booked the Wednesday flight.
On Tuesday we picked Val and Greg at lunchtime for the drive to Abuja. I wish I'd read the “error message” on Greg's DS when he tried to start a game for what it now seems to be – an omen of more misfortune ahead. All Tuesday our lawyer went strangely silent – he did not respond to phone calls or texts and as we arrived on Abuja's outskirts after a four hour drive on a bad road we knew we were in trouble. Eventually we emailed our lawyer's boss and went to bed. At 1:30 a.m. Mark received a phone text that unfortunately the visas and CERPACs were not yet signed.
Yesterday we cancelled our flights - just in time to get the refund minus the cancellation fees - and returned to Jos in pouring rain.
Infuriated is a good word for how I feel. Attending regional meetings is necessary for our work and provides much needed support between colleagues, updates on what is happening within MCC in general and time for discussion, problem-solving and a little reprieve from daily life. As a mission leader there is not a lot I can share or divulge with my friends here. But CWARM is a safe spot to vent, share problems and joys, and empathize with others who do the same kind of work. So it's a real bummer to miss out. (And how am I going to stock up now on good coffee?)
But equally frustrating is not knowing where to go from here. Our file seems to be in perpetual purgatory – neither rejected nor signed and we get no straight answers on how to clear the impasse. I wonder if this lack of timely moving through the system is due to negligence, plans to frustrate, a way of letting us know we're not welcome or none of the above. Our legal status is in question without signed CERPACs, and leaving for meetings or an emergency is risky since we don't have re-entry permits to return home to Nigeria.
I want to rant and rave that we've lived here for five years and are serving as leaders of an organization whose sole purpose is to walk alongside and support indigenous NGOs and the people they serve. I wrote an imaginary letter to the Comptroller-General of Immigration pleading our case. I want to play the martyr and remind immigration that living here is not a stroll on the beach nor a way to wealth, but that we do so out of a profound and difficult-to-follow sense of call and commitment. I want to proclaim that our children love Nigeria and are great ambassadors of the good things going on here. I want to challenge them to do any computer background check they have at their disposal to disprove that we are a security risk to this country. Ah, the foolish frenzy of my little ego.
Here we are back in Jos – the kids reluctantly returned to school – Val hurriedly studying for two exams that she thought she would be taking next week. We're left with the task of working to figure out next steps.
This series of unfortunate events was peppered with small gifts. We enjoyed a brief visit in Abuja with our supervisor's spouse. Our neighbor invited us down for supper last night since she knew we wouldn't have food in the fridge. Friends have told us they are praying for us. Others have given advice on sources of professional help.
And I'm reminded that abrupt and endless disappointments are nothing new for Nigerians. Unable to rise above the fray of unfortunate experiences just because we own an American passport provides gut-wrenching reminders of life for the average Nigerian. Our guard's college has been on strike for more than a year. Banks close frequently. People die from sorely inadequate health care. Civil servants are on strike due to non payment of a promised salary increase. The government threatens to remove a fuel subsidy which could send the economy – already at a slow crawl - into a kamikaze dive.
Nigerians face many dead-ends, u-turns or “come back later”s. Their skill at handling these, their ability to shrug it off and "keep on keepin' on," as my friend Jim says, are better than mine. But I can empathize with their frustration, rage and sense of helplessness.
And I keep hoping that one day, their series of unfortunate events will be transformed into action that nonviolently works for real change, so that life in Nigeria can move forward with more hope and fewer error messages.
In the meantime, we're healthy, blessed with friendship and sympathy and willing to drink tea if we can't get coffee.
written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Jottings Over Two Weeks
We enjoyed having Stan & Marilyn Troyer in our home for several nights during their three-week visit to Nigeria. Stan and Marilyn were MCCers in Gindiri from 1966-69. Since a love for Nigeria often lingers in the hearts of those who have lived here, they've stayed in touch through the years and have been instrumental in collaborating on the development of an indigenous ministry that promotes transformation in church leaders. They make occasional trips to encourage and walk alongside that ministry.We were cheered by their warm and accepting spirits and consider Stan and Marilyn two of our many friends who walk with and encourage us during this MCC term. Val and Greg enjoyed having them around too - especially when Stan studiously helped Val work out her extra credit algebra problems!
In another, non-photographed event, Greg's 4th grade teacher came to our home for supper and good conversation. Greg showed her one of his partially-made movies – filmmaking now his passion. He would rather shoot film than go to school....
Sometimes our kids actually pose for the camera - “Post this one, Mommy!” 
Not bad for an impromptu photo shoot. 
The kid's school celebrated Nigeria's 51st birthday – most kids wore Nigerian-style outfits – and thoroughly enjoyed a day out of school uniforms. Greg's class and other elementary students chowed down on a picnic with delicious Nigerian foods and some American cupcakes.In the morning, CID, MCC's day guard/gardener poses with Val and Greg.
I forgot to pull the camera out but on Saturday mission families and individuals showed up for an Independence Day celebration at a local compound - with mostly North American-type food and fun activities– volleyball, trampoline, games, scrap-booking, etc. Almost a hundred people participated, evidence, I think, of how starved we feel for social outlets and fun things to do in a city with security concerns.
8th Grade Bake Sale –8th graders have more responsibility, more school work and fund-raisers! Rice and meat, cole slaw, cookies or brownies, drink – about $6 for adults – lovingly prepared by parents, then packaged and sold by students.We hope to travel to Ethiopia next week for regional MCC meetings but are still waiting for re-entry visas. We've been "in process" five months now but it's still coming down to the wire. We're looking forward to a time of fellowship, connection and learning with our MCC colleagues and peers. I'm also personally anticipating many cups of hot, dark-roasted Ethiopian coffee and a break from routine. The kids relish hopping on planes and seeing new places. So we're keeping our fingers crossed.
And finally, a few flowers from the field and garden.
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