Hartman-Souders in Nigeria

February Frenzy

2012-02-11T16:17:00.002+01:00

We are back in routine with school and work and also acutely aware of continued violence in parts of Nigeria.

There seems to be no end in sight to this terrorism – I think that is what it's rightly called even though I hate to use the word. And there's subsequently no end to the uncertainty, concern and suffering that can play havoc with human resilience, faith and stamina. Being prepared, alert, even vigilant is what's required of everyone living here. It's a heavy burden borne by many who watch and pray and wait with dismay and yes, hope as well.

Nigerians are notoriously positive and accepting; “Things might get better,” they say. “God will intervene.” I so admire this about them.

We've been occupied writing year-end reports and then putting them into the MCC data base. It's important but somewhat tedious work. This is another '”last” for us - given our departure before the next reporting deadline - that we are happy about!

We're also preparing to host a learning tour from the West Coast due to arrive in Nigeria on Tuesday for a week of visiting MCC programs, discussing the ongoing violence and conflict here and also introducing MCC and U.S. Based Mennonite church leaders to some programs started by Nigerians (who are also Mennonite!) who now live in California. We pray all goes smoothly for this packed-full week of experiencing, listening, learning and being together. Mark will be on the whole trip and I'll be part of the four days the group spends in Jos.

Following that a week-long partner review is scheduled.

So, maybe I'll resurface about mid-March.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Striking and Waiting

2012-01-14T11:44:00.003+01:00

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

January 2012 Update

2012-01-04T11:27:00.001+01:00

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

Doing No Harm

2011-12-01T12:02:00.012+01:00

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

The Beginning of the "Lasts"

2011-11-23T19:35:00.002+01:00

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

Visas and Val's Birthday

2011-10-27T13:39:00.010+01:00

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

A Series of Unfortunate Events

2011-10-13T10:59:00.004+01:00

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

Jottings Over Two Weeks

2011-10-06T09:24:00.019+01:00

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.

Transformation, One Person at a Time

2011-09-28T14:29:00.003+01:00

by Talitha Pam
CRWRC Constituency Bridger/Programme Assistant

“Friends, friends, please don't touch this kiosk!”

These words from Abdul, a 19 year-old man in Anglo-Jos, Nigeria, were shouted over the din of the burgeoning riot. As had happened so many times before, youth from one religion were about to burn down the business of a family from a different religious background. Unlike previous times, however, Abdul was determined to stop it from happening.

“This man has worked hard to rebuild this kiosk after it was burnt in the last crisis,” he urged. “We all enjoy buying things from his shop.” Abdul shouted an appeal to his friends above their shouts to burn the shop down.

“Move away or we will drag you away!” his friends angrily replied in protest.

Violence between Christian and Muslim groups in Nigeria has been an all-too-frequent occurrence. That's why the Christian Reformed World Relief Committee (CRWRC) has incorporated peace and reconciliation work into its community development program. Their hope is to help people recognize the humanity of all their neighbors and the good that can occur when people work together. Abdul is one of the participants in CRWRC's program.

In the past Abdul was one of the ring leaders of violence in the neighborhood. During one of the CRWRC youth meetings, Abdul and his colleagues had discussed how vandalization and the destruction and burning of infrastructure limited the ability of the community to grow and that innocent, everyday people suffered the most during religious conflict. Abdul agreed. He reflected on the many shops and kiosks that had been destroyed, some by his own hands. He also recalled how many people had struggled and borrowed money to open businesses again after the crisis. He promised himself that he would never let his religious differences lead him to destroy someone's livelihood again.

“Guys, do this for me, please, it's the right thing to do,” Abdul now begged his friends.

“What do you mean, by 'It's the right thing to do.? Have you gone soft? Are you an arna (infidel) friend now?” they asked him mockingly.

“He has done nothing wrong. Let the man be. He has a wife and family to care for,” Abdul continued begging his friends.

Eventually they relented and left the kiosk alone.”

Note: Last year MCC and CRWRC sat down with local partner MCCSN (Movement for Christian Community Service in Nigeria) MCCSN's headquarters are in the heart of Anglo-Jos and their director Bilhatu Sarki, along with Jummai Fidelis, her assistant, were intent on working to restore peace and foster reconciliation among the residents of this once thriving community. MCC Nigeria sponsored Bilhatu’s attendance at the 2010 West African Peace Building Institute in Ghana, which helped build her capacity in peace building. CRWRC contributed funds and accompaniment for interfaith meetings between male youth, an interfaith football (soccer) tournament and to assist some residents of both faiths to rebuild their businesses.

Thanks to Talitha for allowing me to post this on our blog.

Random Thoughts on this UN International Day of Peace

2011-09-21T15:00:00.007+01:00

Sunday: Church as usual. Inwardly cheered when the service appeared to end before 11 a.m., meaning it lasted under two hours. Inwardly groaned when we were asked to sit down and listen to some “security tips.” Heard new rules for attending church and managing a potential crisis: no handbags in church (except for moms with little kids), metal detectors now be in use, compound gate to be closed at 10 a.m. (one hour after starting time – a steady trickle eventually fills the church), only one route to the washrooms, no young children roaming outside during service (we sent Greg out during this talk for one last roam), women must care for small children in a special room, not outside the church. Oh yes, and in the event of trouble, women and kids will be herded to an interior space, men will stay in the sanctuary.

We do not want to adjust to this new reality. Val kept saying, “This is depressing.” Yep.

Monday & Tuesday: MCC Nigeria helps to sponsor the 3rd Annual Peace Practitioner's Forum – a gathering of interested peace organizations. While tensions and violence have increased since last year’s forum, these committed individuals and groups - Christian and Muslim, men and women – continue to work for peace in their various communities and spheres of influence. This gathering is meant to increase networking and collaboration, identify gaps in peace efforts and promote and energize people for ongoing peace work. I am inspired to be in this small space with 50-odd persons who believe in and will continue to speak for, live for, work for reconciliation, fair government policies, tolerance and peaceful co-existence(Peace workers are not going to be out of work anytime soon here.)

Tuesday Afternoon: Val spends hours designing a power point for Social Studies. Forgetting to “save often,” she loses everything when the computer battery dies. (Having also forgotten to “plug in.”) All that effort and then a blank screen.

And yet, with a mind full of what she'd just completed, Val was able to re-do the Power Point in a shorter amount of time than the first effort required. The second time around, she “saves often.”

Is this a little akin to development or peace work – no effort is totally lost but strides forward are challenged with shutdowns, pauses, failure. Movement is not straightforward and some “crashing” occurs.

Wednesday: Today is the UN International World Day of Peace – It’s hard to imagine a world without war, without violence, without bitterness, rancor or even resentment.

But for just a moment I imagine a Plateau State teeming with farms and industries that brings much needed non-oil revenue into the local economy that pay a living wage to its workers.

I imagine smoothly paved roads and shoulders where cars travel at a reasonable speed.

I imagine all children going to schools staffed and equipped with the basics needed for learning. I imagine youth heading for the university or vocational programs with well-written text books, with internships that pave the way for solid jobs. (Without needing to pay any bribes to their instructors.)

I imagine affordable access to clinics with trained staff who simply and expertly treat illness that used to kill.

I imagine no one coming to our office asking for money because they cannot afford school fees, a hospital bill or food.

I imagine driving without seeing even one soldier donning bulky bullet proof vest and helmet, a gun slung casually over his shoulder, sauntering down the street.

I imagine a place where justice and restitution are meted out with fairness and compassion for all, regardless of whether they are an "indigene" or a "settler." I imagine those terms having absolutely no meaning anymore here. (Oh dear, now I've gone too far!)

I imagine that those who mourn have transformed their sorrow to energy, love and dedication for peace and renewal. I imagine that trauma healing will not be needed. I imagine a city where mixed neighborhoods are celebrations of diversity, not streets filled with tension.

I imagine going to my place of worship without entertaining thoughts about an “attack from the enemy.”

How fun to imagine a world where peace is even just beginning to prevail.

The small questions seems to be this: What are we - you and me - doing for peace today? What can we let go of, move on from, forgive? What action might we take to decrease violence and increase justice, equal access, or mutual understanding?

I know there are many places, in my heart, in my home, workplace, community, world where I could answer this question. Here is one - as I drive through the destroyed area of town where our church is located - where we now have to submit to sensors and restrictions in an attempt to stay safe - I will look persons of differing faith who do not attend Sunday services in the eye. I'll wave, smile and stop and buy peanuts. I'll keep praying that this once bustling community will be rebuilt and re-integrated. I'll remember that our common humanity unites us.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Written in February But Still Mostly Accurate in September

2011-09-13T12:02:00.006+01:00

Moses, our UPS delivery man,
zooms up to our house every three weeks
with the package from our home office.
He actually wears a helmet, mandatory probably.

I won't begin to tell you how many people
perish in vehicle smashups.
So every time,
I'm amazed to see him again,
unscathed, with his quiet, patient smile,
while I scribble my signature and
hold out reverent hands to take the parcel.

I rip open the plastic envelope.
contents slipping onto the kitchen counter.
The sorting begins.

I wish we could trust the Nigerian Postal Service
but only some of our mail would actually arrive intact
if we did.
Still, NiPost is improving; more mail gets through.

National Geographic Kids, ASK and FACES for the children
who snatch them up like chocolates to savor.
(No, please don't send that.)

Once my mother sent a care package through the mail
in one of those sturdy insulated envelopes meant to
withstand stress.
It took three weeks to arrive (not bad)
wrinkled and torn in one corner.
A rodent
had started to munch my
rye crackers. I ate them anyway.

Last month, the package was held up for more than a week;
after several bombs exploded and then
tit-for-tat violence shut our city down;
UPS cannot run the tightest ship
when people are hacking each other to death in the
side streets.

Church periodicals,
journals on spirituality
a belated Christmas card
and some junk mail that should
be tossed, not paid to travel here.
Sojourners, Creative Nonfiction
and the Sun
Oh mama, how I like the Sun.
(You should read it - it contains some of the most real
and finely tuned writing around – but beware, it never shies away
from the dark and painful.)

I wonder how the UPS man does his deliveries now
when after so much violence
“no go” zones determine entrance
depending on your faith or ethnicity.
Or is UPS like the Red Cross,
neutral and mostly welcome everywhere?

A yellow envelope full of
carefully clipped news articles
about the country or continent
arrives almost every time
from our friend George.

If I conducted a survey of all the articles he's sent
I'm pretty sure 80% would be grim and guarded.
A few might be cautiously hopeful
about Nigeria's short and long-term prospects
if they took even most of the oil money and actually invested
in her many fine and noble people.
Words like corruption, mismanagement, violence, insecurity and danger
show up like alarms going off at regular intervals.
If I didn't live here, I'd be alarmed
at all the nouns used to describe this country.
Oh heck, I do live here and I am scared.
(and also perplexed, sad and sometimes given to hopelessness)

It's those fine, noble, honest people
steadily working for change
still hoping
still given to joy
that keep me going –
like a few investments
steadily, stubbornly doing well on the Dow
despite its dangerous dips.

Speaking of which,
George, our article clipping friend,
also handles our finances and other stateside business
during this five-year long stint.

He reminds us, when sending our investment statements,
that our portfolio is too conservative.
our tolerance for risk is
ironically
way low.

Brenda Hartman-Souder

(Thanks to George for his consent.)

Pulling Peace Workers Together

2011-08-25T12:11:00.009+01:00

Covering meetings is boring and does not generate donors, is the gist of what I've been told by magazine editors. And I agree – what's to publish about a bunch of people sitting around a table to share experiences? What kind of action-oriented photos can be snapped of that? (And all I've really got to show is this group photo.)

And yet I have to write about the two-day gathering MCC Nigeria hosted last week. I persist in believing that some gatherings are seeds for much potential community development work donors can get excited about. And bringing people together where learning, collaboration and networking can happen is one of MCC Nigeria's strengths.

Our plans for a gathering of alumni who were sponsored by MCC to attend peace training since 2004 were long in the making and thwarted by several outbreaks of local violence. That it came to fruition during another week of unrest in Plateau State makes the gathering an ironic near-miracle.

Gopar Tapkida, MCC's regional peace advisor for Central & West Africa, facilitated two days of sharing, interaction, brainstorming and networking among these 20 men and women – a diverse mix of Catholics, Protestants and Muslims – a 91% participation rate that surprised us. These folks were eager to meet other peace workers and share experiences in development, leadership and conflict transformation. We provided tea and lunch (and guest housing for out of town participants) but not an honorarium or transportation per diem that often seems to help get people to a meeting.

Participants were happy to share how the MCC sponsorship to the African Peace Building Institute (API) in Zambia or the West African Peace Building Institute (WAPI) in Ghana impacted their personal, family, community and professional lives.

They were clear that more peace training would be even better, and that as a group they'd like to keep meeting to share ideas and best practices, to support each other in this difficult work and also connect to wider peace practitioner networks (more on how MCC has helped support that in another blog).

Since MCC Nigeria adapted a peace building and conflict-sensitive lens for all our development work in Nigeria, we more intentionally send representatives from many of our own partner groups to the peace institutes. This has helped to build their capacity and to ignite a passion and commitment to doing their work in ways that promote peace as they lead organizations with foci in literacy, water/sanitation, income generation, health care, disaster relief, conflict prevention and HIV/AIDS..

Funding for WAPI was dramatically cut this year and we're not sure if we'll be able to send people after 2011. API is re-organizing and their future is also unclear. I hate to see these cuts because we so clearly see the value of peace and other capacity building training.

But other alternatives might include MCC Nigeria supporting an annual peace institute versus sending folks to other countries, and offering refresher courses and best practices in peace work. We could use some of the gifted and experienced individuals attending last week's gathering – as many of them are fine leaders and good facilitators. There are many creative ways to blend peace principles with any kind of development or relief efforts – the actions MCC is best known for and of course, needs donors for.

Time will tell. For now we're enjoying the satisfaction of a successful gathering – boring as it might sound to others – that may evolve into better peace work, more thoughtful development planning and more effective relief efforts and distribution. To me, that's pretty exciting!

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Retreating

2011-08-06T16:33:00.006+01:00

Finally, after eighteen months, our team had its “annual” retreat. The violence and lack of security have made pulling off a retreat difficult. In addition, there are only two windows of opportunity when both the Nigerian and the North American children are both off from school at the same time.. These are around the Christmas holidays and then late July/early August.

Eventually Mark and I just decided to see if Miango Rest Home – a conference and retreat center run by ECWA-SIM, and the place we usually have team meetings – was an option. Our program staff agreed to this quiet spot, even though we usually go to someplace a little more spicy – like a major city or Yankari Game Park - and Miango had a four-day space for us.

Everyone, it seemed, enjoyed being away in a peaceful place for spiritual and physical refreshment.

Mark and I are so grateful that our prayers for both youth and adult facilitators was answered.

Nathan and Ann Elawa, who serve with the Great Commission, agreed to provide the morning spiritual input for the ten adults. Themes of grace and forgiveness were creatively explored using Jesus' parables. They were apt themes for our team – but really, in a world where hurt and thoughts of revenge are often nursed more than a desire for reconciliation – these are filling topics for every human. The Elawas teenaged children were great additions to our group of youth.

Stephen and Eglah (egg-la) Bahago, who work with Word of Life, kept our ten youth – from ages 9-19 – occupied and challenged. You know that a retreat has been a success when your children come and ask if they can stay longer!

Miango, about an hour from Jos given the deteriorating roads - is not a luxury hotel; its cottages and guest rooms are maybe 50-70 years old and some of them look their age. Simply furnished, they have housed missionaries and conference attendees since the 1920's (don't check the date, but I'm close on that one!) Our first cottage sported a small pool of water on the bathroom floor and after several visits from a plumber, we were moved to another duplex that was much drier. The food is ample and yummy and the service at the reception desk is cheerful and attentive.

I am grateful for creative discussions around the issues of God's loving, scandalous, foolish-looking and vulnerable grace as exhibited in the parable of the prodigal son. I was equally pushed to think through what authentic forgiveness is – both when I need to be forgiven and when forgiving is the only way back to whole and loving relationship.

So it's back to the office and plenty of work and challenge on Monday. Thanks to MCC for believing that retreats for staff are an important part of our work and life of service.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

The Heart of Our Work

2011-07-07T10:00:00.002+01:00

After four and a half years, I should be adjusted to and prepared for what is expected when I visit an MCC partner organization as they carry out a project. But I am neither well adjusted or prepared yet. I am, however, better at ad libbing and “going with the flow” in this African context.

Last Saturday I visited a workshop organized by Women Initiative in Sustainable Community Development (WISCOD). WISCOD, a Muslim organization, works at HIV/AIDS awareness and support, peace building and other projects in the mostly Muslim communities of Jos North and Wase (wa-say). MCC has partnered with them for about five years. Amina Ahmed is the coordinator and WISCOD members are mostly Muslim woman – many of them are educated, progressive and passionate about effecting change in their communities.

STARS: Start Taking AIDS Risk Seriously is the program MCC currently funds. Over the last three years, WISCOD has organized workshops for youth peer educators, traditional birth attendants (TBAs) and Islamic school teachers, working to build and spread awareness around AIDS and promote healthy, safe living. They also run a small clinic providing free and confidential testing for HIV, lend support to those who test positive and also visit and encourage persons living with AIDS. And Amina, trained in peace work as well, finds creative ways to integrate peace building skills into many of these activities.

Although this was a three-day workshop I planned to just step in for an hour or so in the morning to observe and lend support. The venue was a bright airy room full of about 35 participants who were being taught active listening skills. When that session ended, I was given a chance to “share a few words.”

This is the part I should be adjusted to and prepared for, but I still almost always forget. However, everyone was so attentive and thus it was relatively easy to share a little bit about how MCC works and also to provide encouragement for activities I was observing that day.

I ended up staying a lot longer than I planned, and missed a second partner visit. (Again I should have known better not to schedule two in one day!) I watched a skilled, articulate and engaged facilitator lead the group, composed of both young men and women, in a participatory exercise that helped them see their personal and collective power to change their lives and communities. I listened to several action plans – what some of these youth leaders has been working on since last's year's workshop to address HIV/AIDS, peace and other issues in their communities, their joys, their challenges, their frustrations. Several youth sang a song or shared a rap/poem. It was clear this group had built trust among them, that they liked being together and that many of them took their role as peer educators seriously.

Just before lunch, Amina asked if I would speak to the group again and challenge them to help WISCOD raise funds for the future since MCC Nigeria and WISCOD are in the last year of a three-year plan. She wanted me to specifically discuss the possibility of a matching funds arrangement: WISCOD raises money from within its Islamic community and from other sources and then MCC might match those up to a certain amount. I earlier addressed this possibility with Amina to try and find a way to address sustainability. MCC is the main donor for WISCOD's projects and this has not changed much through the years. WISCOD could benefit from a more diverse funding or income base and from gaining financial buy-in within their own faith community. Otherwise, seen as being sponsored by a Christian organization they face the risk of losing credibility.

So, I talked again, trying to be as clear as possible and really challenging the attendees to not be just beneficiaries of WISCOD's activities but full participants that share in the task of raising funds for future activities. I do not know what the future exactly holds with MCC's partnership with WISCOD; an evaluation is planned for later this year. But I find WISCOD the kind of partner that MCC Nigeria values - they do good work, this one in HIV/AIDS, with relatively little money, and mainstream peace building values, skills and exercises into their work at the same time. And they are respected and valued in their community.

I thought I'd sneak away at lunch break. But then Maijidda, (May-jeeda) one of WISCOD's members, approached and said, “You told me you like tuwo (too-wo) and miya (mee-ya) and that's what we cooked today.” Well, her stew was amazing – just the right amount of pepper and spice and salt, with tender beef and a large hot rice ball to eat with it. And with a Pepsi to wash it all down!

Then I did leave, backing my car out onto the dirt street past some of the male workshop participants washing with water from small plastic kettles in preparation for their next communal prayer. I hit the main road and thought about how several months ago, this area was unsafe for a white person or a “Christian” to drive through, how a fragile peace is enjoyed here, how the full market means that people feel safe enough to resume normal activity. And how residents are grateful even though there is no promise of continued calm.

I don't know if blog readers get a sense of what we “do” in our work for MCC Nigeria. While our job is administrative and includes numerous behind the scenes tasks, meetings, emails and reports, the heart of MCC's work is walking alongside national organizations and churches to provide personnel, funds and technical support to help meet human need.

The first years of our term were so full of learning and crises and multiple tasks and expectations that I did not get to nearly as many partner visits as I'd have liked. This year, with a smaller amount of partners and more time, I am tasting the delights of visiting our partners' work in action, even if means giving impromptu speeches, giving up Saturday mornings to putter at home, being photographed while sitting and trying to look dignified, and wondering, after several hours, if the place has a working toilet!

I am still not really adjusted to everything about living in Nigeria, but that's somehow okay when I settle down to listen and learn, in awe, what our partners are doing, with flair, energy, commitment and skill, in their communities.

Writing Ourselves Out of a Job

2011-06-14T16:00:00.000+01:00

My blog posting rates have plummeted. I blame it on an unusually stressful time in our office, our children now being out of school and home on mornings I usually write, and plain old lethargy.

The kids finished the school year well. With all the violence and upheaval in Jos causing subsequent closings at their school it's a relief to finally get to the end of this academic year.

We did not plan any major traveling this summer; and that is a first since 2007. But there are hidden delights and opportunities in that – a more relaxed schedule, time for friends (and our kids have more friends than they did in 2007!), and a longer work day for Mark and I since we do not have to leave the office at 3:15 to pick up the children. We're three weeks into the “summer” holiday and so far so good!.

Val and Greg attend a sports camp some mornings at their school and the school library is open too, a big plus! This weekend we'll head to Abuja for some down time, a dental appointment for Greg and a couple of work-related meetings. Throw in a movie, eating out and shopping at one of the bigger supermarkets and well – that's excitement to us!

Ah, but with life comes the knowledge of endings and we cannot help but spend more time in thought and conversation over the fact that this is our last full summer in Nigeria. How can four and a half years brought us to within one year of our term ending? Our children, who came reluctantly, are now fully embedded in life here – synthesizing Nigerian and American and third-culture-kid cultures in their unique ways.

The reality of time passing hit harder this week as I finished the draft of the job description for the MCC Representative for Nigeria. After approval from our supervisor and Human Resources, it will get posted on MCC's website and we'll start hoping the right person(s) will come forward, willing and eager to lead and serve here.

My overactive mind worries about the job market back in the states. I wish I could just as easily write my “ideal” job description for a position that will bring new challenge, learning, sufficient pay and stability in 2012.

And yet, there's a whole lot of livin' here to be had. I may be writing the job description for our to-be-found successor; but for now my goal is to make this final year one of relishing friendships, attending to work projects and commitments and also planning healthy goodbyes. After all, one of the 45 tasks listed on one of the sheets MCC sent about what people in our role do, is “prepare for transitions.”

Happy 9th Birthday Greg!

2011-05-10T10:25:00.004+01:00

Greetings from Jos. Last week was a blur as I was back in the office after our time in Kenya and solo with the kids while Mark attended a workshop at a nearby retreat center. Hosting the Africa Leadership Team – five MCC leaders from around the continent and the MCC Africa Director – highlighted my week. I relish pulling our partners together and inviting them to interactive sessions with visitors where they can share what living, working and serving here is like and how MCC is helping or could help better. These sessions are never dull and we always run out of time. I'm glad the ALT chose to make the less-than-24-hour trip to Jos while in Abuja for a week of meetings.

But the big news: Today is Greg's ninth birthday! Although my memory seems to be sketchy on some things, I remember his birth. A C-section had been scheduled IF I didn't go into labor on my own as I refused Pitocin to start another labor after a nasty experience with it during Val's birth. At 7:30 a.m, I was on the table, the anesthesia was being administered and the doctor was preparing to cut. Suddenly he barked, “You'd better get the father in here if he wants to see this birth!” Then Mark, who'd been waiting, dressed and masked, outside the theater, but apparently forgotten, was whisked in. The lights had already been lowered and classical music was softly playing – I am trying to imagine how this must sound to a Nigerian reader! - and a few seconds later, Greg was ushered into the world.

Initially a placid, “easy” baby, he has grown into a high energy, inquisitive and creative youngster. A (messy) art project is always on his desk and little bits of paper, yarn, clay and jottings for yet another story or play are scattered through the house. Greg asks hundreds of questions a day. He walks around the compound or school yard, creating stories in his head. (He especially enjoys his compound friends - many boys here about his age.) He pores over the National Geographic Kids that come once a month and likes to amuse (or slightly annoy, depending on how the day went) us with constant quips, facts, questions and knock-knock jokes. Writing, drawing, animation and film-making are his current passions. He is sincerely a little disappointed that we are not buying him an expensive video camera and PhotoShop for his birthday....But we hope he enjoys the gift that awaits him this afternoon when he gets home from school. Stay tuned!

If you read this blog and have time to wish him Happy Birthday, please post a comment and I'll share it with him.

Last week, elementary students were asked to write a persuasive letter to the Elementary School Principal. Greg worked really hard on his and committed it to memory, so evidently, when he recited it to Mrs. Ardill, it packed quite a punch. Here is is:

Dear Mrs. Ardill:

You are the best principal in a decade, no in a century. No, in a millennium. Well, you get the point, right? You are a good person who lets people around you do what they want to do, like challenging you in the reading contest and going down the water slide at Field Day.

I would like to make a simple request. I have been realizing that when I go to the drinking fountain to fill up my water bottle I am sometimes late to class because the line is too long. I ask you to ask the maintenance man to build another drinking fountain. I would be glad if you did that and I think everyone else would too.

I also kindly request that recess would end at 10:45 instead of 10:30. I would like that because if there wasn't a fair soccer game, people would have time to discuss it without missing any class. Also, people that have larger snacks have time to play. I think this class needs it and other grades need it too.

I really am honored that you took time to listen and to answer these questions. I hope that you do these things or at least one of these things. I really think it would help this strong and large community growing in Christ.

Sincerely yours,

Gregory Hartman-Souder

post written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Meeting, Resting and Reflecting

2011-04-27T14:55:00.011+01:00

Greetings from Nairobi. By now readers have likely surmised that we did indeed get our re-entry visas, although they were signed later than we’d hoped for. At any rate, our travel plans worked out well as the elections dates in Nigeria were changed and were held over a longer period of time. We were able to rebook our flights and change the guest house reservation to stay in Nairobi until this Thursday.

Our first week here we hit the ground running and did some touristy things. Of highlight was a day trip out into the Kenyan countryside. I liked best the boat ride across Lake Naivasha and then walking for several hours on an island that has no dangerous predatory animals. While the zebras, wildebeests, giraffes and dik-diks knew how to keep their distance from us; we nevertheless got a lot closer to them than we could on the safari drive at Nakuru National Park. Still it was a great chance to be out of the city and to get a taste of wild life and rural village life.

Watching, or rather, reading about elections from afar has been strange. Elections, deemed freer and fairer than others, have still been met by more violence and destruction, especially in the northern parts of Nigeria, and that puts the country on high alert. While the death count varies according to various sources, we’ve read that 40,000 persons have fled their homes in fear of more retributive violence. Final elections for state governors and state assembly positions take place today in all but a few states.

MCC leadership meetings for central and west Africa MCC reps took most of the second week of our stay. It’s always good to be with persons who carry the same kinds of responsibilities in other countries, who uniquely know about the complex and multi-faceted role of being an MCC representative. I feel less isolated and alone meeting with these folks.

Now we are in our third week and enjoying rest and simply soaking up the peaceful environment of the Mennonite Guest House in Nairobi. Folks are constantly coming and going and we’ve made some new friends, enjoyed the plentiful food and lush gardens and lawns on this compound. Taking in some movies, water slides at one shopping center and buying some items that we can’t easily get in Nigeria (coffee the major item on the list) are interspersed with reading, resting and reflecting on our life and work in Nigeria.

This time away, and the chance to be out of Nigeria during elections, is a gift that we are deeply grateful for. Thanks to our associate area director who recommended it! Mark and I have had time to have good conversations with MCC staff, each other and also to reflect in solitude. We’ve gained some good perspective on our work and life in Nigeria. With the future so uncertain, we balance commitment to complete our term and work here with the knowledge that in reality we just take life one step at a time. We’ve also more clearly identified some significant work priorities for the next months, along with challenges and opportunities that exist as we serve in a country fraught with violence but also filled with courageous persons willing to carry on.

On Waiting

2011-04-05T11:46:00.004+01:00

“God uses everything. There are no dead ends. There is no wasted energy...God forgives all things for being imperfect, broken and poor,” says Richard Rohr, in his book Everything Belongs.

I hope God can use my impatience.

Today I've been gifted with an extra writing morning. But it doesn't feel like a gift. Because we're impatiently waiting.

This morning we were supposed to finish up packing, go over instructions with our staff and tie up loose ends. We were going to pick the kids up from school early in the afternoon and hit the road to Abuja. We were planning to fly to Nairobi tomorrow for a time away and MCC meetings during the national and state elections happening this month.

Except that we can't. Our re-entry visas haven't been signed, even though we applied for them more than eight weeks ago.

And now the elections dates have been changed and we're not sure we can adjust fights and guesthouses in order to really be away during the elections.

This is Nigeria where things can quickly change. And patience is an absolute must-have qualification to live life well.

The kids got over their disappointment and trooped off to school in the hopes that we could fly on Friday. But we can't fly anywhere without those re-entry visas.

Waiting on something for which you are totally at the mercy of others requires humility, surrender of control and well, patience. We've paid the money, given the process over to our lawyer and are waiting on an important person in immigration to sign the visas already stamped – we are told - in our passport. And with the disruption of election to work and travel schedules, well that could be in five minutes or five days or something in between, or longer....

And my temporary inconvenience is just that,. BUT it reminds me of much more significant waiting that Nigerians practice all the time....waiting for better schools, improved health care, jobs for their graduates, roads that are safe. Waiting for justice and waiting for the healthy investment of oil-wealth that actually works to build the basic ingredients necessary to move a country forward. Waiting for fair elections.

I cannot speak for all Nigerians. (Really I can't speak for any of them!) And I am careful about generalizations. But our Nigerian friends wait ALL THE TIME. They wait on things we consider rights, not privileges. Sometimes to my get-on-with-it, shake-thing-up Western mind, they seem passive, resigned.

With a closer look, however, I see more than just that. I see dignity and a letting go of what they believe they have no control over to get on with what they do – gratitude for daily food, commitment to community, joy at weddings and other celebrations, devotion to their faith, delight in babies and even acceptance of weather without any need whatsoever to obsess about it.

Now many of my Nigerian friends articulate frustration about what they wait and long for as citizens of this amazing, large and vibrant country. And they show grief over what seems unfair. And many are engaged in some sort of advocacy for what they wait for, in one form or another. But waiting well is also necessary for survival here. Otherwise we'd all be flailing, ranting, raving and expending useless energy.

So instead of THAT, which is what I'd like to do, I'll keep still and wait to see how God uses this necessary patience while waiting for re-entry visas. Because much as living here brings challenges, Nigeria and its people are somehow in my bones now.

So after Nairobi, we'd all like to get back across the border, back into Nigeria. And we'll have to wait however long it takes to get that permission to re-enter.

Yard Sale Treasure

2011-03-29T11:20:00.002+01:00

Over the past year, Mark and I spent several Saturday mornings sorting through the MCC store rooms and shipping container, setting aside items that would “keep” for future MCC workers and then putting things that have outworn their usefulness, were broken or not needed in another pile. I am still amazed, even here where life is simpler, how stuff “grows!” A yard sale has been in the works for months; but upheavals in Jos got in the way of our plans to have it in January. So March 26 was the magic day.

We also decided to sell the kids' outgrown clothes and toys, and told Val and Greg to go through their things and decide what to sell.

Well, Greg had long ago given up on Lego and K'Nex and Playmobil so he was all set to sell them and make a huge profit. He boasted about this at length; he imagined himself with a wallet full of cash.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the sale. He pulled out his Legos in order to set prices on the jumbled kits and started building little creations. He dusted off the Playmobil conveyor belt, lift and tractor trailor and spent hours tinkering. He looked at his large selection of colorful K'nex and couldn't wrap his head around saying goodbye.

And in the end, he decided not to sell any of that stuff and it's back in his bedroom closet. (When it's not scattered across the living room floor.)

Sometimes treasure is found right among what we already have.

The sale was a success; with us moving about ninety percent of the items to new owners. Valerie and her good friend Johanna helped out at the sales table, while Greg sat at his own mat with the odds and ends he had less emotional attachment to. The prices were right, the sun was warm and everyone seemed mostly satisfied.

Greg sold enough stuff, along with his first way-too-small bike, to make about $18. MCC made a little bit more than that; these sales are not organized for their profit-making ability but as a way to move items to people who find them valuable.

And now next Saturday we head into the first of three election Saturdays. That means “no movement” for anything other than voters going to polls. And for us non-voters that means time to rest or work at home. And pray that elections go peacefully and fairly. Please join us in that hope.

More Normal

2011-03-19T10:11:00.005+01:00

Let me start by posting a new family photo - can you see how the kids are growing and the parents greying?

For the past year-and-a-half we've been the only expatriate family on our compound, although we've enjoyed getting acquainted with some single Americans who lived here temporarily and short-term guests. So we're happy to welcome two North American families back from long furloughs; one has already arrived and the other is coming soon. With seven children between them (all of them younger than Greg) Val might get some “parent's helper” jobs! Greg enjoys playing with the slightly younger children.

Goodbyes are not fun; but they are normal here. Last Sunday we gathered with other families to bid farewell to friends who have been here a little over two years. We're gonna seriously miss these folks and I keep realizing how transient this life is - people are constantly arriving and going on furlough or home for good. The opportunity in this is to treasure friendships and the chance to meet a whole variety of people. The challenge is not give in to the urge for self-protection from upsetting change and the grief of goodbyes. Mark and I have some good friends here that we'll miss when our time to leave comes. The kids too. I am also so grateful for friends back home who remain steady beacons of support and encouragement during our five plus years away from the states.

School has run seven weeks without an interruption. “Spring break” was changed from March to April and now conveniently falls into the time we plan to be in Kenya. The kids won't have to take so many days off from school. At the strong suggestion of our supervisor, we've decided to leave Nigeria for some of the major elections taking place. Since we were headed to Kenya anyway, we'll tack some more days on and have a “working vacation” - still be checking e-mail but grabbing the opportunity to do some fun things in Nairobi. The decision was just solidified lately and I'm missing the chance to really anticipate and plan this time away, but I think it will provide a much needed break.

This week, the office is relatively quiet, giving us some time to catch up on paperwork and also start to prepare for engagement on mandates and issues. We're finally taking the time to actually read reports and summaries, jot down ideas and notes and seek the counsel of wise friends on some of these issues.

But even on quiet weeks, we are subjected to a cacophony of sounds around our office: the scream of armored trucks as they come and go from the banks just down the street, singing from the conference room below, drumming from the museum behind us and the growl of the generators necessary with frequent power outages. I'm grateful for MCC's solar and deep cell battery back up system which means we no longer need a generator. We only miss the ability to boil water for tea on these blackout days but sometimes Shetu, our office helper, will go and beg hot water from one of our generous generator-reliant neighbors.

Valerie's 7th grade choir gave the chapel for the elementary school on Friday. She takes these commitments seriously and spent a lot of time making sure her clothing fit the dress code, which tends to be a big deal some of the time, depending on the teacher. They did well, considering the truncated school term with less time to practice.

I've also posted, on the right, a link to an article just published in DreamSeeker Magazine, "Parent Tune-up."

The Beauty of Normal

2011-03-08T11:01:00.015+01:00

Normal, ordinary, quotidian, run-of the-mill – wonderful words. Lately I've been compelled to write about what is frightening and unusual, and since some of you ask, “What is typical life for you like?” I'll provide a bit of balance in the weeks to come, if things stay close to, well, "normal.” This is a long entry but if you want a taste of typical Hartman-Souder life, then stay with me. And there are even a few photos, which I am still learning to upload...

Saturday, Feb 26- I puttered - how I cherish those rare Saturdays when I can catch up on correspondence, sort through piles of accumulated clutter, do a little gardening or just move slowly. Val invited a school friend for an “overnight” and Greg was mostly off creating new things in his head or with his collection of bits and pieces of stuff. Mark attended one of our partners' annual general assembly and fundraiser. For supper we headed out to a dinner cooked by an 80-something year old missionary, Harvey, who has started providing meals for about 55 people on a Saturday night. The food is delicious and reasonably priced; and good friends with their children were also there. Due to self-imposed curfews in this time of unease, our already limited social life has constricted further. So a Saturday night with mission friends may still sound kind of staid but we grabbed the chance and had a great time.

Sunday, February 27 was filled with attending church – ours usually goes about 2 ½ hours. Our kids sit through these without too much complaining, although Greg sometimes wanders outside to hang out with mothers tending young children or to play in the compound. Since the church is rehabilitating a parsonage for the next pastor (away from the church's location as pastors are often targeted in violent outbreaks), each Sunday we have two offerings, one for regular church expenses and one for the parsonage. This Sunday a women who had recently turned 50 years old along with everyone else celebrating February birthdays, anniversaries or special events stood in the front of the church and were prayed over; then they “led” the second offering, which involves marching-dancing up front and dropping your tithe in a cloth bag while the youth music group belts out joyful songs.

(Turning 50 is a big milestone here with the median life expectancy at 47, so maybe next year I'll throw a party, or lead the thanksgiving service! Oh dear.)

All last week, Mark and our health adviser Angela Sprunger living in from Abuja, were involved in a partnership evaluation with Faith Alive Clinic, one of MCC's larger partners that provides HIV/AIDS awareness and treatment. I was in charge of kid pick-up from school every day, managed the office - although it usually functions very well on my writing or work at home days - and also supervised tomato and salsa canning at our home. Magdalene and Lydia deftly prepared the 23 quarts of tomato puree and 18 pints of salsa filling our pantry shelf; these come in handy all year round but especially during the rainy season when “fresh” tomatoes are in reality soft and sickly yellow.

Friday, March 4 brought FIELD DAY at Hillcrest. It is a big deal for the elementary school students. Teams are formed early in the school year and students work with their team leader on a service project around Christmas-time, then select a name and work on a cheer for Field Day. Mark was a team leader this year and his team was the Orange Flames....their cheer went something like, “If you block our desire, we will burn you with fire.” (nice combative language for Mennonites!) While kids had a great time at all sorts of water and relay games the whole morning, those Orange Flames did not do so well in the competitive arena. Field Day ends with everyone going down the playground sliding board-turned water slide; the perfect finale on a hot and sticky afternoon. After the mid-day dismissal Mark went back to his evaluation team and I took Greg to a farewell lunch for one of his classmates and her family who are leaving Nigeria in early April. Boy, I wish they weren't leaving as we have grown fond of their family. But arrivals and departures form the fabric of expatriate/missionary life.

Val's middle school also had field day Friday afternoon – focusing on fun and getting wet, not competition. If I had my druthers, I wish the elementary school would do as well.

Saturday, March 5, our associate director (who is married to Angela, our health adviser!) arrived with his twin high-school aged sons in time to go to the Hillcrest Carnival. I may have over-billed it because Starbucks Frappucinos were conspicuously missing (were they there last year or was it just my imagination?). However, there were plenty of games to play and prizes to win; and the school's sophomores earned more money for their senior class trip. We topped the evening off with beans, cornbread, homemade salsa, fresh guacamole and two freshly-killed and grilled catfish we purchased at the junction down the street form our home. Nice.

On Sunday, after lunch, the Sprungers headed back to Abuja and we collapsed for a few hours, then enjoyed coffee on our breezy verandah and commented that snowstorms would likely prevent this normal Sunday ritual if we were living in Syracuse!

Monday, March 6 was a special day for Shetu, our MCC office helper. She has been praying and hoping for a home of her own for many years, and especially so since the recent crises. With a severe limp left from childhood polio, Shetu needed a secure place to live as she cannot move quickly if trouble happens.

With help from MCC Nigeria friends and alumni she was able to purchase a six-room structure just behind our home in the village of Namuwa. MCC staff gathered yesterday with her pastor and church elders and other friends to praise God for answered prayer and to dedicate her new home to God. What a joyful gathering. She, her son Julius and niece Magdalene can comfortably live there; she can also rent out three rooms which will help her financially.

Normal also means our well water is running out in this period just before the rains, our electricity is still erratic and the already interminably slow internet has been knocked out for two days. It now also includes a loud military chopper swinging over Jos, I assume for security surveillance, but hey we're not talking negative normal, we're talking good normal.

May it continue.....

At February's End

2011-02-24T18:59:00.001+01:00

A storm of activity filled February as we worked to meet MCC deadlines for reporting, planning and budgeting. We're still working on some reports but submitted important items on time. For the third year in a row, a violent crisis just before year-end reporting has seriously hampered efforts to be timely.

It's been a tough month, though, as we brought some partnerships to an end, at least in the sense that MCC won't be granting money next year. We are ready to move into a period of intentional listening and networking in order to discern future direction for MCC in Nigeria as we seek to embed peace work in all our partnerships.

Last week I traveled with three other MCC personnel to visit one of our partners in Taraba State; a nine hour drive and then more driving into remote village areas. It was good to get out of Jos, but the weather was hot! We visited boreholes and simple health care programs that MCC has helped to sponsor. Angela Sprunger, who serves as a health advisor, brought new eyes as a nurse-midwife. (Her spouse Mark is our immediate supervisor.) Gopar Tapkida, our regional peace advisor, also went to consult on conflicts affecting the areas where our partners work. Matthew, our business manager/partner advisor, rounded out the team and also did all the driving and handled all the logistics of lodging, food, etc. (no small task)

It's still jarring for me to hear gratitude for one borehole supplying 1500 or more villagers; I keep thinking of American's who have tap water (hot and cold!) in several different places inside their houses. It's still hard to hear that schools and clinics DO NOT EXIST in many of these remote villages, not to mention water and electricity.

Gopar stayed in Jos after traveling with us to Taraba State and was part of three separate meetings with church leaders, MCC staff/partners/friends, and also expatriate missionaries. We helped to schedule these in order to restate/affirm the message of nonviolent options to a wide variety of people but also because we needed to hear from and be encouraged by someone skilled in peace building during difficult times!

Each of those meetings was different. I was dismayed to hear some church leaders calling for communities to arm themselves. (Many of them already are with youth ready to fight!) Some believe this crisis is too far gone to be able to step back from the brink and work at alternative strategies that might deescalate the tensions. I can understand this desire to protect because that's what all of us want. But Gopar was clear, and it makes sense, that defensive strategies alone cannot ultimately solve the crisis.

In our MCC meeting, partners, staff and friends shared their stories, frustrations and fears. Perhaps most sobering from my vantage point, is that in addition to the tense and volatile situation we live in, standing firm as a peace builder is now risky. Partners shared how they are teased or threatened when promoting peace building; trauma and bitterness prevents people from hearing a message of nonviolence and peace. And I can't blame them – how do I know my own reactions if my home were destroyed, family members or friends killed, jobs lost, etc.? So we met, encouraged each other and recognized that while there may not be much that a peace builder can do in certain stages of the conflict; we can hold fast in our belief and quietly encourage each other, teach our children well and treat all people with love and respect. This kind of interactive meeting reminds me what I value about living and working here, what sustains me to keep “lighting my candle” as my sister-in-law encouraged me to do awhile back.

The talk with expatriate missionaries was also interesting. We as expatriates cannot change this situation much; we can only walk alongside and support Nigerians working to peacefully turn this crisis around.

We keep learning to live with uncertainty. At times, on sunny days when birds are signing, it's easy to think that everything might be alright. But Jos is not alright; Jos is in a serious state of conflict. Almost every day some warning arrives in a text or email about some planned violence, a section of town to avoid or news that a load of guns was confiscated by police or another rural village was attacked in the night. This is not normal.

So we are not feeling entirely normal; but somehow accepting this helps us keep working, loving, breathing and praying and hopefully encouraging others to do the same.

The Given Life, Part Two

2011-02-01T12:58:00.004+01:00

Today my children are in school for the first time in six weeks! Yahoo! Sitting in my little home office and quietly tapping my keyboard, I breathe gratitude for this solitude and the chance to think clearly. (Can you detect that I came close to becoming unhinged during that period?) Most schools have reopened now and Lydia, our house helper, said her children rose very early in excitement. We are not exempt from future interruptions; but we thank God for this hopeful development.

My last blog generated more than usual response. (Not that I ever get a massive response to my musings.) Wendell Berry prophetically and poetically penned a simple truth for those who want to live with depth and joy. Accepting and embracing the given life is counter-intuitive to how we as westerners function, even while we may know, deep within, that living each moment as it comes is holy living.

The given life here has been full of grim local news balanced by periods of lightness and more family time. After borrowing DVDs from friends, our kids begged to watch a movie almost every night. Mark and I prefer quiet book reading so we sometimes only grudgingly agreed. Scrunching together on one couch with a blanket keeping the harmattan drafts out reminded me that the kids need our physical closeness, they need to be assured we are all in this given life together.

The Christmas UPS package finally arrived in late January, with wonderful Christmas cards which we joyfully hung across the back of our kitchen cabinets. The timing was perfect – no holiday bustle to keep us from savoring each note and card.

The kids rose to the occasion by getting into a home-school routine. Mark and I took turns tutoring Greg – okay I admit, Mark did this most often – and then we juggled the office work. A few days with school friends help break up the monotony too. While not ideal, I am learning advanced skills in prioritizing and throwing out unnecessary or trivial “shoulds.” Listening to staff, partners and friends, supporting one another in mourning the loss of Jos as we knew it and praying for wisdom and safety is far more important than getting our MCC paperwork filed in time. (My apologies to MCC's Program Planning Department.)

Last week, we spent five days in Abuja. Mark signed the cooperation agreement between MCC Nigeria and the Federal Government, paving the way for MCC to be registered as an International Non-Governmental Organization (INGO). Now we await the final signature from the appropriate federal minister. We started this process almost two years ago; so it's a big deal! This status will allow expatriate MCCers to live here without quotas and should make getting re-entry visas easier.

While in Abuja, we also picked up the kids' new passports, had meetings with our supervisor and regional peace adviser, and enjoyed some of the amenities of this big, growing city – movie theater, nice restaurants and swimming. Mark and Angela, our supervisor and spouse, took good care of us and are helping us think through ways we can continue to assess the situation in Jos and care for ourselves and others. Val and Greg especially enjoyed leaving Jos for a bit of fun and diversion. We were grateful for safe driving.

Visits with Nigerians always help me feel more connected and centered and our changed schedule led to more time for this. We visited Lydia and her family, and enjoyed delicious rice and stew. Other dear friends spent a Sunday afternoon with us. We chowed on scones, sipped coffee and lamented the violence but also encouraged each other in the important task of living a peace bearing life despite the loud calls by many involved in this conflict for violence as a solution to long-standing conflict.

One partner recently commented that it “would be dangerous not to include peace building” in her HIV/AIDS work. She says this with both quiet determination and weariness as a peace worker who sees her city falling apart. While voices that urge non-violence, listening and love are definitely unpopular, maybe even at risk, I still believe that eventually and who-knows-when, and maybe after a lot more death and destruction, people here might realize that killing solves nothing but a momentarily urge for revenge. It cuts life off at the stem and its bitter poison prevents anything green or blooming to emerge. Still, the human part of me understands that the lack of strong and moral leadership and a sense of being abandoned by those who are to provide security and protection, contributes to the growing movement to defend and attack the “other.”

Women took the lead again yesterday in a mass protest of violence. I did not see the march but heard it was peaceful as women, clad in black and holding green branches, took to the streets and marched to the Jos home of the state governor.

Nature almost always reminds me of the cycles and joys of the given life. Despite a dusty, dry and dirty landscape, the frangipani trees are sprouting new leaves, the hibiscus are showing off delicate, cherry-red blooms and the potted rose, which I cut back to just a stump is now prolifically blooming small, creamy white roses.

Living the Given Life

2011-01-17T20:38:00.004+01:00

“We live the given life, and not the planned.”

A friend started her Christmas letter with that quote by Wendell Berry. Since then I have breathed this truth over and over. And I am learning to trust that the Spirit of God is always embedded in what life hands us.

The life currently given us here is one where everyday routines have been disrupted by the Christmas Eve bombings and reprisal violence in various parts of Jos and outlying areas.

Last week we closed the MCC office, given the insecure situation, and did our best to work a little from home, while also hanging out with our children who did not return to school as scheduled and will not do so until at least February 1.

That's because the Federal Government declared all schools closed for voter registration scheduled for January 15-29. Evidently the government needs schools as venues to register voters and of course this edict also addresses potential security problems. Our kids have homework packets we picked up today so that they can learn from home, with a little parental supervision, for the next two weeks.

This week shops are markets are starting to re-open after a week of being mostly closed. This is true for the banks as well.

But still we wake up each morning to see how things are before setting a tentative schedule. Are the roads clear? Have we received any text messages warning us to avoid town or certain areas? What are our partners and friends telling us?

Where we live has never been directly affected; and so we are grateful for this compound, our neighbors and the ability to feel safe at home.

But as an organized and list-oriented person, the life given me - no ability to plan and carry through with any activity for certain - is a stretch. We simply can't have the meetings and work on the reports and follow through with our program as we anticipated and we don't know when we will be able to. Might be tomorrow, might be next month, might not be for a long time if trouble starts again.

And the intense jockeying for power and position that comes with state and presidential elections scheduled for April may foster more violence.

What centers and calms me is returning to what I believe we are here for and what MCC Nigeria is about. These statements are mine and not anything official from MCC. But saying them and living into them and what is given to us as Jos suffers serious violence only barely held in check by a huge military and police presence helps me focus and keeps me grounded when flying off in wearying worries would be a much easier alternative.

*As followers of Christ we boldly take stands against violence as a way to solve problems, address grievances and achieve political power. Even though it may look foolish, we believe that conflict can be transformed, that peaceful co-existence of diverse peoples is possible and preferable, that forgiveness and reconciliation is the way.

*Through our partners, and when possible, we seek to offer assistance to anyone regardless of religious or ethnic affiliation.

*We seek the prayers, wisdom and counsel from a wide variety of people.

*We honor our program commitments as best we are able and work at the pace of our partners who are deeply affected by what is happening in their communities.

*We stay in touch with administration and the wider MCC to insure support and guidance.

*We support all staff as best as we are able.

*We rely on the Spirit and not our own strength.

*We allow ourselves and others a special, fundamental, and loving grace during times of crisis.

*We recognize that serious and recurring crises like these provide the need for change in how we work and also wide-eyed assessment of the situation and MCC's involvements here.

*We practice flexibility, even when forced to be so flexible it hurts!

*We hold in creative tension the desire to love and protect our families and serve in sometimes risky situations.

MCC used to talk about the vitality of “presence ministry.” This is still important but more focus, it seems, is presently on improved planning, monitoring, reporting and evaluative processes. In other words, MCC is more results-oriented than it used to be. Careful stewardship of resources is important and constituents want to know how their donations are changing things for the better.

However, crises and and upset necessarily balances those results-based foci and brings us back to what is fundamental about how MCC works in the world – presence, and walking with and listening to and grieving with. Unfortunately, there are no instant or even forthcoming results to justify that kind of activity. And yet, knocking us out of that ever-present need to claim progress and results leads to humility and a kind of grace in itself.

Right now we are doing our best to live with others the given life, not the planned one. Despite fear, confusion and weariness, we are finding God's spirit and love dwelling here in and among us.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Jos in January 2011

2011-01-07T12:46:00.005+01:00

Greetings from Nigeria. Let me start by saying we and all of our MCC staff and their families are okay...not necessarily thriving, but okay.

I don't know how to write about what is happening here in Nigeria in a balanced way without causing alarm or sounding dramatic. Mark and I shuttle back and forth between a sense deep within us that we are called to live here at this time and the on-ground reality that everyday life is more and more precarious for residents of Plateau State and other parts of Nigeria.

And I'm aware that Nigeria is not on many people’s radar screen, and media coverage is certainly slim. For instance, the tragic bombing in Egypt is still being covered by major news sources, even though official death tolls are lower than what happened here.

But I do know that some people regularly check our blog and that many people hold us in thoughts and prayers, so here goes for an update.

On Christmas Eve, at least five bombs ripped through several parts of Jos. The areas targeted were filled with people doing last minute Christmas shopping, attending church services or sitting in restaurants. At least 30 people were immediately killed; the death count is now in the 80s as people succumb to critical injuries.

Many Christmas Day services were cancelled in various churches; including ours. Sunday (Boxing Day here) dawned calmly and we went to church, but later in the morning fighting and burning - the now typical reprisal attacks – ignited in various parts of Jos including Abbatoir, just several kilometers from our home. Despite all this we had several good outings or get togethers with friends.

Our family traveled to Abuja last Wednesday; the kids applied for new passports at the U.S. Embassy and then we stayed in a hotel for four days to get a little break; that was really nice. But on New Year’s Eve, another bomb blast hit a popular market in Abuja.

We are learning that perhaps here, perhaps now, there is nowhere safe to go. Safety may not be a physical space; one can only abide in spiritual safety, believing that the Spirit of God is with us, and we put our trust in such sacred mystery. Of course, I am imagining some of you protesting that certainly there are places safer than Nigeria, and I agree. I am just working to balance our sense of leading with new information that does cause us to re-assess and re-affirm our initial and ongoing choice to serve here.

Words are inadequate to describe the level of tension, fear, grief and insecurity that cloaks the lives of citizens here. Words also don't convey the deep faith and ability of our Nigerian friends to still "thank God" for all blessings, for surviving another day.

No one knows what might happen next; no one knows if the security forces are up to preventing more bloodshed, no one knows what the next three months preceding presidential and other elections scheduled for April is going to bring. Rumors abound, they sometimes diametrically oppose each other. Even calm, thoughtful people (myself included – not that I’m always calm and thoughtful!) are tempted to resort to identifying who the “enemies” are and dehumanizing them in conversation. I think this is a normal way to objectify our fear and rage and make them somehow more manageable; but it seems it can also contribute to the very violence we abhor.

So I am musing – what is the way of love and peace now? How do we support our staff and friends? What is possible for us at MCC during an active and ongoing crisis?

While people are definitely sleeping with one eye (or both eyes) open, and taking every possible precaution, life still does look more or less normal. The office is still here with plenty of work including year-end reporting and next year budgeting and planning. Our children are doing very well at home in this last week before school starts – if indeed school can safely start. I am happy to watch them dig into their creativity to find activities, including bugging each other!

I ask that you do breathe a prayer for the people and the future of this large, wonderful, noisy, crazy place called Nigeria. Pray especially for those in flashpoint communities where tensions are especially high. Please support us in being as wise and alert as possible, to be able to listen to all the warnings and information as well as the opposing scoffs of disbelief that things are reportedly as bad as they are. We are not sure what to believe but we are grateful for supervisors in MCC, friends and colleagues here and our wide and loving support system in North America.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

On Christmas and a Treasured Tradition

2010-12-07T10:05:00.005+01:00

About a month before Christmas, my innate impulse to create lists for the upcoming season kicks in. Those lists are testament to a fundamental need of mine – to at least have an illusion of control during a period of increased expectations and events – and include many worthwhile activities: buy and write cards, bake many varieties of special cookies, invite people over, attend special Christmas services at church and the kids' school, buy and give gifts, take a family photo, write a special blog....

However, these extra activities run parallel to everyday work and family life so it's no surprise that Christmas season often turns into a crazy season. And while my family members will resolutely state they love all the Christmas activities, it's me who assumes 90% of the responsibility for any Christmas planning and implementation.

This year I am doing a little better. I've scrapped organizing a family photo shoot– sorry to all of you just holding your breath for a new snapshot. :) My baking list is smaller. I'm working to listen more patiently to the still, small voice of the Spirit and am a little more thoughtfully wondering about each unspoken or spoken expectation that has previously made the holiday season an exercise in exhaustion instead of a celebration of God-with-us.

But I still cling to the ritual of sending at least some Christmas cards.

I might as well just slap an “old fogey” sticker on my forehead for saying this, but a cyber holiday e-card, email or Facebook message does not begin to rate to the thrill of holding a just-received paper envelope, of slicing it open to pull out the greeting, quick note and sometimes even a letter. We string our cards up on the back of the kitchen cupboards and at some point during the next year, I'll sit down and go through the basket they are moved to after the holidays – to read again all those warm wishes, many sent now across the Atlantic ocean.

And as I hand-address the cards that I'll send - entrusting them with someone traveling from Jos to the States for the holidays where they’ll drop my cards (hopefully) in a US Postal Service box – I breathe deep with gratitude and yes, some longing, for my friends and family back in the states.

Even after four years, and yes, it does feel that long and yes, we are starting to forget what snow and wool sweaters feel like, I'm amazed that so many friends have hung in there with us and are such a gracious and caring circle of support. Parents, siblings, and many extended relatives have also blessed our journey even as they miss us and relinquish the privilege of more frequent get-togethers. I am grounded in the reality that while my life has been full of transition, many of my friendships have endured decades.

And when I write cards for the MCC Nigeria employees, and local neighbors and friends here, I am also astonished at how many people we have come to know, love and appreciate. Not hundreds, certainly - my introverted nature couldn't handle that many friends - but enough to help me feel connected during our MCC term, to feel that we have rubbed shoulders and are living through some interesting, joyful and also difficult experiences with friends here in Nigeria.

Nigerians do not get hung up in all the complicated gyrations of holiday planning in the same way as Americans do. Admittedly, an occasional “supermarket” or radio station will blare sappy Christmas music, a few businesses will decorate their premises with shiny, foil ribbons, and the rare plastic Santa can even be sighted.

But Nigerian culture for those of the Christian faith, involves, as much as I have observed it, just several activities: worship in a church community - preferably with a brand new outfit - and feasting with family and friends. Christmas is a time to thank God for the gift of Jesus and to eat as well as one can afford in clothes that make one feel special and celebratory. I so appreciate that about Nigeria.

The expectations for hoopla and gifts and this and that are what western accoutrements I bring. This season I pray for the Nigerian spirit of communal gratitude and celebration for God-with-us to be borne more fully in me.

And if you read this and send a card, I promise we'll string it up and give thanks for you!

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Rotten Roads and the Fine Folks Who Must Tread Them

2010-11-23T08:24:00.007+01:00

Hyeladzira lives on one of the nastiest roads I've ever had the misfortune of being on. She'll say herself it's “the worst road in Jos.” To call it a road is to assign meaning to and an image of a thoroughfare where people and vehicles come and go. But this “road” is so full of deep ruts, mud and muck that it would more rightly be called “a filthy, messy snake-like passage where people ruin shoes, dent their car mufflers and pray for the dry season.”

Nevertheless, we took this road to visit Hyeladzira, our office secretary and receptionist. We've wanted to visit since she found a new place to live after fleeing the destruction of her community in Bukuru during the January 2010 crisis.

Hyeladzira's home, in a popular section of Jos considered safe from ethnic violence, is behind a high steel door and concrete block wall. She and her husband Ibrahim rent the bottom two-bedroom flat of a new duplex; the landlord lives above. The home's exterior hasn't been stucco'd yet and is still in rough block stage. But the interior is finished, neat and cheerful – a large sitting room, a small kitchen and storage room, and two bedrooms and a bathroom.

Hyeladzira's husband Ibrahim was home on several week's leave from his job as a special education teacher in Adamawa State. He's a native (an indigene, they call it here) of Adamawa State, about seven hours' away by car, and found employment there. Because of prevailing unwritten rules, it's been impossible to find a well paying job in his area of expertise here in Plateau State, where he is a non-indigene.

Ibrahim is a fine man, helping with the cooking, laundry and child care when he comes to Jos on leave. However, Hyeladzira, who works full-time, usually manages solo. This involves caring for the kids, cleaning, marketing, cooking meals from scratch and washing laundry by hand.

In addition, electricity is rationed about every other day there and clean water must be purchased.

Hyeladzira has many friends, a loving family, church community and a good job with benefits. But her burdens are still heavy. She carries them with honesty – not pretending life's easy – and with grace. Her previous work experience and intelligence have made her a valued employee for MCC and a year after hiring her, we can't imagine running the office without her quiet competence.

But she daily walks that awful road first to her mother's home where she leaves one-year-old Jerry, (Janet and John already off to school). Then she books a motorcycle taxi that carries her from the muddy road to better paved ones to the MCC office.

How she and her neighbors trudge down such a path without protesting or boycotting enmasse amazes my American self. Sometimes her children slip in the mud and Hyeladzira reports that then 4-year-old John will say, “Take me back to Bukuru!” where the roads were passable if not well maintained.

After our visit we returned to our own bumpy, but much less treacherous lane, the one we frequently grumble over. Suddenly there didn't seem to be much to complain about! As we walked up the steps to our front porch, Mark quietly said, “Back to our palace.”

We are easily frustrated by lack of electricity and running water, by the smell of offal burning from the abattoir behind us, or by some implement or appliance breaking. But everything is relative; while we live in what would clearly be called a modest home compared to our North American peers and family members, our dwelling place, including the road to it, is grand compared to what many colleagues, partners and friends have to put up with.

I'm glad I know where Hyeladzira lives even though I'm sobered by the awful condition of the road that wends its crazy way to her home and beyond.

As long as our family lives here to serve with MCC, I'll also dwell in the tension between the reality of my life and that of persons like Hyeladzira and her husband - who with steady decent-paying jobs are solidly middle class - but still must walk a slippery, mucky path here. Nigeria, the sixth largest producer or crude oil, continues to under-produce when it comes to basic services and infrastructure for many of its citizens. This makes life and not just the roads messy and treacherous.

(This essay is posted with the blessing of Hyeladzira (hyel-ad-zeera))

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder
co-representative, MCC Nigeria

Our Girl Turns 12

2010-11-13T12:02:00.007+01:00

I know, I know, I'm way tardy. Her birthday was in October!

Our children celebrate their birthday with parties only every two years. On the odd year we celebrate as a family, cooking favorite foods or eating out. The kids savor these less frequent shindigs with their friends and spend more time carefully planning them.

Enough explaining. So, Val had her 12th birthday party several weeks ago. All the girls from her 7th grade class showed up except one who was attending a wedding. So did two of her better friends from 6th grade. The house was full of female energy.

We'd asked Rachel, a missionary in Jos who LOVES kids (and was Val's 4th grade teacher) to plan and implement all the games. She showed up with her fun-loving husband so we got double for our money (okay, just a thank you gift certificate to a restaurant). They led the girls from one relay or game to the next. Ever chomp a pretzel hanging from a washline and blowing in the wind? Detect who's changing the rhythm in a room of clapping girls? Dip your head in a bowl of flour looking for the prized candy? You get the point.

Mark and I were the logistics and supply team – stocking the kitchen with cold water, bringing out game supplies, and trying to make sure Greg and his buddy David Jason didn't get too obnoxious with the water balloons....

Pizza, popcorn, sodas (called minerals here) and home baked vanilla cake with ice cream kept blood sugar levels high. Valerie received cool gifts. The parents came and picked up their girls; although “almost young women” describes them better. Mark and I collapsed. Val won the day – a well planned party, fun with friends and a new cell phone besides. Got credit?

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

As Mangoes to the Fire

2010-10-28T12:27:00.003+01:00

Greetings this sunny Thursday. This blog seems a fitting place to tell those interested about my newest published article in the Fall 2010 issue of DreamSeeker Magazine. The link is on the right of this blog screen.

And while I don’t think he saw this piece, a big thanks to George, who serves not only as our power-of –attorney and keeper of our accounts, but also provides invaluable critique and feedback to much of my writing, all of it pro bono.

Burkina Faso and Back

2010-10-24T17:22:00.005+01:00

Whew, jettisoning across Africa to Burkina Faso via Ethiopia (look on a map and understand why this is so counter-intuitive) is exhausting. Heaving heavy suitcases up onto security conveyor belts, submitting to body and baggage searches, sitting in often non-air-conditioned airports and being squashed into planes meant to pack as many people as possible into a long tube of piped air is really not all that exotic. Neither is that four to five hour car road from Jos to Abuja and back I've mentioned probably way too often in this blog.

Don't get me wrong; we all know it's really great that every 6-12 months our family is able to visit other African countries. We've seen bits of South Africa, Rwanda, the Democratic Republic of Congo and now Burkina Faso; and I went solo to Ghana. Flying to these countries for MCC meetings means we get a break from the sometimes mundane routine of life in Jos to connect with others who work in on-the-field leadership and have the chance to understand a little bit more about human diversity and commonalities.

Both our long road trips and all four of our flights were more or less on schedule. After flying to Addis Ababa and staying overnight on Saturday, compliments of Ethiopian Airlines, our second flight touched down in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso's capital last Sunday. We stood for a good hour in gritty dust on the floor of a hot, under-construction airport, working to fill out visa applications, getting snapshots taken for them and retrieving baggage. Then we traveled just out of the city to Loumbila Beach, a lovely little retreat center on the edge of a reservoir. Air conditioned bedrooms and meeting space and delicious French food in an open-air (read very warm) restaurant, along with a swimming pool meant that we were well taken care of during four days of meetings with other MCC representatives, our Africa area director, regional associate director and regional peace advisor.

These gatherings take copious amounts of logistical coordination but thanks to the this meetings hosts, Ginny and Levy, everyone was well taken care of. The kids had child care during our meetings, although the young girls hired all got sick necessitating some creativity and eventually a replacement.

Regional MCC representative meetings allow us to share concerns, challenges and joys with others doing the same kind of work, hear about changes from headquarters as MCC moves through a major process to restructure, and share strategic plans during difficult economic times. For me, the major challenge is how to stay prayerfully centered and focused on our strategic planning processes while also remaining flexible in light of impending but uncertain changes as MCC changes its leadership structure in North America. I think it is fairly safe to say that no one really understands just what lies ahead with these changes; but we want to trust that commitment to sharing Christi's love through peace building, humanitarian relief and sustainable community development remains at the very heart of MCC's core.

We also get to do some fun stuff during these meetings, like visiting a local MCC partner to see how funding a dam and sustainable farming projects have led to whole villages improving their food supply by dry season water supply and researching and learning from basic scientific methods for increasing farm yields. An afternoon trip to see where the representatives live, the local MCC office followed by a few hours in an artisan's village helped us learn a little bit more about MCC here and local handcrafts. I went just a little bit crazy over the gorgeous loom-woven cloth that Burkina Faso artisans are so well known for.

Valerie turned 12 during the week as did her friend Sarita, daughter of Ginny, and they enjoyed some presents and a rich chocolate cake, along with David, who will turn two in another week. Val still gets to cash in her gift certificate for a cell phone of her own and also is planning a birthday party next weekend with the 7th grade girls in her class.

So, here we are, back in Jos, having reversed the two flights over two days process. ]ust one of us in the family so far seems to have brought home more than the Burkinabe handcrafts and Ethiopian coffee; intestinal bugs travel well and multiply rapidly in a tummy that takes in food from unknown origins. I miss the early morning swimming but treasured the ritual of quiet time back in the guest room this morning. After nine days of no internet access, we're back online, a little regretfully so as e-mail has a way of reminding you that the stack back in the office is growing. The kids return to school tomorrow; our travel coincided with their October school break and there were no boring days! (Unless you count those few hours on the plane when The Karate Kid showed for the third time.)

We were glad to go; we're equally happy to be home. Take a trip to our photo gallery for some photos.

by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Nigeria Turns 50

2010-10-01T19:35:00.004+01:00

I do not want to think about the potential implications following car bombs exploding in Abuja today. Part of me, all of me, does not want to go there mentally, so I won’t.

Today is Nigeria’s 50th Independence Day, having been granted independence in 1960 from Great Britain. So, once again, offices and schools are closed for a major holiday and I must say it’s nice to have a three-day weekend, especially as October is chock full of good but stressful stuff, like meetings with MCC administrators from the USA, a partnership gathering, travel to Burkina Faso (via Ethiopia – how crazy is that for a route?) for meetings, and a daughter turning 12 who is planning a party…

Yesterday Hillcrest’s Student Council led a celebratory chapel. They started with some of the stereotypes and unfortunate realities; but quickly shifted to what makes Nigeria special –the incredibly diverse mix of cultures; the rich, spicy, fragrant food; music and the arts, etc. Since the school’s population is at least 60% Nigerian much cheering, whooping and applauding filled the chapel; Nigerians are proud of the things that make this country unique. A fashion show highlighted this diversity and a group of women who meet regularly to pray for Hillcrest led in a song that changed languages about five times.

Well, those were the highlights - oh and the speeches were brief and encouraging - and it was fun to be there, to be washed in that “feel good” sensation and grateful that we live here, despite all the things that make it difficult to do so. But I am not going there today….

The rest of the morning the kids had celebratory activities and everyone was supposed to bring Nigerian food. Val’s teacher said that American cookies were just fine; Greg took zobo, a delicious red drink made from dried yekwa leaves and ginger. Thanks to Mama Lydia for both offerings; I could certainly have baked the cookies if time allowed but I do not try to create Nigerian food.

The kids got out at noon and when I went to find Greg I was surprised to see all of the elementary classes having a GREAT picnic with parents eating all that fantastic Nigerian food that the moms had cooked. Familiar guilt because I had not made it to another school event when the place was flooded with parents (mostly moms – hey where are the dads?) hit me but we really are very busy at work these days.
Then today I discovered a note on Greg’s bedroom desk stating, “Dear parents: please join us for a picnic…..” a note that never reached us, so how could we go if we didn't know?

This morning kids and I made almost 50 vanilla cupcakes with white frosting; then Val wrote a green 50 on them and they took them around and shared them with our compound neighbors. And that seemed to be enough celebrating for today. Greg is already asking if we can make red, white and blue cupcakes when we get back to the states "for good," in some far off year. Until then we'll celebrate with Nigeria.

It's Rented! Shucks!

2010-09-16T11:39:00.004+01:00

Okay, so I've been mentioning to almost everyone I know back home and plenty of people here that our house in Syracuse has been sitting empty for two-plus months. I've jotted this need in my prayer journal and know that family and friends have joined us in prayer. And while glad we have the means, I gulped and worried when we had to pay the mortgage out of our savings account for the past months.

So why did my anxiety crescendo like the rain that hits our roof every night when the email arrived from our power-of-attorney telling us the place is rented? Not only rented but rented into 2012 when we plan to return to the states!

We have a great rental property manager who is more than generous to us in terms of his fees and services. We have a terrific power-of-attorney who smoothly handles our financial business and seems to actually enjoy it. Between these two folks we've had very few worries about our affairs back home as we live abroad. I knew our neat little home would eventually find a tenant.

I'm committed to living here and I even really like living here, not to mention that Nigeria is clearly where the Spirit of God has nudged us to be. And I'm glad someone else wants to live in our home and is moving in.

But if they do, I clearly can't.

And that is at the root of the sadness that surfaces when I think about that cozy little colonial on a welcoming street in the heart of a city we've grown fond of. When I remember what it was like to renovate the place and live there and walk with the kids to the library or park or take a short drive to the swimming pool, supermarket or drugstore. When I remember my friends who faithfully stay in touch and will be there when we return in two years. When I think of our progressive church and how right it felt to belong and to be encouraged to freely explore what I believe. When I remember the joy and sense of closeness to the Creator’s earth while planting perennials and eating our own vegetables.

Sometimes anxiety points to painful or poignant (and obvious) truths: I can't live in two places at the same time even while part of me is always bridging the several places I call home. I can't go back and live in my home for almost two more years and this is good because we're in the middle of important, meaningful and challenging work here.

And here my little flower garden is thriving and the just-planted arugula, basil, dill and super-sweet cherry tomatoes are yet to be discovered by hungry insects. And here church means finally knowing the names of other members, joyful praise and dancing even while some of my beliefs are different from those stated from the pulpit. And here are growing cross-cultural friendships that feed my soul. Here our family thrives and our kids are happy. And here we live in a place where violence has wracked a resilient city, but kindness, courage and hope are equally strong. Here we are given opportunity to grow in trust of God and believe that reconciliation and respectful co-existence are possible no matter what the odds.

The anxiety is quieting down now, the sadness a good part of who I am. Living here is really, really good. Returning, I hope will be equally as satisfying. In the meantime, I wish the new folks moving in a smooth transition as they have chosen to make our home theirs.

Hope Prevailing

2010-08-28T08:27:00.005+01:00

Back in Nigeria almost a month, we're in the thick of sorting through emails, facing unaddressed or waiting issues and trying to keep up with everyday tasks. We feel the hole left by our service worker family who returned to Northern America this summer, ending their term after two years of faithful service to the people of Nigeria. We understand that while Plateau State has been relatively quiet, violent skirmishes, especially in rural areas, still happen. We're moving, slowly and steadily, I think, into the challenge of working with mentors, partners, our team and supervisor to move our program into the peace building focus we've been talking about for several years.

Here's a menagerie of experiences we've had and thoughts I've been sitting with since we landed back in Nigeria. They are not in any particular order nor should they be seen as anything but the jottings of an American who, after 3 ½ years living here in Nigeria, still gets frustrated by certain things (minor in the scheme of eternity) and who, at sometimes brief intervals, is also joyful, prayerfully hopeful and grateful.

Darkness: After several days back in Jos, the power went off for more than 36 hours. A period of fairly predictable (6-8 hours a day) power followed. We finally succeeded in installing a pre-paid meter which allows us to pay for the electricity we actually consume versus what the electricity company estimates. (Detailing the hoops we had to jump through and “appreciation” gifts we had to pay could take another blog entry – but it has been a good experience in learning more about Nigerian culture and how, steady and honest many of our local technicians are, despite corporate corruption.) But the pre-paid card failed to work so we went dark again. Then the electricity company went on strike nation-wide, and while the strike is now over, we're still working on fixing the pre-paid meter. I am forced to remember, once again, that we can't store too much in the fridge or even the freezer unless I am willing to turn on the noisy, fume-belching generator or let things spoil. We're forced to eat much of our cooked food within 24 hours, which is what many of the world citizens do all the time.

Things breaking: Four cars sit in the MCC House parking lot. (Why we have four cars is another blog entry – the guilty sense of wealth I carry wants to explain.) When we returned from home leave we learned that only one vehicle was really working. Clutch failure in one, brakes soft in another and power steering challenges in the third. Mark's computer quickly crashed for a second time and we're wondering why we didn't buy another work computer while in the states versus assume that it was fixed. The locks on our front door refused to work – this is at least the third time – so we had another cylinder installed and now we have new keys again. The alarm on our security system broke and our generator is starting to show signs of declining health and old age. The inverter which fuels a back-up lighting system failed. All of this in just three weeks. And this is entirely normal. Good parts and products are difficult to find.

Joy: The kids started school! Whoopee – we are ALL happy about this, even though each new year is met with a certain healthy mix of trepidation and excitement. Our 9-year tradition of snapping the kids on their first day of school is here for your viewing pleasure. Val heads into 7th grade with greater middle school confidence and a good friendship base. Greg is in 3rd grade and so far reports more fun at recess since not “all” the boys play football, a sport he proclaims to hate.

My new part-time job: I'm an editor now. Greg, our sometimes prolific writer, wrote a four chapter novelette and I nailed the editorial contract. It pays really well – with broad smiles from a young son who gets it, who says, “Oh yeah, what DID I mean when I wrote that? I'll have to make it clearer.” to my questions. I read with awe what grows from his wild and descriptive imagination.

Rain: We go from days when the drizzle, downpour and darkness prompt us to put on warm sweaters and socks to blue skies full of puffy white clouds and perfect, low-70's temperature. The sweet and regular potatoes, cassava and groundnuts planted by our neighbors are looking great. Roasted corn is sold by the roadside. People are slowly refilling their stores for another year....

Hope: One of our partners came in to chat the other day. She and another friend of MCC's will soon be traveling to Accra, Ghana to attend the West Africa Peace Institute (WAPI) and is excited about this MCC-sponsored activity. Since the organization she directs is located in one of the areas recently devastated by the January violence she understands at a gut level that reconciliation and some kind of rebuilding is absolutely essential in order to help ensure the safety of her organizations's literacy and income generation activities.

So she and another trusted community elder have slowly, prayerfully, gently started bringing Christian and Muslim youth together to brainstorm ideas and chart a way forward toward possible reconciliation. Since massive unemployment is a major problem here, she dreams of developing (with careful consultation and advice from wise mentors) a youth program that brings Muslim and Christian youth together for income generation training and support and possibly micro-loans to launch activities that earn income, promote cooperation and build pride in this part of Jos once again.

Despite darkness and things breaking, our prayers are always that relationships and neighborhoods can be restored and rebuilt. Our prayers are always that joy and hope may prevail.

Sad News with MCC

2010-08-12T11:16:00.004+01:00

Early this week, we learned of the death of an MCC worker in Afghanistan, one of the ten ambushed and killed while returning from a medical trip.

Please keep the family of Glenn Lapp and the others killed in your prayers, the agency where they worked, and MCC as an organization. A tragic death shakes us up and prompts us to re-examine who we are, what we do, why we do it and the risks we take. This is a terribly sad time for the family and friends of these ten people who consistently lived their faith with action – who served in the some of the most difficult terrain and circumstances and found joy and peace in their acts of love.

MCC sent a prayer from the special service held at MCC Bi-National offices.

“We are this treasure in clay jars; at the same fragile and strong, cracked but whole, empty and full; Christ has no body on earth but ours. We are the hands with which Christ can do his work; ours are the feet with which Christ can go about this world; ours the eyes through which Christ's compassion can shine forth upon a troubled world. Christ has no body on earth but ours. Gracious God, take our treasures in clay jars and use them as you would. Open our hearts and minds to your will to help others see as we have seen, to understand as we have understood. Bless Glen's family, friends the IMA staff and families affected by this violence - let the world see what we have seen - let this violence not fuel further violence, but plant the seeds of peace. Gracious God, help us this day and the days to come. Amen.”

Back to Jos

2010-08-05T14:36:00.000+01:00

On Monday, the view from the descending Lufthansa jet - a verdant mix of carpeted rocky terrain and patches of crops - reminded me that parts of Nigeria in parts of the year are lovely and lush. It’s much better to land in Abuja during rainy season than in the dusty all-tan terrain of dry season.

Plus, all our luggage arrived and two young men loaded it on carts and took it out to the van and driver waiting for us, thanks to Matthew, our colleague.

Still, when Andrew, the driver, used his horn in busy rush hour traffic more times in the first five minutes of travel out of Abuja than I'd used one in the entire 2 ½ month home leave, I was reminded, once again, that home for us here is a different world than the one we'd just visited.

I know this blog has seen no action since early May when we were preparing to leave for the USA. Good intentions to write about our visits and journey were only that; intentions that were quickly smothered by a desire and choice to enjoy the real thing rather than write about it.

Home leave was like collecting intricate, smooth, sun-warmed shells on a sandy beach. Each visit with parents, siblings, nieces and nephews, friends and old acquaintances is a shell I want to hold close, a memory I pocket so that now, back in Nigeria, I won't forget the beauty of that beach, of walking briefly but intentionally with loved ones in the states for a short while.

But, if you're interested, here is a brief rundown -

May 15-29

Arrived in Dulles then on to Grottoes, near Harrisonburg, Virginia. Mark and I attended one session of Eastern Mennonite University's Summer Peacebuilding Institute while Grandma and Grandpa Souder got reacquainted with Valerie and Greg and had some wonderful times together. I thoroughly enjoyed my class: Philosophy and Praxis of Forgiveness and Reconciliation but like the mouthful it is to say, it is a lot to chew and digest. Mark also enjoyed his class, Building Healthy Organizations.

On the second day in the states Mark met a rescue squad vehicle in an unfortunate manner – the rescue squad sheared off the front driver's side of Mark's parents' car – totaling it. This was to be the vehicle we borrowed for a bunch of the home leave, plus Mark's parents didn't have collision coverage on it. Well, to be brief – Mark, charged with failure to yield to an emergency vehicle – fought the charge by showing up in court almost two months later and was pleased that the judge agreed with him and dismissed the case. Still, the worry and anger of being unjustly accused took a lot of Mark's emotional energy and we sincerely regret the $2500 the repairs cost his parents bore. In addition and MCC chalked up an additional expense – a rental car!

May 29-June 11

Back to our beloved Syracuse, New York. Rented a house for two months so we had a base camp; it was right beside the first home we ever owned, the one we lovingly renovated back in the mid-90s. But it's okay – we sold that house in order to begin our first MCC term and in the process of letting go of that home were given the gifts of enjoying oversees work and welcoming Valerie to our family after years of infertility. What's a house compared to that? :)

Spent time visiting with our dear friends there, going to MANY doctor appointments – grateful for the clean bill of health given to all of us - and started to buy the things we need (or think we need) for two more years in Nigeria.

June 11-June 25

Traveled to Wayne County, Ohio, where I grew up. A four-day family reunion at Mohican State Park Resort provided walking, hanging out, game-playing and swimming space for all of my immediate family members including my first great-niece Verona. Before and after the reunion we stayed at my sister's spacious home and spent as much time as we could with my parents. Took some fantastic day trips. Do check out Warthers Museum if you are ever near Dover, Ohio. Ate too much yummy food. More shopping, Visited with my 106-year old grandmother who, despite now being mostly in a wheelchair, is alert and perky and going strong.

June 25 – July 8

An eight hour trip from Ohio to Bergton, Virginia for a Souder family reunion turned into a ten and a half hour trip due to a MapQuest mistake and a befuddled spouse , yours truly, who doesn't read maps all that well. Still, we got to the Red Oak Lodge at Highland Retreat in time for supper and shared two full days with most of the Mark's immediate family – a family that is growing with three great-nieces and two more little great-nephews on the way. Hiking, swimming, did I mention eating?, games and catching-up were the highlights. Spend the rest of this two week stint at the delightful ranch home of our nephew Jesse. He and his wife were on a 7-week bike trip and we enjoyed having our own space and the fantastic view of Massanutten Peak from their back yard. Mark took the kids hiking up his own backyard Furnace Mountain, we spent lovely evenings with siblings, and ate more tremendous food.

July 9-11

Back to Syracuse to a stifling house in 100 degree heat to do laundry and prepare the kids for a week of Beaver Camp in the Adirondack Park

July 11-16

Mark and I worked at and directed Beaver Camp from 1985-89. While worried how they would actually do for five days and nights away from us; they dived in and came up swimming! They loved it. Meanwhile, we sunk into some relative freedom and great rest at the riverside cottage of dear friends from those Beaver Camp years.

July 16-31

Back to Syracuse for final doctor appointments, shopping, visiting and enjoying the beauty of this little city – a place we've grown fond of through the years. Val and Greg attended a two-week theater circus camp just a short walk from our home. Not only was the camp stimulating, they also reconnected with some school/neighborhood friends. We took evening walks through our neighborhood and enjoyed an evening of fellowship with neighbors from our street. We hung out with friends who have hung in there with us through thick and thin. Mark spent several mornings cutting back the tremendous bush and perennial growth at the home we own. We are praying for a good renter as July was the first month it's been empty. We need a renter for obvious reasons...paying the mortgage!

August 1

Boarded a plane from Syracuse, and three flights and a four hour road trip later, we were safe and sound back in Jos. It's raining or dripping or drip-drying pretty much all of the time. Lydia made pounded yam and egusi stew for supper and the kids went out to greet their neighbor friends and are already scheduling play dates with school friends and well, here we go, by God's grace for another two years.

One Foot (or Half a Heart) on Two Continents

2010-05-04T12:45:00.004+01:00

Soon we’ll be driving toward Abuja, praying for safe passage on that sometimes treacherous road, and then flying out by night to Frankfurt and eventually Washington D.C. Well, we’ll be doing that if the volcanic ash stays far north!

The kids are counting the days and giddy with excitement even while they love school and life here. I’m happy home leave is coming but glad it’s still some days off. There’s plenty of wrap-up-before-departure to attend to, even though “wrapping things tidily up” is a comforting illusion, not reality. Better to say, Mark and I are focusing on the most important work priorities, grateful we can depend on our colleague Matthew and others to carry things along in our absence.

Focus is not exactly the right verb. Splintered attention might better describe my state. Through all of our daily activity now runs the thread of knowing we’ll shortly be leaving here to arrive on our home continent. America resides in my bones while life in Nigeria fills my head and even my heart, if I dare divide my body up in such a way! But after 3 ½ years away and two years since our last visit, my passport country now seems a strange and disconcerting place.

Where things work, where a power outage is an anomaly.

Where roads are smooth and traffic rules are (mostly) obeyed and people die much less frequently in senseless crashes.

Where water is drinkable.

Where for awhile we can leave the malaria pills in their bottles and forget about amoebas, giardia and typhoid.

Where ATM machines, cool libraries, musky-sweet coffee shops, packed-full bookstores, parks and sidewalks are common. Sidewalks!

Where life buzzes with technology and productivity at a pace I no longer know much about.

Where I will shop unhindered by trailing sales girls or eager men who push products in my face as if they know what I need.

Where we can partake in raspberries, peaches, plums, pears, strawberries, broccoli, arugula, feta
cheese, sweet, crisp red peppers, and fresh, not reconstituted, milk!

Where grocery stores hold a selection of breakfast cereals that can only be described as dizzying.
Where we might run into people from our former life, people whose names I may no longer remember.

Where I imagine people will get that look in their eyes when we mention we live in Nigeria, (that African country of bottomless corruption, oil woes and a growing penchant for violence, insecurity and general unrest!) people who secretly think you are really, really dumb even while they may profess admiration.

Where our parents, family members and friends whom we see only once every two years for just a few weeks at a time want to milk every possible drop of presence and may fight to push away fears that maybe next time we won’t be so fortunate to make it back...

Where we have to face head-on a life truth – that the sadness of what we left behind is always mingled, always present in what we gained when we chose a long-term assignment in Nigeria

So it’s no wonder that we’re distracted as Val marks off the calendar days and we get nearer to home leave. Because as crazy and difficult as life is here, it’s our life now. We’re used to it; and while I cannot always say I love it, I do relish the challenges and opportunities living here brings. I am still even energized by the assignment of shaping and leading MCC Nigeria’s small program in this vast, populous country of trouble and woe. I continue to be held here by some pull from somewhere, someone I call God.

We plan to enjoy every possible moment of our time visiting our loved ones in the USA and partaking of things readily available and life, which at least for a two and a half month visit, seems easier. The joy of the visit, I know from last home leave, will also be suffused with fatigue, sadness and disorientation.

But at this point, not knowing the future, it's just that, a visit, an oasis, an intermission, a vacation, and most of all a chance to connect with so many of you who have loved us through and made possible this difficult and exhilarating assignment in Nigeria.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Quirkiness and Clarity

2010-04-22T10:25:00.007+01:00

Greg came into the guest room where I have quiet time early this morning and said he needed to stay home from school as he is running a slight fever. He does not act very sick and he has recently been complaining about having steady friends, feeling isolated and alone, so I assume that is part of the mix.

Greg has always been his own quirky, lovable person but in second grade this awareness of self as different feels lonely and scary. He “hates” soccer, THE sport of Nigeria, and at lunch and recess that is what all the other boys play. So he walks around the perimeter of the field acting out his stories, a kid talking to himself and pretending to ignore the others but acutely sensitive to his exclusion.

On the other hand, Greg has taken on basketball as his sport and heads out almost every night, first to pick up one of the older Rakun boys or his almost-twin Jeremiah and younger brother Ephraim, then to the compounds’ chipped and cracked court where they dribble, shoot, run and have what seems a grand time. Greg can make friends with almost anybody. The other day we were eating lunch with Nigerian friends. After he’d eaten, Greg slipped out of their house and hooked up with several boys who spent the visit teaching him deft magic tricks – like how to make a pebble disappear.

As a mother, I’m at a loss to know what to do to help my boys’ anguish at being different, yet being so at home in others ways in his skin and so gifted at writing, reading, learning and asking existential and scientific questions I have no answer to. I ache to see his loneliness, but I know that while school peers can be brutal, these class mates seem merely indifferent. They don’t necessarily make fun of Greg but they eye him as a strange species rather than one of their own, I think. I doubt they know quite what to do with him.

At any rate, he does have a small fever and he is home today. This changes my “Thursday at home to work and write” routine and after many times of poking his head through the door to ask questions, Greg is now situated out here in the office with me, frequently punctuating my concentration with questions like, “If actors have glasses but glasses aren’t part of their role in a movie, what do they do?” (Answer: contact lens) I am doing my best to go with the flow here, to treasure this boy sitting cross-legged on the wooden chair, still in his blue and orange pajamas and writing a chapter of his book called “Surrounded by Flames.” How fitting for this part of Nigeria now.

Reprisal killings in Plateau State continue. I really don’t know how much to write because I know it will sound so foreign to everyone. Today a news article talked about seven bodies exhumed from a shallow grave about 40 kilometers from here; it’s suspected that some of the murdered are simply people who were traveling through and got caught in the violence.

These stories come with such regularity they are sadly becoming normal. We are numbed to the horror.

The other day one of our partners came in to sign her annual memorandum of understanding between MCC and her organization. She lives in an outlying village from Jos and the general feelings of peace have vanished. What dominates now is lack of trust, looking over one’s shoulder and sleeping only lightly at night. The men of her village rotate keeping guard all night long. Her next door neighbor’s husband vanished a month ago…driving out one morning on his cycle and not seen since. With four small children this wife and mother must return to her meager paying job of about $40 a month. Stricken with grief she’s finding it hard to do so.

This MCC partner would like to start addressing the needs of deeply traumatized women – she says she knows at least one hundred – who are widowed or bereaved in some way, or have lost their homes, their possessions, their jobs, mostly to these rounds of conflict. We hope MCC can help her get a start on that. But with the conflict still active, more women, more humans will keep getting traumatized.

There is no end in sight and no action from the government that says, “Enough. We are putting a stop to this. We need your help. This is how we are going to do it.” Maybe some action is not possible.

Writing has been like crawling up a steep hill when you don’t know why you are climbing it or what is at the peak. Maybe a bad metaphor but words, trying to articulate what is happening here and even sitting down to put neat, active sentences together seems unimportant, trivial, even a waste of precious energy.

One good thing I can say about living here during this period in Plateau State’s history – is that the truly important crystallizes.

Knowing as we do now that we do not know what tomorrow holds, and that our life here is changing, perhaps forever, and that our very friends and colleagues are at risk in this conflict, has helped me boil my life down to the absolutely essential.

I am no longer so interested in petty arguments. I want to resolve conflicts with others as best I can because life is too precious to feed antagonism. I want to do my best to stand in solidarity with others. I want to get back to the states to visit family and friends whom I haven’t seen for two years.

My family is more precious and the quiet moments like after supper, when the kids have done the dishes and we are getting ready for bed – Val on the couch with a book, Greg on his dad’s lap with Harry Potter and me puttering around, cleaning up the counters and readying the coffee for the next day. Now I stop more frequently and silently say, “This is joy. How very lucky I am.”

The priorities of my work are also becoming clearer and more urgent – to be a presence, a witness for peace, a supporter of organizations skilled in interethnic or interfaith dialogue, trauma healing, advocacy, relief, social justice, conflict resolution. To learn at a head and a heart level what that really means. Letting go of other, less important tasks is more of a “no brainer” now. And if I am going to lead a program, then I have to work for peace within myself, between myself and others and learn more about forgiveness and grace and acceptance.

Well, Greg turned in his chair to ask questions numerous times and my peace witness is a little tested. He is not very sick, as I’ve mentioned before, and he is frustrated with the computer, a used Mac we just bought because my beloved old Mac finally crashed. He's working on an eight-book series – in the rough imitation of the Harry Potter books. He is often up by 6 am to sit at his little table in his bedroom and write. He designs splashy covers for his books which he proudly displays but will not let us read his first drafts.

Me, I’m just trying to keep my fingers a little bit limber on the keyboard, not knowing why I write or where it might lead or if I’ll ever have the nerves and time and skill to get another essay published but still somehow, needing to put words to page. Getting published is far less important than bearing witness to how our friends are “bearing up” during this unstable time, clearing away the clutter of the inessential to treasure the important, and now to preparing my not-very-sick son a snack.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Clouds Hopeful and Uncertain

2010-04-10T10:03:00.003+01:00

For months now we’ve endured skies the color of a graying yellow sheet, harmattan dust settling on every surface, the smell of dry dirt thick in our nostrils.

But now, the air is pregnant with moisture, sticky-warm, and cirrus smudges dot the skies, bluer now and heavy with promise but also uncertainty.

News bulletins are sent through the mission community’s e-list and there is a new one almost every day:

"Two hacked to death in this village"

"Handmade bomb accidentally denoted before its “proper” time in that suburb, youth loses both hands"

"Herdsmen with weapons found hiding in the bush"

"Youth of one side accosted by youth of the “other” side; security in that neighborhood increased"

"Car intercepted on a main road, ammunition and automatic rifles confiscated"

"Man thought to be a suicide bomber snatched at a college campus, several students killed when the military arrive…."

A wide-scale, well-funded and committed determination and plan supported by all levels of government is most needed here. The government, with grass-roots participation and support, could select organizations and community leaders best equipped to help build a workable peace and together with these experts draft and begin a way forward.

I see no evidence that is happening but perhaps I am looking in the wrong places, reading the wrong newspapers. I continue to hear that forces initiated, powered and paid for by prominent shadow figures and condoned by top leaders long ago began an agenda of domination here, that recent rounds of violence are calculated efforts to move this agenda forward. I do not know what is exactly truth.

But even without an adequate and long-term governmental response, a no-frills effort on the part of individuals and NGOs who believe peace is possible is at work. And they don’t get many headlines, but here is one in long-time missionary Danny McCain’s blog: http://dannymccain.blogspot.com/

I am supposed to be leading an organization whose key value and focus is peace building but I am so caught up in running an office, responding to demands, requests and inquiries, working to support international and national staff and our Nigerian partners and parenting – all of this important work - that I do not have time, have not taken the time to learn about the hopeful heart of the opposition. The loving opposition who, with integrity, grit and skill, bring traditional and religious leaders together, Muslim and Christian youth together, people of split communities together and build trust, understanding and agreement step by tiny step.

MCC, in small ways, through several partners is part of that. As we continue to move our program to view all our work through a peace building lens, we could with listening, learning, discernment and most of all time needed to plan, be part of supporting a wider peace effort in parts of Plateau State. I have no illusions of saving Plateau State; in fact I am not sure that any peace work will keep anger and determination to attack or counter-attack at bay. Sometimes it seems that this area is surrounded by growling wolves and it is only the brave and tireless efforts of some who continue to work for and hold out hope for peaceful resolution that keep the wolves from attacking and devouring the communities and villages here.

Soldiers and police riddle the land like holes in Swiss cheese, stomping out daily fires of conflict or violence, but doing little to decrease bitterness and rage. Imagine if we had as many skilled peace builders on the Plateau, led by confident, honest, grass-root supported and well-trained leaders and and a courageous government.

I hate to say that today I do not feel very hopeful. Perhaps I am spending too much time reading those news releases and not enough time learning what peace builders are doing, what even MCC could be doing in partnership and collaboration with others.

I have brain fog; my mind and body have been put on hyper-alert too many times lately. Our contingency plans are in place, business, school and banks continue to function and we are still, according to assessments, at relatively low-risk.

But uncertainty hangs like the clouds growing now to the east of our home. I love the rainy season, its violent cleansing rains, the way it slows life down because walking or driving in the deluge of water is impossible, the way the trees and flowers wear vibrant coats and the earth is coated with grass and the farm ridges sprout the promise of potatoes, corn, yams, and grains. But this rainy season, no one knows if mere rain or more violence will drench what used to be a quiet, diverse and yet peaceful land.

Several other new articles about Jos and Plateau State:

NPR: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=125683485

The Economist: http://www.economist.com/world/middle-east/displaystory.cfm?story_id=15860372#the_beleaguered_muslims_of_jos

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

EASTER 2010

2010-04-04T14:27:00.009+01:00

The sandy loam is parched, littered with bits of garbage, a brown carpet tufted with dead grass.

But behind the house, I drink the sweet scent of creamy-white orange blossoms and discover tiny fruits.

We drive to church. We gather. Charred remains of homes and businesses still loom over the now patched wall surrounding the church.

We dance with the youth singing group… one must give in and move to this irrepressible beat.

Ah that our jubilation could call forth resurrection to this neighborhood.

Still, along the rutted road, a tailoring shop has re-opened and a veiled woman rests against an abandoned wall and sells snacks. An old man responds to our greeting.

by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Easter Weekend

2010-04-03T09:54:00.001+01:00

Creamy carrot soup, made from carrots with unusual depth to their color and sweetness. Bread made from Mama Lydia’s confident, gentle hands. Yogurt made in quart jars and kept (mostly) cool in the fridge. Simple nourishing food that sustains. This is what I need these days of uncertainty, fragile hope, and too much work to attend to before we leave Nigeria for two and a half months of study and home leave. I need time to rest, write, eat and be with people I love. We are partaking of these blessings this April Easter weekend, and I hope that our home leave, beginning next month, will offer such sweet and simple fare as well.

March 26-31 we were out at Miango Retreat Center with our supervisor and MCC representatives from Burundi/Rwanda, DR Congo, Burkina Faso and Chad. We shared, engaged in frank discussions, listened and supported each other. With so much change in MCC structures, the uncertain climate in Nigeria and the workload of this particular role, I’m grateful for this time together, even though, as always, it means significant travel time for most of us, since traveling around Africa usually involves a series of flights, layovers, and seriously silly routes though countries that aren’t remotely close to how the crow would fly. Last year we were in Rwanda, in October we’ll be in Burkina Faso. This time we just traveled an hour.

Val and Greg, along with the other MCC kids were welcomed heartily by the caregivers and families of Wycliffe who held their annual retreat at the same time as our meetings. It was perfect for them, and we’re grateful too for Deborah and Sarah, two high school students here who helped with the littler kids.

At our church’s Good Friday service yesterday morning, the lay preacher brought Luke 23: 50-56 to life. He spoke of Joseph of Arimathea and the courage that led him to dissent to the decision of other Jews to kill Jesus and his boldness in asking for Jesus’ body. And this quiet speaker also shared his deep respect for the women who followed Jesus to the very end, who stayed at the cross and went to the tombstone and prepared the spicy burial ointment for Jesus. He spoke of these women as disciples, albeit not the twelve ones most known, and hinted at his personal belief that women need roles in the church that seat them at the same table where male disciples sit.

I hope I am not putting words in this man’s mouth, but I did check with Mark and make sure he heard what I heard. There is so little coming from our congregation we are part of here that speaks about gender equality in the Christian faith and in the church. And I am reminded of a wise woman’s statement here years ago, during our first term: “Women are the backbone of the church.” And I think of the three thousand who marched the streets of Jos several weeks ago protesting the violence and instability on the Plateau, and I am proud to be a women, to be teaching my children that God has no gender, that all are loved and gifted and needed in God’s great world.

And the words from this quiet messengers’ mouth on a Good Friday, I felt I had tasted a little of the resurrection already. Nourishing, true food that sustains me in these difficult times.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

For Those Who Wonder and Pray.....

2010-03-14T16:54:00.006+01:00

It's Sunday morning and I'm sitting on our front porch. Three brown-grey geckos with spotted teal heads are sunning themselves on the stucco wall of the storage building beside the house. The purple sage and sunny coreopsis sway with the breeze in the little flower bed that bravely blooms and gratefully accepts what gifts of water we can offer it. To my left the frangipani are nearing the height of their glory with blossoms of sweet-smelling fuschia, pale yellow and salmon. The flame tree is beginning to burn vivid orange and just behind it the purple sprigs of the jacaranda tree are losing petals to carpet the dusty lane in violet.

Last Sunday at this time we were just beginning to hear about the massacres in four villages about ten kilometers from Jos. The news just seemed to worsen as reporters and human rights groups and others showed up to document what happened. That up to 500 persons, the majority children, women and the aged or sick, could be cut down in a few hours in the dead of night, when a curfew is supposedly in effect and masses of federal soldiers have been called in to keep order - such a reality has shaken the residents of Jos and deepened the conflict here.

It's easy to employ a search engine, typing in Jos Crisis, or Dogo Na Hauwa (the name of the first village attacked) and read reports or watch brief videos of what happened last Sunday morning, so I won't take the time or emotional energy to repeat it. I write to ask for your good will, thoughts, and prayers for Nigeria, and right now the people of Plateau State.

As leaders of MCC Nigeria, our primary focus is the physical and emotional safety of our staff and as we are able, to stay in contact with friends, neighbors and those we partner with. We are consulting with many knowledgeable, well-connected and respected leaders, both Nigerian and expatriate, to listen, learn, improve contingency plans and look for ways that MCC Nigeria, as a Christian organization promoting peaceful resolution to conflict, nonviolence and interfaith bridge building might have a small part to play.

As parents, we are keenly watching our kids. We are trying to delicately balance being honest with Greg and Val about what's happening here with firmly sticking to routine as much as we are able and sparing the gory details. As of today, I am amazed at their resilience and good humor about all the upset. I thank God for this. As parents, we are also trying to be wise and reasonable about how much conflict and what kind of risk we can live with. Some of you wonder about our choices right now - thanks for that kind of concern and love. All I can say is that we are doing the best we can to weigh our commitment and desire to live and work here with the reality of deepening conflict and instability. Please trust us and know we are in contact with many people, including MCC administration, Nigerian colleagues, and mission leaders.

As humans, we are weary. Today, I begged my fine husband to let me have a few hours at home alone and he graciously took the kids to church and then out to eat at a favorite hamburger and pizza place. Hence my sitting on this cool and shady porch. But we are doing okay, praying each day for wisdom to prioritize and to let go of the rest. We know home leave is 63 days off, according to Val's latest count.

But always, as I write of my white weariness, I am reminded of the exhaustion, grief, fear and bewilderment that so many Nigerians live with. With my blue US passport, I can get out of here if it gets too bad, or I can't take it anymore. Our Nigerian friends have no such choice. And today I still think that if we can reasonably assure our safety and contingency plans, there is so much yet we can learn from our Nigerian brothers and sisters, from living here, from serving with MCC especially at this time when our country program is moving its strategic focus into peace and reconciliation - a direction desperately needed now.

And there is still hope. Many are feverish working with security, the government, traditional and religious leaders and among more informal networks to bring order, restore a sense of safety and face the conflict with the goal of peace. Even now people are giving the full force of their energy to mediate the conflict between major tribes vying for land and power here.

On Thursday, about three thousand women marched in peaceful protest of the violence against women and children, against the lax security, against the ongoing conflict. Donned in black they went to the House of Assembly and then the Government House. Bold, but non-violent protests will increase awareness and inform the government that Nigerians are not willing to sit around and wait for an end to this mess.

This latest violence finally got the attention of the international press. World leaders are starting to take notice and publicly object to Plateau State's worsening situation and government's failure to decisively, authoritatively and justly react to it.

We are somehow most fully ourselves when we are giving ourselves to this work and we continue to be held here by God's grace, most days at least. :) Shady porches, a day of rest and bearing witness to the incredible spirit of Nigerians help during this tense time.

But we will not be stupid or heroes or martyrs. When the Spirit of God is at work, it can continue to bring change, healing, love, transformation or simply an accompanying presence whether or not we live here.

If you pray, please pray about these things:

*need for the international community to put pressure on Nigeria to deal with its human rights lapses, to manage this conflict which can easily spread to other parts of the country, to bring justice to those behind this calculated and well-funded violence and for those who commit acts of violence

*for those whose lives are shattered by death or loss of possessions, livelihood, homes, schools

*for all who live in fear and in distrust of the security forces sent in to protect them

*for Nigeria's federal and state, community and traditional leaders. With a respect for authority in this culture, a religious leader's words and vision can flame a fire or calm a storm.

*for the male youth planning a peace march this week

*for the women who were first to the protest plate and have so much to offer to this peace process but are often left out of it

*for the ability to bear witness to pain and suffering and the sweet singing of the yellow-breasted bird flitting through the fragrant frangipani tree on this Sunday morning

Written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

March 2010 Update

2010-03-03T13:19:00.003+01:00

A blog update is long overdue. I find more time to write in the midst of a crisis, when the office is closed and everyday life stops. The adrenaline also surges then.

But several weeks after a crisis, speaking from the experience of now living in Jos during two major uprisings, I deflate with fatigue, fear and the question that buzzes like a hungry mosquito, "What the heck are we doing here?" Just getting through the day, listening to grim stories of murder and destruction along with hopeful testimonies of grace and love, and providing constancy and care for the kids are goals enough.

Soon after the crisis, two trained trauma debriefers came and spent a morning with most of MCC program and support staff. Each person was given opportunity to tell their story and share how the recent crisis impacted them. The debriefers normalized feelings and symptoms. We prayed together and were prayed over. It was a good start toward healing.

And we are regaining an equilibrium even if it is one that must be flexible, living as we do on shaky ground. Life is calmer now and energy and strength for daily tasks is returning. Still, an uneasy tension buzzes in the city and we're still on a restrictive a 6 - 6 curfew. Gone are evenings spent with friends, school programs or the occasional meal at a restaurant. Men in military uniforms roam the streets. Our friends report that reprisal and "side" killings are still happening in back alleys and the less protected countryside. And the country's president remains incognito after being flown to Saudi Arabia and then returned to Nigeria; a reality that creates more uncertainty and worry.

February was tough too because we had to make so many budget cuts, prepare year-end reports and write plans for the next fiscal year. We also helped to coordinate a small relief effort with our partner EPET and are working to listen for ways MCC might be involved in peace building and reconciliation efforts.

March is busy with the need to catch up on paperwork since the office was closed or in crisis mode for so long. At the end of the month we'll help host CWARM meetings - a five -day gathering of the MCC representatives from DR Congo, Rwanda/Burundi, Burkina Faso, Chad and Nigeria .

Val and Greg are doing well now that school has resumed. Greg is into basketball; he goes out every night after practicing his piano lesson and doing his homework to shoot and dribble with friends on the rough but functional basketball court. Val seems to be growing about an inch a month and spends her energy on schoolwork, reading and friends. She can make a mean crepe and delicious cabbage salad. Our children are certainly aware that bad things have happened here and we talk about the crisis as much as they want. They also fare better with the resumption, however, short-lived, of comforting routine.

But much as we strive to live in each day and enjoy its gifts, we are also eying our approaching home leave beginning in May - eagerly looking forward to seeing family and friends and the opportunity to rest and regain perspective.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Worship in a War Zone

2010-01-31T12:42:00.003+01:00

Today we returned to church, having taken an advised hiatus last week when the violence was too recent and security still uncertain. (Although right now many here wonder if any place of certain security exists.)

We turned off the main road, where several scorched buildings and cars marked the beginning of the “war zone” to drive the bumpy dirt lane back to church. Almost every building on either side of the road was in charred ruins. Normally, or before this recent crisis, Anglo-Jos would be bustling - those of the Muslim faith would be selling wares or snacks, and Christians would be walking to church in Sunday finery.

Today it was quiet and dead, except for those still trekking to churches. Where was the old woman who sat against a wall and stacked oranges in little piles? Or the old men who lounged on worn benches to chat and chew kola nut? Or the young girls who sold doughnuts and peanuts from plastic bins or trays carried atop their heads? Everyone is gone – shops and homes smashed or burnt, the vegetable market at the foot of the hill is silent and empty.

Our kids were sobered; this was their first time in a violence-stricken area. Greg sat down on his white plastic church chair, pulled out his orange marker and little notebook and wrote while the congregation sang songs of praise. He shares it with permission:

The Crisis Includes:

1. Burnt homes and shops
2. More poor people
3. Loss of food and water
4. Loss of school
5. Sadness and madness
6. Boredness
7. Attacking of homes
8. Fleeing or being killed
9. Crying for loved ones
10. Shortness of church
11. Curfew
12. Scaredness
13. Curiousness (increased suspicion is what he means, I think)
14. More car accidents (as people fled)

After church, with a sermon that included why Christians hold joy even when filled with sadness and that Revelations warns of such horrors, the leaders pulled the adults of the church together. They sought to update us on relief for the church members affected by the crisis, (there were fewer than in some areas as most members don’t live in Anglo-Jos) the difficulties faced by the total destruction of the empty parsonage, and the hope that energy and determination will be directed toward rebuilding and healing this community. Anglo-Jos stayed peaceful in the 2001 and 2008 riots and was a diverse, yes, even cohesive, community.

I do not know how the violence started or spread or who burnt what buildings…the stories vary and regardless who is talking there is almost always a sense of being victimized. I am not an expert on Nigeria or Plateau State. For those interested, I will include links -once I figure out how to do it or can nab Mark who usually handles the technology part of writing - to good articles by scholars and journalists on this issue. What I know, however, is that Anglo-Jos as we witnessed it today, is a microcosm of what happens when a government is unfair and unresponsive to the basic needs of its citizens, when security forces cannot be trusted, and when rage, frustration and powerlessness are spark into a deadly combustion. There are little and big Anglo-Jos’s throughout the city, throughout Nigeria, throughout the world.

And yet, worshipping among members who almost filled, as normal, the church less than two weeks since a mini-war raged here, I thought these odd words: “There is no better place for us than here.” I do not know what our future holds and when or if at some point it will be time for us to acknowledge that we are no longer the ones to serve MCC in this position. While our term formally ends in 2012; more crises and insecurity may shorten it. While I prefer normalcy and have wistful flashes of memories of life in the states when things seemed much, much easier, I also would grieve leaving what is now home to us, chaotic, uncertain and stressful as it is. Friends and colleagues are here, people who flesh out their faith under the most strenuous of challenges, people I need to learn more from and work together with for the time being.

Our kids love their school and friends, and while protecting them is our high priority - they are so far facing life here with optimism. We pray that seeing the effects of violence may move them to consider peace and nonviolence as the only way through life. Maybe they will even reduce the quarreling between them!

Our team continues to struggle with and make some sense of the realities following crisis. Trained debriefers will meet with most of our program and support staff in a group trauma debriefing this week, and individuals or families can also avail themselves of further help. I’m grateful for an active member care team in Jos that’s available to debrief both expatriates and Nigerians who have lived through trauma.

Still, "there are flashes of grace" as our friend and long-time missionary the Rev. Dr. Sid Garland (Mission Africa-Ireland) shared, "Our (church) member was saved from Muslim mobs pursuing him ... they saw him looking out of his window and started coming for him. He jumped over a wall into his Muslim neighbor's house, was hidden by her in spite of questioning and searches, and then was brought out safely by her through the crowds - dressed in a hijab !!"

Such glimpses, we pray, may strengthen a resolve to build equity and peace here, so that more stories of love, kindness and determination not to let hate triumph might blossom. Today it is seems a foolish, meager hope, but we'd rather dwell there than turn to despair.

by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Update to Jos Crisis

2010-01-28T14:50:00.002+01:00

I’m sorry I did not update this as I promised. The days sort of blur into evenings and then another day has passed. Here are some key updates:

The current curfew is from 6 p.m.-6 a.m. curfew. Daily life picks up more a little every day. People express worry and fear. Suspicions exist where they did not earlier. We feel that even within ourselves.

C.I.D., the MCC House Day Guard, helped move Hyeladzira’s possessions from Bukuru to Jos. The home her flat was in is one of only two left standing in their immediate neighborhood. She is glad to be in a safer place with her mother, but now carries the tasks of searching for housing, a different school for her children, and most of all, of building a new life in another section of Jos. Her story is repeated over and over although thousands lost everything they owned to the fires and looting. Others face the gaping hole left by loved ones who were killed.

Val and Greg continue to go with the flow, spending time at friends’ homes or with Mama Lydia at home so we can work. School is scheduled to re-start February 1 if the city remains calm.

Our energy has shifted completely to helping organize a relief effort with our partner EPRT, to greet and listen to folks stopping by the office and to care for our team members as best we are able. The stories we hear are difficult to digest. However, they keep us in touch with the pain and humanity of our dear friends here.

EPRT volunteers have registered 34,000 displaced persons so far and are accepting donations from individuals and organizations. MCC has committed $17,300, other faith-based organizations have promised substantial amounts of money as well. EPRT will purchase and distribute food and non-food items like buckets, soap, sleeping mats, blankets to as many IDPs as possible. This will happen in the next several weeks.

If you have any desire to support the relief effort you can send a check to MCC, P.O. Box 500, Akron, PA 17501. Your check should be earmarked Nigeria Relief Response.

Jos looks mostly normal, especially parts where no destruction hit. But there is nothing normal about what happened and without undue paranoia, we expect more unrest unless unresolved issues are addressed and changes made at the highest levels of government and society level.

Today, an MCC team meeting brought us together to share, pray, lament and listen. As a bi-cultural team we have diverse concerns, reactions needs and questions. We appreciate your prayers on behalf of the MCC team and the people of Nigeria.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Silence That is Not Golden

2010-01-22T20:54:00.006+01:00

The quiet in urban Jos proclaims that something is seriously amiss. Curfew now ends at 10 a.m. and begins again at 5 p.m. Our seven-hour window of “freedom” allows people to buy supplies, check on loved ones, move to a safer place and bury the dead. Motorcycles and commercial vehicles have been banned for the present. As I sit here, while Greg practices his piano lesson and Val washes the breakfast dishes – our home still a modicum of normality – the world around us has fallen apart.

All residents of Jos and the surrounding area are anything but free. Rumors of more “attacks” abound and we try to hear them but not let them paralyze us with fear. Yet with the intensity of the reactions, with the unbridled killing, maiming, burning and looting, it’s easy to believe that more revenge --suppressed for now while the city remains under tight control of the military--will rage upon this area again and again. Intervention at the highest levels of government and cooperation among key religious leaders has to be a top priority if Jos is going to keep from disintegrating into a war zone.

We have not ventured back to our office or the main part of town but some stores are open; the ones I visited near our home were running low on supplies. Banks have been closed all week so people can’t get money to buy what they need. Our street is lines with walking refugees, many with cooking pots, a sleeping mat or bag of possessions on their heads.

With a series of helping hands, we managed to facilitate the move of our secretary and her family to her mother’s home across town; we hope tomorrow we might be able to get her possessions out of her apartment. She told us today that it would have burned had not her husband stayed back. He pulled well water and was able to extinguish the flames. Only three buildings in their neighborhood remain intact.

Mark took our house helper home on Wednesday afternoon, with the friendly help of two federal soldiers who bargained hard and pocketed some extra spending money for their half-hour task.

Checking in daily or even more often with our associate director based in Abuja provides us with support, guidance and encouragement. And we thank each one of you who have emailed and are remembering us in thought and prayer.

We’re already working with our partner EPRT (Emergency Prepared Response Team) to try and help with a relief effort. If any of you wish to contribute in any way, please let us know and we will send you information about where to send donations. It is still too early, - the smoke is still settling – for anyone to know for sure how many people have been displaced and need relief; but the numbers will no doubt be in the tens of thousands.

We hope to gather our team when it is possible for prayer, sharing, listening and support. Again, we are so grateful that all were spared.

Our kids are doing amazingly well; although they really, really hope school starts again on Monday.

Our friend Obed Dashan, a pastor in the town of Bukuru (about 15 minutes south of Jos) where much was lost and destroyed writes this to friends: “Thank you so much for all your prayers. It means a lot to know that one's brothers and sisters around the world are standing with us. We feel your love. We find courage in your fellowship and partnership. The name of one of my nieces which I gave is Velret meaning "two are better than one,” further understood as community is better than individualism. Your support to us has been Velret. Thank you. We love you all very much and pray that your own faith will grow and stand the 'giants' in your life.

On a brighter note – the coreopsis have begun to bloom in our garden. I felt indulgent insisting on using precious water in keeping this small flower bed alive-- even during dry season-- as a way to soothe my soul and provide splashes of color. Now each coreopsis stem holds a burst of sunshine, a tiny promise. Somehow, life keeps being born.

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Jos Smouldering Again

2010-01-20T14:19:00.003+01:00

Jos is in crisis and lockdown….again. The violence started on Sunday and escalated through yesterday (Tuesday). It spread to the communities of Anglo-Jos, K-Vom and Bukuru, communities which stayed mostly calm during the last (November 2008) crisis. We don’t have enough information to know where all the destruction is and who has been killed, harmed or made homeless, but we know the numbers are significant. Everything is shut down – banks, shops, schools, and all but military and medical traffic. The military is moving in and seem to be taking control of most areas. Thankfully all our MCC staff are safe. Magdalene, our house helper, is with us as she could not safely get home yesterday when they ordered the 24-hour curfew, which continues into today.

Yesterday we seesawed between eerie quiet with almost no traffic on the road below our home and gunshots, the cackling fires of destruction and the excited voices of hundreds of onlookers. They were standing on the rocks and hills behind us watching gangs of youth torch and destroy buildings and homes – Muslim or Christian - depending on which neighborhood you lived in. All of it barbaric and still hard to believe.

The gazebo about twenty feet up the hill behind our house is a barometer for tension. Groups of neighbors kept vigil almost all yesterday. We frequently climbed up there ourselves and once, neighbors pointed out where youth were taking down, piece by piece, the home belonging to someone of the Muslim faith. “They aren’t burning it because it could also destroy the homes of Christians,” they said. And I heard no outrage or sadness in their voices. Deep-seated distrust and stereotyping of those who are different seemed as destructive as the physical violence happening all around us.

The night was quiet at our compound – only sporadic gunshots. This morning we climbed the hill again to see raging bonfires in the empty lot over our wall. Youth were carrying loads of household goods – pots, pans, a bookshelf – and feeding the black and smelly fire. We realized they were burning the possessions in those destroyed houses and other buildings that had been occupied by Muslims. These acts of pure meanness and revenge are happening all over Jos. One group starts a fight or fire, the other side takes revenge, people are killed, their homes destroyed. And what has this accomplished?

The reports as people text and email each other are grim:

The problems started in communities of Jos North and there is significant death and destruction there. Varying reports from news sources point to the trigger, but it points to the same old issues of power, resources and government policies which identity some Nigerians as “settlers” and some as “indigenes” – policies that affect politics and distribution of that power and those resources. Policies that unresesolved will probably lead to more trouble. The most recent trigger hardly matters in light of the extremely flammable substance of festering wounds, unresolved past trauma, distrust and eagerness to fuel any spark.

In Anglo-Jos (about 1 km from our home), the NKST church parsonage and the home of a church member beside our church were burned. The parsonage was empty as our congregation planned to welcome a new pastor on Friday. And many of the Hausa Muslims were driven out of the usually peaceful and diverse community of Anglo Jos.

The town of Bukuru, where our secretary lives, is smoking. She and her three small children fled to the police barracks; but they are refugees until they are allowed to return home and see if it has been spared. Other friends there say the burning and destruction is significant.

On a personal note, Valerie and Greg are doing well. They are bored and would much rather be in school. I hate for them to hear about and witness this craziness. Yet they are seeing the world as it is in many places. They also will now again witness acts of generosity and care when relief efforts gets underway and try to bandage the wounds of the brokenhearted. We pray we can keep our children safe and that what will stand out for them is the witness of those who act in love and kindness.

We have no idea where we will go from here, or how MCC Nigeria will respond. We know there will be a great need for debriefing (even among our own MCC team), trauma healing, relief and rebuilding again. But what future are we cobbling together if this kind of violence just keeps happening? We are probably too much in shock to be able to discern what MCC can help to offer in this place of instability and conflict.

This morning we walked out to the see if the compound gate guard had gotten any breakfast – he’s now on the second day of duty as replacements could not get to work– and heard the buzz of talk and laughter of children. Just over the wall a school- turned-refugee camp is filled with displaced persons.

We chatted with the guard at his post and I noticed that someone had written above the door to the office what so often comes from the mouths of our dear friends, neighbors and colleagues here.

“Sai godiya ga Allah.”

“Just gratitude to God.”

written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Mid-January Update

2010-01-14T15:08:00.004+01:00

After a month’s hiatus, I finally resumed my writing mornings and I am doing anything but writing. The electricity is off and my computer’s battery stands at 63% and that pretty accurately describes me as well. Swinging back into routine after the holidays takes a little time.

Happy New Year to all of you who might be reading this. In Nigeria, new year greetings ring out with the traditional greetings and might linger on into February and March if you haven’t seen a friend or acquaintance since last year. Nigerians frequently express gratitude that they are still alive. “We thank God that we have reached another year.” Even though I am more likely to focus on the suffering and death of so many Nigerians, with a median life expectancy of 46 years, some exuberance and gratitude “no matter what” must be rubbing off because I also find myself enthusiastically greeting Nigerians with, “Barka da sabon shekara!” Greetings in the New Year!”

In mid-December, Mark and I drove the 1 1/2 hours to Panyam for the wedding of Nicholas Wetkur and Kopret, his wife. Nicholas worked for MCC in the past and still helps us out with minor electric and generator repairs. We were happy to get out of Jos for the countryside and enjoyed sitting in a small, humble church to watch the joy, dancing and excitement as this couple started a new life together. The service started only one hour late and lasted just two hours! We didn’t stay for the reception where dancing, eating and celebration probably went into the night. A few photos of the wedding will soon be posted in an updated photo album.

Val and Greg had about a month off from school over Christmas. This year, we stayed out of the MCC Nigeria office for the official two-week closing. In previous years, we would sneak into work, but this year decided not to. We enjoyed a week of being with the kids, baking, and visiting with friends AND a nasty virus which kept some friends away. We attended a short service at our church on Christmas Day and then hosted several families and individuals for a succulent potluck. There were no sweet potatoes but we tasted just about everything else that one might find on a North American Christmas buffet. And green mango crisp perfectly mimics apple crisp.

Our MCC Nigeria program staff and their families retreated at Yankari Game Reserve and Wikki Warm Springs for five days over New Year’s. Thanks to the help of a very hardworking retreat committee this year, we ALL had a chance to rest and enjoy the fellowship of team members. Our new associate director from Abuja and his family joined us. We swam long hours in the perfectly pure and warm springs, took a safari ride (no lions but we got a glimpse of elephants) ate, played games, watched movies and enjoyed a true break from normal work and home routines. The hungry warthogs loping around our cottages and the baboons aggressively trying to steal food or climb through windows into our rooms were met with a mixture of exasperation and "Hey, this is free entertainment!"

Now the January page is once again on our calendars, the kids are happily back in school and we are gearing up for a busy four months. First on our lists are writing annual reports and plans, entering partner progress notes into the data base, setting a budget in place (not especially fun with the economy still in a funk), visiting long-distance partners and starting to prepare for home leave.

We're excited to get back to the States after almost two years away. Visiting and hanging out with family and friends is our highest priority. We won’t mind eating peaches, sweet corn and raspberries, driving smooth roads, shopping incognito, and experiencing electricity and cleaner water either. And yet, now that Nigeria is home, I am almost certain we will be happy to return to life, work and school after the summer visit.

Well, the Mac’s battery is at 47% now but I think I am gaining energy, full of gratitude for a good month, looking forward to challenges and work ahead, and no longer procrastinating about writing. Except now I need a little cup of coffee.....

by Brenda Hartman-Souder

--
Posted By The Hartman-Souders to Hartman-Souders in Nigeria at 1/14/2010 12:08:00 PM

Giving Thanks 2009

2009-11-26T12:59:00.002+01:00

For the first time I can remember, a major Muslim holiday (this time Id el Kabir) coincides with American Thanksgiving here in Nigeria, so we’ve got a long four-day weekend.

When I told C.I.D., our day guard, about American Thanksgiving, he wondered if it was like the thanksgivings here - Sunday events organized by congregations after harvest (about now) when people bring offerings of money or a tithe of their crops. I explained that Thanksgiving back home, while a glorious and treasured tradition, is more a day of cooking and feasting on succulent, traditional foods and gathering with family and friends. I avoided mentioning Black Friday altogether.

But even here in Jos, Americans celebrate their Thanksgiving and on Saturday we’ll attend a large potluck with foods as close to the traditional as is possible. It’s been at least three years since I ate pumpkin pie!

In addition, I joined the Hillcrest Community Choir this August and we’ve been practicing for Friday’s performance of Handel’s Messiah, so the whole weekend is a collage of cultures, traditions and yes, thanksgiving.

A year ago, on November 28, life-shattering violence broke out in Jos, and we are very aware of the anniversary of those awful two days. It’s tough, at times, to be thankful here when so much seems to go wrong so much of the time, and it sometimes seems naive to hold hope that the plateau will be without further outbreaks.

Still, I feel a fragile but blooming gratitude for a year of health, well-being and a sense of God’s continued presence.

Every night at supper we go ‘round stating one thing we’re grateful for, along with prayer requests. Often our thankgivings are “I’m glad there are only two more days of school this week,” or “I’m glad I did well on my math test,” or (and I’ll own this one) “I’m glad the day is almost over!”

In contrast, almost weekly we hear Nigerians simply pray, “God, we are grateful we are still among the living.” Today, I want to offer thanks for that which grounds and holds me in life itself.

I am so grateful for my family - for a loving spouse and two energetic kids. I am grateful for all the time we get to spend together, the fun we have and the way we have pulled together living in Nigeria. I’m grateful for parents and siblings back home who blessed our coming even though it means many, many years apart.

I’m grateful for our MCC Nigeria team; everyone - from those who sweep concrete floors to those who teach or nurse or lead - is a unique and valued part of what makes our program work. In addition, volunteers and staff in the Nigerian organizations with whom we partner also take the love of God to ordinary people in tangible ways: by digging wells, providing health care, teaching skills, helping with school fees, teaching peace building and conflict transformation.

I’m grateful for NKST, the primarily Tiv-tribe congregation we attend. I’ve struggled with this denomination’s stance on women, its challenges with leadership, and the fact that it comes from a Reformed tradition when my own Anabaptist ancestors protested some reformed theology and suffered for it. However, the energy, the music and the warmth of NKST’s members encourage us and bring us back Sunday after Sunday. We are all, dogma, religious convictions and Biblical interpretations aside, seeking to abide in God and love each other. We have some friends there now and are part of a care group that meets monthly for Bible study, sharing, fellowship and food.

It’s awkward for me to admit I’ve relieved and grateful for a strong military and police presence in Jos - we hope this will keep things from boiling over and squelch future threats. Military or police check points, which some of you have never encountered, are part of life here. Since we’ve never been unduly hassled, although we have been asked for money, I’m mostly grateful for the navy blue police trucks and the men in black or camouflage uniforms who stop vehicles and do their best to ferret out trouble.

I’m grateful for each of you who keep us in your prayers and thoughts, who write us and encourage us and send us photos and listen to us when we are troubled or scared. These are precious gifts.

I’m grateful I’ll never look at a light switch or water faucet in the same way again. Chronic shortages of the very basics has forced me to understand that much of the world lives this way. The inequities are so great they seem a great chasm.

And yet, living here means I cannot miss watching how people, with little material wealth, make do and carry on and greet the day, how they value community and family and cling to their faith in ways that many of us with the protective shells of money, things and advantages do not. This gratitude is bittersweet; because people here suffer needlessly and there is so much death and pain.

I’m grateful for so much more - the warm, sunny weather in November, our hibiscus’s first flower, the delicious stew Lydia our house helper is cooking as I write, our neighbors and friends here, the children’s school, the colorful kaleidoscope of life, and the knowledge that for now, we are here and it is good.

We wish you a blessed Thanksgiving, wherever you are.

by Brenda Hartman-Souder

School Breaks and Schools Breaking

2009-10-30T12:58:00.001+01:00

Ten - that’s how many days the kids had off from school in the last month. First there was Eid Al Fitr, a Muslim celebration where two working days are declared national holidays, then October 1, National Independence Day, and then came Hillcrest School’s October break.

Routine loving gal that I am, I have never particularly enjoyed these extra days off. You might even remember how I complained about snow days. But this year, we made a good stab at staying out of the office to spend time with the kids. Flexibility of schedule is a huge asset to our life in Nigeria.

We enjoyed cookouts and bonfires with friends on the Nigerian holidays. Then on the first weekend of school break we traveled out to Miango Rest Home - an old fashioned name for a retreat and conference center for mission and church groups. SIM (Serving in Mission) workers had carefully planned a “How the West Was Fun” weekend. Not being from Texas or anywhere near there - being Yankees, in fact - we were a bit nervous to be attending. But we had a blast. Meals were laden with western type foods: barbequed pulled pork, chicken fried steak, beans, even apple pie and ice cream. Games and activities kept the kids busy and adults could join in or sneak away for naps or novel reading. Square and line dancing led to the realization, once again, that I am not a spring chicken. But there were lots of middle aged chickens there, many of us not up to dancing the Electric Slide, but with plenty of energy to sit around a marshmallow-roasting-fire and chat.

After three office days we left last Friday for Abuja. Greg needed to see an orthodontist as his upper bite is narrow and he’ll likely need an expander. Plus, we now have two MCC families in Abuja - our regional peace advisor and his family and our new associate director with wife and two youngest sons. We stayed at the home of our associate director, (even though he was traveling) a nice change from guest houses and spent a lot of time visiting and playing games with our MCC friends. We got in a little shopping and swimming and ate German food at the Julius Berger compound. Greg saw the doctor, had a full set of x-rays taken, and declared it wasn’t nearly as scary as he thought. He’ll have monthly appointments though and that means long road trips on treacherous roads...

Now we are back to school and normal work schedules. Let me say, though, that ten days off from school is nothing compared to public schools (primary, secondary and universities) here that have been closed due to a protracted strike that just ended. There is an ever-present sense of breakdown, of slow demise in the education and so many sectors here. So many youth are losing out on a decent education.

by Brenda Hartman-Souder

MCC Partner Gathering

2009-10-05T12:49:00.002+01:00

We’ve been talking about it for two years and at the end of September finally pulled our MCC Nigeria partners and staff together for a two-day gathering. Partners learned about MCC, got acquainted with each other, began to network and also learned together how to implement MCC Nigeria’s overall focus of peace building and interfaith dialogue.

Gopar Tapkida, MCC’s regional peace advisor, led us through activities which helped each of us see our work through peace building lens. It didn’t matter what activities our partners actually do - deliver health care or anti-retroviral therapy to AIDS patients, teach literacy or income generation skills or dig boreholes - we learned how each of our partner groups address conflict, injustice, gender inequality or unfair distribution of resources and began to explore together how we can better and more intentionally build peace work into our daily activities and multi-year plans.

Every one of our 13 partners sent representatives, the evaluations were overwhelmingly positive, although one person complained there was too much food! (We are Mennonites, after all.)

This being a year of reduced budgets, the partnership gathering was a cost-effective, fun and rewarding way to start working at a significant goal that will shape program and our own objectives for future years.

by Brenda Hartman-Souder

At the table

2009-09-25T13:44:00.004+01:00

Today is Id al-Fitr, or Sallah, the Muslim celebration following Ramadan --a month of fasting from sunup to sundown--for those you not acquainted with Islamic observances. We thought Sallah started tomorrow, so we went about our normal Sunday routine, and got ready for church.

At about 9:15 we heard what sounded like a motorcycle missing its muffler. Within a few minutes, the whole stretch of Abattoir Road (viewed from our hilltop gazebo) was jammed with revving motorcycle taxis, many of them speeding. Large trucks, filled with men clad in all colors of the rainbow – as wearing newly stitched traditional clothing is customary--alternated with the cycles. They were on the way to a local mosque for ten o’clock prayers.

Going to church was not possible today. We couldn’t get out of our lane onto the main road; it was too congested, too dangerous, too filled with chanting, jubilant but also daring young men. On a day of such high emotion, even a fender bender could be the start of major problems.

So we returned home and again climbed the gazebo where our North American neighbors, also prevented from going to church, were watching the crazy scene below. With 7 children between us, we decided to have a few Bible Stories to mark this Sunday.

Jonathan read about Jesus’ advice to not seek the places of honor at the table, and also about the rich man who held a banquet, only to have his friends turn down the invitation since they had more important things to do like buy cattle and property and spend time with their new wives, etc. So the host sent out his servants to call the poor, the disabled, the ones with no status or wealth to his lavish feast.

And then our children shared answers to the questions – what does this story mean – and doesn’t this depict an ideal world or what heaven will be like, or heaven on earth if we lived as Jesus taught?

And all the while the road was teeming with cycles and trucks and a few cars of church-going Christians braving the roads.

And my mind turned to yesterday when Mark and I attended a Peace Practitioner’s Forum; sponsored in part by MCC. There were many at the table – Muslim, Christian, men, women, conservative and more progressive. We were there to learn from representatives of the many organizations in Plateau State who are working at interfaith dialogue, human rights, justice, gender issues and peace building. We were at the table to hear each other, identify needs, strengths and gaps, to support each other, reduce competition and duplication of services and to find a way forward in this part of the world where tension, misunderstanding and refusal to accept diversity can easily lead to violence.

Articulate, dedicated and thoughtful Nigerians expressed hope and determination and a commitment to unity. Yesterday’s forum was a little like sitting down to a feast where all are accepted, heard and welcomed. Being part of it reminded me that working with MCC is rich and satisfying because we get to see so many interesting sites, like men racing to prayers in all their finery, and because we meet so many interesting people at life’s table.

by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Lessons from "Slipper Falls"

2009-08-27T13:44:00.007+01:00

During recent MCC Nigeria team meetings a group of us trekked to infamous “slipper falls” near Miango village. Two agile and wiry local farmers - proud to show us the way and earn a little money besides - kept us on the sandy path snaking through millet, cassava, peppers and cabbage fields interspersed with the lush-green savannah carpet and eventually reaching the creek. The stream bed consists of black, porous volcanic rock, and as if to confirm this, a quiet volcanic hill in the near distance was another easy, scenic hike away.

In rainy season the creek looked more like an angry wannabe river and the small waterfalls, our destination, pulsed with brown water.

At its muddy base thousands of old and ruined flip-flops, (aka “slippers” in Nigerian English) floated like dead fish belly side up. Environmental degradation is one of Nigeria’s formidable challenges.

This juxtaposition seems symbolic of Nigeria and perhaps life wherever we live: all this picturesque rich farming land and millions of hardworking, smart and talented people - all this fertile potential jeopardized by an ignored pileup of neglect and misplaced priorities.

I imagine most of the earth now bears scars of human carelessness and destruction on its incredible diversity, intricate and scenic grandeur and in the cycles of creation that govern us all. Nigeria just does less to hide the garbage, pollution and waste. I too am part of this willful and life-endangering despoilment of earth. I buy practical, cheap, plastic flip-flops (and countless other goods) without really thinking what happens to them when they wear out. Quote

I don’t know how to solve the problem of pollution in the world, but the reality of slippers falls is not unlike the reality of our work in Nigeria. Team meetings - a time to gather our program staff and their families for sharing, decision-making, rest and fun - provide an opportunity to remind me that in the midst of substantial problems - overwhelming if I look at them for any length of time - streams of mercy, love, service and beauty steadily flow.

It flows in the work of Athanasius who faithfully works with the deaf in Plateau State to increase their economic independence and improve their social, spiritual and physical lives.

It flows in the service of Randy and Char who work at rural Vom Christian Hospital. Char, a nurse, helps administer a sometimes ill-equipped TB clinic where the numbers of those testing positive never seem to go down. And Randy, a public health doctor, helps to administer and organize the APIN (AIDS Prevention in Nigeria) Clinic.

It flows in the work of Gopar who serves as MCC Central and West Africa’s Regional Peace Advisor - availing himself for peace building projects in six countries, many of who have substantial, dangerous and often violent conflicts between ethnic or religious groups.

And it flows in the work of Matthew - our business manager - who serves alongside us in the MCC office doing the practical and sometimes mundane work of encouraging staff and helping us monitor the work of program partners.

It’s way too easy for me to focus on the polluted creek bed, shake my head and say it’s all a dismal hopeless mess RATHER than step back, take a wider panoramic view and regain a perspective; one that acknowledges problems and the reality of our endangerment and being endangered but also beholds the fair fields of vegetables, grain and thriving farming communities.

Team meetings gave us time to be together, to affirm and remind us that we are part of a rich, gifted, complex, bicultural team that strives to offer support, encouragement and accountability to each other in the midst of trouble AND in our efforts to bring God’s love to those we work with.

I’m grateful for the persistent and stubborn faith of our MCCers whose tangible acts of service take hold of hope, potential and opportunity even when they collide with hardship, poverty and scarcity resulting from corruption and neglect. MCC’s workers keep me buoyant with doses of hope, not that all in Nigeria will be ‘fixed’ anytime soon, but that we can be faithful to do the work God has invited us to do.

I’m even grateful for our tensions, conflicts and challenges. These are normal and provide constant opportunity to practice, albeit it with much failure, what we say we are about and taking, with the Spirit of God in us, slipper-sodden, churning water and turning some of it into the wine of right relationships, economic empowerment, improved health, literacy or the chance of a education - the kingdom of God on earth.

by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Vacation 2009

2009-07-28T13:45:00.002+01:00

Leaving Nigeria for a three-week vacation in Switzerland and Germany still seems self-indulgent; I'm reluctant to write about it. And yet, this entirely rejuvenating and restful time provided a vital Sabbath for us in the middle of a more than five year term of service with MCC.

We were lured into this particular vacation because of a ten-day Refresh conference for Christian cross-cultural workers at the Credo (Cray-do) a beautifully renovated 400-plus year castle turned retreat center nestled in the foothills of the Swiss Alps.

Refresh, coordinated and directed by Dr. Daniel and Lori Hahn and their staff of volunteers, accomplished for our family precisely what it set out to do: provide space and time to rest, have fun, listen, take in physical and spiritual nourishment and to remind us of healthy ways to engage in the work we sense the Spirit has called us to.

Refresh is based on the belief that regular self-care and time away for rest, reflection and connection is necessary for anyone who works in any kind of ministry. (And doesn’t that include just about all of us?)

Val and Greg enthusiastically participated in an all-day children's program. They met kids from all over the world whose parents had also moved them from their passport countries to other and sometimes difficult settings. They played games, hiked, built crafts, learned Bible verses and stories and performed a dynamic musical program at the end of the conference.

Mark and I deeply appreciated the spiritual input from Dr. Hahn, the senior pastor at Bible Fellowship Church in Ventura, California. A spirit of humility, love, acceptance and a desire to serve permeated every staff person who volunteered to come and make this retreat possible for the families, couples and singles who attended.

The Refresh syllabus stated: “True community is never broken into “those who have it all together” and “those who need help.” Quite the opposite....we are (all) broken people who are seeking to journey along side you and offer what we have...”

Setting a foundation where it was okay to be exhausted, doubting, confused or fearful was a refreshing change from so much of the theology we encounter. Each morning session was designed to provide insight and challenge us to acknowledge and accept our humanity, our wounds, our foibles, to live more authentic lives, and to sit at the feet of Jesus as the only way to be able to serve with authenticity and joy.

Lots of afternoon and evening free time, along with counseling, massage and other optional activities made this conference stress-free. Mark and I grabbed every opportunity to walk, either alone or together, on well-marked trails that offered stunning vistas and clean, fresh air wherever we went.

In addition to Refresh, we spent a few days along the Rhine River Valley in Germany, two days in Bern, Switzerland where we briefly connected with Swiss Mennonites who supported one of our partner projects, and then ended our vacation with a delightful four days in Leipzig with friends Anja and Tobi whom we got to know during their two years in Syracuse. Even though their children know only German, our kids found ways to play together.

Good beds, feather duvets, delicious coffee, soft and chewy breads, electricity, easy shopping, drinkable water, a precisely coordinated train system and lots of biking, swimming and walking were all treats that we savored and remember.

Arriving back to Jos was fine too. It's good to be back in our own beds, to put the suitcases away and return to some routine. Plus it’s cool, rainy and lush and our little vegetable garden is actually growing. Thanks to Matthew for managing the MCC office in our absence and thanks to God that nothing too urgent awaited us.

A friend wrote us shortly after vacation saying, "(It) sounds like you had a wonderful time and have a bit more in personal reserves to move forward with the daily ups and downs.”

That is a concise description of a vacation’s purpose. Which all of us need. I’m so aware that many of our Nigerian friends and colleagues can’t take the same kind of holiday as we did this year. We live in those tensions here all the time, and they are uncomfortable. And yet we feel renewed vigor and perspective for our work and life here. Getting away was what we needed, so as Nigerians say about so many things, “We are grateful.”

Check out of the new photo galleries if you want to see some more photos both of our life in Jos and our holiday.

Written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Swinging Together

2009-05-01T11:26:00.001+01:00

Over the weekend as I was running up and down the gazebo steps trying to keep my heading-for-fifty body in some sort of shape, I noticed Mark standing quietly just down the hill.

“Why are you standing there?” I huffed.

“I’m thinking,” he replied and once I got to the bottom of the steps I could see he had that look in his eye, the “I’ve got an idea taking root,” look.

“This is a good place for a swing,” he said as he pointed to the strong, horizontal limbs of a big old flame tree halfway down the hill behind our home.

That very afternoon a swing came into being, crafted of yellow nylon rope and a plywood board. Mark hauled an empty metal water barrel up the hill for a platform. When you climb up on the barrel, situate the board on your bottom, grasp the rope and push off you swoop down the hill and back in a thrilling arc. The neighborhood kids flock to our backyard for this free fun.

Sometimes five or six of them gather in the early dusk of evening. I’m amazed at how democratic and gracious they usually are in deciding whose turn it is, how they help each other onto the slightly precarious barrel and how they delight in that second when a child lets go and swoops down the hill. Children waiting their turn run around with patient glee or pick still-sour oranges from our trees. So far there have been no major fights or injuries. These kids seem like naturals at problem-solving, taking turns and pleasure from each other and one simply wrought swing.

Watching the kids led me to start thinking about another emerging idea - how MCC Nigeria will start to shape and focus its program with partners and personnel.

We intend to train each staff member and partner group on conflict resolution and peace building, and to encourage each NGO or person to develop goals for peace and conflict transformation. We talk much in MCC about the value of bringing men and women, Muslims and Christians or other diverse groups of people together around mutually beneficial development projects as a practical way to construct durable peace. And we’ll focus on just that as much as possible in the coming years.

We’ll start with a partner-MCC team gathering this year. Our thirteen partner groups can meet each other and start to network, learn from and maybe begin to plan future activities together. Gopar Tapkida, MCC West Africa’s Regional Peace Networker, will teach some beginning conflict resolution principles and skills. As we’ve told partners about this September event, they’ve unanimously reacted with enthusiasm.

Sort of like the neighbor kids when they learned we had a new swing out back.

Having seen how quickly humans can decide to destroy rather than build, we still hold out hope, naive as it may look, fragile as it might feel some days:

That deep-seated resentments, conflict and fears will not prevail.

That people, at heart, wish to coexist peacefully and are willing to find ways to work at that.

That even adults, skeptical and calcified in their ways, may view the reciprocal process of peace building and working on mutual goals with a bit of the determination and energy of a small child clamoring onto a swing while her peers, also in line, help and cheer and dance with excitement.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Rwanda

2009-04-07T14:40:00.001+01:00

To state that the last few weeks - traveling to Rwanda, then meetings with our supervisor here immediately after - have been stressful is an understatement, but I’ll go ahead and say it. Stressful, yes, but in good way.

On Friday, March 20 we left Jos for Abuja and stopped to visit Jacob and Hassana Babale and their three children, Angel, Emmanuel and Ajala. In 1997, Jacob and Hassana hosted us in their home for our five-day MCC village live-in (part of in-country orientation) when we arrived in Nigeria for our first term.

Jacob currently pastors a COCIN church near the international airport.
Hassana cooked a wonderful pounded yam and egusi stew lunch with tender pieces of chicken; it was good to re-connect and catch up.

We stayed at Hope Eden’s guest cottages the nights we needed to spend in Abuja on either end of the Rwanda trip. Hope Eden is owned and operated by a German-Nigerian married couple who have developed a farm in the “bush” about 40 minutes from the airport. There is no cell phone network coverage, no electricity (but nice solar-powered lights) and no running water. But the buildings, the food and the hospitality are all a wonderful mix of African and European. We ate yam pottage and took bucket baths, but also enjoyed real brewed coffee and homemade jams and slept with duvets. Well at over 100 degrees we didn’t actually sleep under the duvets but you get my point. The kids can walk all over the farm and enjoyed watching the plentiful flock of peacocks.

Then we were off to Rwanda with overnight layovers in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia both ways.

CWARM (Central West Africa Regional Meetings) were a good mix of learning, sightseeing and fellowship. Being with colleagues who carry out similar work in other countries helps me remember we are not alone, and provides times of idea gathering, problem-solving and even commiserating! We also met Mark and Angela Sprunger - Mark will soon be our new associate director based in Abuja.

A day trip through the mountains with stunning vistas and green-hued terraced farms to visit an MCC partner group was tiring but worth it. This group is comprised of women whose husbands died in the genocide or whose husbands are in jail, accused of committing crimes of genocide. With trauma healing, peace trainings and long years of listening, grieving and sharing, these women are forgiving each other and working together in mutual development projects. As they shared, they did not downplay the horror of what happened yet they talked with courage, determination and even joy on their faces.

The visit with these women and an afternoon spent at the genocide museum in Kigali vividly taught us about those gruesome, wretched days in 1994 when one out of ten (800,000) Rwandans died; whole families gone, everything as they knew it destroyed. I found it hard to breathe deeply as we read about and viewed photos of the genocide, as we were reminded that almost 300,000 persons’ remains are buried on the grounds.

The Rwanda we visited is a lush, fertile and clean country. Plastic bags are outlawed, dumping garbage is a crime. There is little road craziness. (Nigeria, are you listening?) The government is working to address the trauma of the past and also plan a solid future for the citizens of this tiny country.

Throughout the meetings, Val and Greg were well taken care of by childcare providers and enjoyed special meals at a pizza place and Ethiopian restaurant. A short night with MCC Ethiopian Reps Doug and Wanda Amstutz and their three daughters in Addis Ababa meant I was able to buy ten pounds of pungent dark-roasted coffee beans to lug home. Just $2 a pound and the best coffee we’ve drunk in a while!

Following CWARM, Melody Rupley, our current supervisor, came back to Jos with us for a week of visiting and meetings - it is always a special honor to get one-on-one time with her. The kids love having her in our home. Melody was able to meet with each of our MCCers and their families, too.

Now she is one her way to Burkina Faso and we are working to settle back down into familiar routines.

The kids have about six weeks of school left and the first rain fell on Saturday, washing the earth, and clearing the air. We are grateful.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

After a Quarter Century, New Beginnings

2009-02-26T11:37:00.005+01:00

Asabe (center back) with her family

Mrs. Asabe Anthony has worked at the MCC house for more than 25 years. That’s 1250 weeks or approximately 50,000 hours of work. That’s all of Asabe’s adulthood to date.

This month Asabe (ah-sa-bay) retires from a quarter century of employment with MCC Nigeria to focus on and grow her family’s batik business.

As a country representative for MCC Nigeria, I mostly focus on people, who despite numerous obstacles, lead nonprofit organizations that bring hope and healing to others in Nigeria. I write many reports, progress notes and even stories about our program partners and staff.

But the support role of house helper is as fundamental to the work of MCC as anyone’s. Asabe has served Christ in a job that is often devalued and underestimated. Mark and I would not be able to devote our efforts to program management without persons like Asabe who attend to the physically demanding and time consuming tasks of housekeeping in this sub-saharan Africa climate.

So today I want to honor Asabe, age 45, who since 1984 has cleaned, cooked, marketed and ironed; who has soothed MCC babies, corralled energetic MCC children and welcomed countless MCC workers while they were in Jos. I want to recognize Asabe who learned to adapt to many “bosses” as the MCC representatives change every 3-5 years.

Asabe started working at the MCC when just a newlywed. She labored for MCC while birthing seven of her own babies, and raising other children of her and husband Anthony’s extended family as well. In addition to a busy family life, Asabe is fully involved in the women’s fellowship at her church.

During the 1990’s, MCC co-representative Naomi Unger taught Asabe to bake and cook North American foods and also encouraged Asabe to attend a skills training workshop offered by a local NGO. There Asabe first learned the basics of batik.

She was fascinated with the process of dying fabric - how to blend colors, use patterns and create unique and beautiful pieces of cloth. Staff at the Alternative Trade Network of Nigeria (ATTN), a fair trade organization, and other master artisans, also helped her learn the technique. Soon she was producing fabric which the local market, including many expatriates, began to demand.

Asabe’s skills steadily improved and income generation groups or individuals now ask her to teach them the art of fabric dying and design.

In recent years, Asabe’s daughters have grown into young women and Anthony retired from full-time employment. Lama Batik, named after the Menda name for Ruth, their daughter who died as a toddler, is now a business the whole family “puts their hands to.”

And Asabe as the cornerstone - the artist, the business woman and the marketer will now be able to devote all her workday energies to the family business.

We at MCC Nigeria pay tribute to Asabe this month. We celebrate her years of faithful service and fully support her stepping out to fulfill a dream she’s nourished for years.

How Asabe had energy to learn the skills necessary for running her own business and continually perfecting the craft of batik while working full-time and raising a large family is a mystery to me. But persistent is a word often used when one talks of Asabe. This was especially so during her workshop’s official opening/dedication several weeks ago.

During the past year, the family built a three-room workshop behind their home. They can work and sell in any kind of weather, plus a locked storeroom safely holds supplies.

Now Asabe is ready to leave MCC and begin another phase of hard work, dedication and creativity. Asabe and Anthony fully commit this endeavor to God. They trust God to lead and provide. Leaving employment with benefits is not risk-free; Asabe and Anthony move ahead bravely but also aware of what they are leaving behind.

Asabe will be truly missed. We can hardly imagine the MCC House without her. We are grateful that Lydia Sunday, a longtime part-time worker will step up to the task of serving more fully at the MCC House.

I am proud of Asabe and her spirit, courage and determination. I pray she goes well, that her carefully laid plans will succeed, and that she will and her family will have fun too.

And we hope that once in a while she’ll stop by (with her ever-present stash of tablecloths, fabric and aprons for sale!) to visit us at the MCC house.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Losing Zentong

2009-02-15T10:22:00.001+01:00

Zentong (second from right) with parents and two siblings

Athanasius Dapul - who has served with MCC Nigeria 25 years - and his wife Rautha are traversing one of life’s harshest ordeals. Their eldest daughter, 18-year-old Zentong, died last August of complications of sickle cell anemia. It seems that only now, months later, can I write of the rawness of that time.

Zentong grew up an MCC kid. She was a quiet, bright, slender young woman who courageously took her disease in stride without protest or bitterness. Zentong was an excellent cook, in charge of most of the food prepared in the large, extended Dapul household. She regularly participated in youth activities at the church right across from the family home and had many friends there. She was a budding tailor, sewing clothes for herself and younger sister Yitna’a. She loved children, often playing with neighborhood kids whose mothers would leave them in her care while they ran errands.

And Zentong chose nursing for a career, which is why she had moved to the University of Jos campus just before her death. Had she lived to complete her training she would have been the kind of nurse that she was a person - gentle, compassionate, and committed.

But sickle cell anemia is a swift and frequent killer here. “Sicklers.” as they call them, can live into their 40s in countries with sophisticated health care but they rarely live past 25 in sub-Saharan Africa. And while blood testing before marriage is now practiced more - to rule out genetic disorders and AIDS - this is only a recent development. Those who know they carry the sickle cell gene still choose to bear children; the desire and expectation to raise families is intense here. Furthermore, not every child with carrier parents will be born with the disease. Zentong was diagnosed at age 6; she was the only one among the five Dapul children to have sickle cell anemia.

I’m unable to comprehend the grief of Zentong’s parents. I can’t imagine holding my child as he or she slips away. I can’t picture our home without one of them. I don’t like to think much about how fragile life is: how one minute we are thoughtlessly living in routine, the next in the irrevocable upheaval of loss. I look at Athanasius and Rautha and wonder, “How do they bear this?”

During his articulate tribute at Zengton’s funeral, Athanasius mentioned that as a pastor he conducted childrens’ funerals in that very church. He acknowledged that until he lost Zentong he knew not even a fraction of the pain of saying goodbye to one’s child.

But community offers much-neeeded solace and strength for such sorrow. Nigerians immediately reach out to those newly bereaved. No one mourns alone.

Zentong died at a Plateau Specialist Hospital at 6 a.m., both parents by her side. Athanasius called us and others shortly thereafter. Mark went to the hospital and drove Rautha back to their home. By the time I dropped our kids at school and got to the hospital at 8:15, friends, family members, along with work colleague Matthew and his wife, Esther, were already gathered to mourn, to wait, to just be with the family.

Athanasius, gray with exhaustion, shock and grief, resolutely took us to the room where Zentong lay. There would be no later viewing. Then Matthew and others drove to check if there was mortuary space at the nearby Air Force Base, since Plateau Hospital’s morgue was not functioning. Here, family members are responsible for everything. At the hospital they provide blankets, food, medicine, soap and towels. In death, they provide the transportation of the body to a mortuary.

Esther and I drove to the Dapul home. When we arrived, the sitting room was already packed with women. People kept coming in, removing their shoes at the door, then going to hold Rautha and murmur, “Sai hakuri” (Have patience) over and over. Prayers were offered, more men and women entered while others slipped out. Keening wails from the back of the house pierced the air, reminding us that what just happened was tragic, unfair, and while not entirely unexpected, still heartbreaking.

Zentong’s funeral took place three days after her death at a packed-to-overflowing church. Immediately after, a 30-car procession followed the ambulance-hearse the 1 1/2 hour drive to Bwonpe, Athanasius’s village. Zentong was buried in a field of towering corn.

A few days later, we picked our kids up at school, and drove to the Dapuls to greet again. (Greeting multiple times is expected and normal here.) I was surprised to enter a house still full of people; the coffee table set with insulated containers of food, clean plates and cutlery. I wanted to head right back out the door, so strong is my North American sense of “intruding” on people. But Athanasius and Rautha warmly welcomed us. Our insistence that we didn’t need any food was met with equal assertion that we did! So we accepted bowls of rice mixed with just harvested potatoes, savory tomato stew and beef.

In death people come and go, bringing food and drinks, helping with preparations, praying, accompanying the family. Friend and family stop what they are doing when death occurs; nothing is more important than traveling to sit with, to be with the family.

Nigerians grieve the loss of their children often. And with a median life expectancy of only 46, our Nigerian neighbors, friends and colleagues are constantly, it seems, facing the untimely death of people they love. You cannot live in Nigeria and pretend that death is not part and parcel of life. The risk, it seems to me, might be to undervalue human life; such frequent, too-early death might promote a kind of protective detachment.

But watching and being, in a small way, with the Dapuls as they lost Zentong, rejoiced in her life, and continue to mourn her death refutes this. Their grief is profound. Athanasius and Rautha raised her, taught her, loved her and gave her the best medical care available. They long to have her back. But their faith is deep; they firmly hold to the belief, the truth: Zentong is with God and she suffers no more.

And they understand that they must carry on for the sake of the rest of their family. Easy to state, such actions are still excruciatingly difficult to do.

But they are held - constantly, lovingly, and in practical ways- by their extended family, neighbors, friends, and church community.

Yes, it takes a village to raise a child. The difficult, yet comforting truth is this: It requires that same village to bid a final farewell to one.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Two months After

2009-01-29T10:01:00.000+01:00

Although I’m an expatriate, I think I can accurately say that for most Jos residents, the carnage and craziness of November 28-30, 2008 - what we call the “Jos Crisis” - is indelibly inked in psyche and memory. It’s still relentlessly discussed and it’s resolution, or what happens next, is unclear.

Time and usual activities were irrelevant as we struggled to understand the gravity of what happened to “our” city again, (a similar crisis took place in 2001) as we listened to wildly varied stories of horror and hope, as life in Jos as we knew it fell away, the floor crumbling under our feet to drop us into some new, disturbing and painful realities.

Innocent people were brutally harmed and murdered. Businesses, homes and places of worship were vandalized, burned, ruined. Many people were affected at a deep and devastating level.

Many say influential men planned the whole thing and skewed media coverage and analysis.

A heavily armed military keeps order and a tense peace. “If the military were to pull out now, there’d be a bloodbath,” an elder church statesman told Mark the other day. Checkpoints and strictly enforced curfews are part of daily life now.

And until those in government work to resolve the root issues underlying these crises, Jos and Plateau State - the diversely populated, temperate middle belt of Nigeria - is at risk for repeated violence.

The riots didn’t consume the international media’s time for more than a day or two, and the military did restore surface order quickly. It could have been worse. But this crisis should warn and remind us just how intensely animosity simmers and how quickly misunderstanding, unresolved conflict and hate can escalate.

Jos is not an easy or beautiful city for us to live in, but we know its quirks and offerings, its chaotic, noisy, vibrant predictability. It’s temporarily home for us. Many of our Nigerian colleagues and friends, however, are permanently rooted here, deeply invested in this area where they’ve birthed children, built dwellings, where they worship, work and farm. They crave peace and progress. All who live here are nervous about how this is going to shake out.

As the co-representative for MCC Nigeria, a country program that has peace building at its heart, I’m trying to get a grip on “What should we be doing now?”

And I get no clear answers but I think that what we’ve done and are doing might be enough for now. We sat in our dusty MCC office and welcomed people in to talk, talk and talk some more. This is still happening. Providing space for processing and shaking our heads in disbelief and grief is a gift to us as well; we stay connected, we share our fears, we listen and are listened to.

Applying for funds from MCC’s Food, Disaster and Material Relief (FDMR) Department and helping to coordinate a relief response among local mission and nonprofit organizations were other small acts. The economic crisis meant that MCC could not give as much as they usually do in a disaster like this, but $15,000 helped about 200 displaced families.

MCC Nigeria collaborated with local partner Emergency Preparedness and Response Team (EPRT), a coalition of 15 intergender, interfaith organizations who strive to diffuse and respond to conflict, implement relief operations and work for peace on the Plateau.

EPRT had a difficult task in responding to this crisis and it has significant challenges in the days ahead. EPRT members, both Muslim and Christian, were personally affected by the crisis. And because the “battle lines” here are usually drawn by religious affiliation, EPRT members have misunderstandings, hurts and tensions of their own to work through.

Nevertheless, their staff and volunteers gave up the first weeks of their holiday leave to register displaced and affected persons and coordinate several distributions of food, clothing and basic household supplies. They could not help everyone; but we’re grateful for EPRT’s commitment, philosophy and dedication. We’ll support their efforts to face their internal strife, rebuild relationships, plan for the future, and work for peace at varying levels of society and government.

Despite shaky uncertainties after a major crisis, we’re returning to the routines and work which help ground us - daily office tasks, planning for the future, shoring up crisis contingency plans, playing together as a family, meeting with partners and workers, spending time with friends, praying for wisdom,

Living here at this time has forced us to again sort through and affirm our commitment to serve, despite our limitations and fears, to draw closer as an MCC Nigeria team and to place our ultimate trust in a Creator God who loves those who suffer and also those who scheme.

And amazingly, with rainy season still months away, folks are hoeing the field next to our house - the burnt, blackened area set on fire by a neighbor boy bored with too many days at home during the crisis and Christmas holiday. Leaning deep from the waist, they work up the soil, readying it for potatoes, beans or groundnuts. Cosmic processes follow steadfast, unceasing rhythms. You can count on it.

We know anew that life is frighteningly fragile. Still, we choose to turn toward the hope inherent in the daily rising sun and green sprouts emerging from an ash-strewn, dry field. We join hands with those who, regardless of whether they pray to Allah or God, steadfastly work for community wholeness, health and peace.

And as Nigerians say, even in the midst of struggle or pain, and what we now understand as a bold proclamation of faith, “We thank God.”

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Jos Crisis

2008-12-06T12:36:00.002+01:00

It’s hard to know how to write about the death and destruction that rocked Jos last Friday and Saturday. The media covered the carnage for a day or two, then pretty much dropped it. The December 1 New York Times article contains mostly accurate information.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/01/world/africa/01nigeria.html?_r=1&scp=3&sq=jos,%20nigeria&st=cse

But evidence is mounting and most people here believe that the carnage was not started from a random spark that got out of control, but a well-planned attack meant to coincide with local government elections, elections which carried emotion and strong opinions among many residents.

And while the city appears to be calm, with a 6 p.m. - 8 a.m. curfew and numerous military patrols and check points, the citizens of Jos are only beginning to estimate their immense losses.

As North Americans, we stick to the our home, the office or the road in between. We are not out wandering through the parts most affected by two days of violence; that seems unwise right now. But this is what I know.

People were killed - reports put the number of dead at about 400 - it’s impossible to claim accuracy. Many more were wounded. Up to 30,000 people at least temporarily fled their homes, some are still in displaced persons camps or living with friends or relatives. Many will never return to their homes or communities. Many witnessed horrific events that will haunt them a long time.

Homes, businesses, vehicles, and churches were destroyed. Both Christians and Muslims were affected. Imagine what this loss of property means where almost no one carries insurance, where many people live day to day with little reserves of food, supplies or money. Imagine what strain this puts on an already weak economy where 70% live below the poverty line.

Since 2001, when another outbreak of violence racked Jos and other Plateau State communities, an uneasy sort of peace has mostly prevailed in this city. Although there were fewer integrated Muslim-Christian communities, commerce and daily life were restored. Many organizations and individuals worked for peace - bringing Christians and Muslims and others together for dialogue, understanding and problem-solving.

MCC Nigeria was involved in these peace building efforts with MCcers who developed trainings, seminars and materials for interfaith and personal conflict transformation. Through these efforts, conflict resolution and peace building are more common words and concepts, taught in churches, seminaries and other organizations.

In recent years, MCC has started to support several peace building initiatives, including the Emergency Preparedness and Response Team- an interfaith, multiethnic coalition of 10 NGOs, including the Red Cross, across Plateau State. EPRT aims to recognize the signs of conflict, defuse tension and respond when necessary with relief and rebuilding.

How tempting it is to see this recent shattering of daily life as a failure of the peace work. Anger, disappointment and discouragement are normal after what we just witnessed. What does it mean that the early warning signs taught weren’t heeded? That perhaps heeding and sounding the alarm was a risk too high for individual people? What does it mean when a highly trained organization struggles in its relief efforts, mostly around ethnic and religious lines?

No peace organization has all its kinks worked out and EPRT, other peace building organizations and MCC will continue to learn from the events of the last days.

And this time the violence was contained, so far, to specific sections of Jos, and did not spread throughout the Plateau. Even within Jos, fewer communities were hit. There are also stories of courageous acts of heroism; Muslims hiding Christians until they could flee safely, mixed neighborhoods that vowed to stay peaceful and protect all its citizens.

What happened here has been awful. Personally, it shakes me at a deep level - this awareness of how such an attack -- rumored to have been planned and financed from somewhere -- could happen here and so quickly destroy lives and homes. We saw the smoke of burning property just over our back wall. We saw the streams of persons fleeing their homes in fear; we listen to stories of hunger and hardship from our friends and MCC partners. Our kids are out of school indefinitely. Sallah is Monday and Tuesday; Christmas just several weeks off. Supplies are scarce since so many businesses were burned (including a huge bulk grain market) We understand clearly that no home or compound is entirely safe.

Peace is not a state you achieve and then bask in -- peace is a process involving years of effort, hard work, and determination. Perhaps the peace groundwork laid so far in Plateau State prevented more bloodshed. Steps taken backward do not mean we cannot start forward again. We at MCC Nigeria remain committed to peace as a way of life; remain committed to supporting and working for peace, addressing peace-building with each one of our partners and staff.

MCC Nigeria is now working with EPRT and other mission and non-governmental agencies to coordinate a relief effort of food, water and other supplies to the displaced, the hungry, the hurting.

If you are a praying person, please pray for the resilient but scared, angry and sad residents of Jos. Please pray that the fragile stability of the past few days would hold. That Sallah will be peacefully celebrated, that relief efforts will ease the pain, that the Nigerian government would resolve to look at and address the root causes of this conflict.

Last Friday we got the following text message from our friend and partner Rev. Obed Dashan, provost of Gindiri College of Theology. “If we pray for peace we must work for peace. Peace is not cheap but costs less. War costs lives, trust, and relationships and most importantly it dims the light of our witness. Lord restrain our warring madness.”

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

"Statistics are numbers with the tears wiped off."

2008-11-24T12:53:00.001+01:00

The 2008 MCC Medical Serve & Learn Tour

It’s impossible to get near-accurate figures on the HIV infection rate here. The government puts it at 4-5%. Faith Alive Clinic, an MCC partner, that offers free testing, documents a higher rate, but they test many people who already have symptoms.

80% of HIV infections here occur from heterosexual sex. Infected blood during transfusion, transmission of mother to child, unclean instruments during ritual ceremonies and drug use make up the rest. Here, HIV is not a gay disease.

But regardless of the infection rate, AIDS is a fatal illness with far reaching consequences. Progress has been made in the areas of awareness, education, testing, and prevention. PEPFAR (President’s Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief) provides many services and ARVS, MCC along with countless foreign and national NGOs also provides support. The train is moving slowly and it’s moving in the right direction. But Nigeria has far to go.

When the MCC Medical Serve and Learn Tour group, here for 2 1/2 weeks, took their AIDS presentation to Gindiri College of Theology, another MCC partner - what we witnessed was both alarming and hopeful. The group performed a little drama with two different scenarios where a woman went to her pastor to confide her fear and distress after discovering her husband is HIV positive.

In scene one, her pastor tells her to trust God, submit to her husband, and to go on having (unprotected) sex - he is confident that in fulfilling her marriage vows, God will be faithful and protect her.

In the second scene, the pastor listens to her empathetically, understands the risk, asks her to bring in her husband to discuss this crisis and if that is not possible, offers to help her a safe place away from him.

After the drama, Rochele Beachy, the group’s leader, asked the assembly of 300 students, wives and faculty for their reactions to the two scenes.

One pastor-in-training stood up and said that yes, the woman should stay with her husband, that indeed God would protect her. The North American Group and not a few Nigerians gave a quiet, collective gasp.

Others stood up and said that the African culture does not see taking a woman from her husbands’ home to find a safe place as a solution. They educated the Serve and Learn group on ways the local community might help a woman.

Other brave souls stood up and talked about the painful reality for many women here - very few have any real rights - they must yield to sexual and other demands of their husbands, they perform backbreaking work all day, they must not speak their minds or disobey. Women may not be in the position to truly challenge their husbands, the culture and church leadership.

A faculty member eloquently spoke about how education and change must start with the men coming together for support and resolve - that in this society, the men must realize the offense of treat their wives so poorly, how they put them at risk for STDs and HIV when they stray from the marriage union.

Then Larry Kieft, an American, 60-something obstetrician/gynecologist stood up. His words (paraphrased here) were electrifying.

“I have been married 40 years. I love my wife. Since I love my wife, I have no desire to give her a fatal disease. I want the best for her.”

Nigeria and other countries will continue to deal with AIDS for a long time if they do not address the facts that much infection is passed from men who have been unfaithful to women who are faithful in marriage, that the disease is fatal, that it has ravaging and far-reaching effects for families, children, communities and countries.

You in North America may have trouble believing these kinds of conversations take place. In Africa, the AIDS epidemic is far from over. Cultural beliefs, lack of understanding about the fatal nature of AIDS, the lack of enough ARV’s (drugs which reduce symptoms and prolong life) for all who need them, the grinding poverty which makes a healthy diet and good medical care difficult for many affected, the growing numbers of affected and infected widows and orphans - these are real.

Jean Garland, an Irish mission worker who has devoted years to HIV/AIDs research, awareness and prevention in Nigeria and who authored, with Dr. Mike Blyth, ‘AIDS is Real, and It’s in Our Churches,” spoke to the Serve and Learn Tour at their beginning of their visit.

“Statistics are numbers with the tears wiped off,” she said.

In Nigeria, the statistics are perhaps shaky. But see the hunger in the eyes of a child orphaned by AIDS, experience the desperation of the HIV+ woman selling bananas who begs us to buy, or witness the fear in the married theology school graduate who found out he is positive, and it’s easy to weep.

Weeping is needed. If the Nigerian government can weep along with its people and bring the full force of its wealth, intelligence and resolve to address - with education, testing, treatment and stigma reduction - this epidemic that brings so much weeping can be tamed.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Pumpkin Poems

2008-11-14T10:09:00.003+01:00

We bought some pumpkins in the market this week, primarily for Greg, whose class was studying and decorating them. Now it's time to bake the pumpkins, puree and freeze some for Christmas pies, roast and salt the yummy seeds and ask Lydia to make that wonderful Nigerian dish with spinach, onion, tomatoes, atcha, ( a local grain) beef and you guessed it - PUMPKIN!

And Greg is very focused on the pumpkin seeds he just planted. First thing this morning; he trotted outdoors in the cool, dusty morning light to pour more water on them. We'll keep you posted about their sprouting. But you can see that his class grew some wonderful pumpkin poems.

My Pumpkin Poems
by Greg's 1st grade class

Pumpkin, pumpkin can you fly?
I really hope that you don't die
I hope you come home to eat your pie.
by Kumi, Greg and Moses

Pumpkin, pumpkin with a sad face,
Why don't you want to have a race?
Pumpkin, pumpkin, do you like to run?
We could race out in the sun.
Pumpkin, pumpkin lying on the ground.
You are so very fat and round
by Zishim, Caleb and Kosi

Pumpkin, pumpkin, why don't you grow?
Why are you being so slow?
If I put water on your vine?
Will you look so fine, fine, fine?
by Regina, Angel and Omanchi

Pumpkin, pumpkin sitting on the ground
Pumpkin, pumpkin, you are so round.
It's time for me to eat you now.
But you are as big as a cow!
by Annah, Joseph and Danielle

Update in 550 Words

2008-10-24T09:03:00.003+01:00

Life has been a blur- so busy some days I’m not sure which day it is. We’re grateful for good health and energy.

During August Mark and I attempted to catch up after a two month home leave and got the kids back in school. (yippee!)

In September we welcomed a new MCC family - Charlotte and Randy Gesell, along with Westen (13), Tanner (11), and 9 year -old-twins Riana and Kezia. After a month of orientation and a rural village live-in experience they just moved to a small town about 35 minutes from Jos. Following Hausa language study, Charlotte will serve as a nurse and Randy as a public health doctor. Their children have started school at Hillcrest. We’re grateful for their courageous acceptance of a three year term and admire their stamina, sense of humor, can-do spirit and eagerness to learn.

Two weeks after the Gesells’s arrival, Matthew and I along with several other colleagues and partners, traveled to Accra, Ghana to participate in MCC’s strategic planning process called New Wine, New Wineskins, Revisioning MCC for the 21st Century. After three days of structured listening and dreaming together about what MCC might look like, Matthew and I stayed on for two days of Central and West African Regional leadership meetings.

Hot and steamy Accra was very doable in a hotel with steady electricity (air conditioning!), great food and a pool. While we didn’t have much time for sight-seeing, we did venture down the coast to St. George's Castle in Elmina - a Portuguese, then Dutch fort on the Atlantic coast which was used as a holding station for Africans sold into slavery. Despicable conditions weakened the Africans so much that only a minority of them survived the tortuous ship journey to the Americas. The tour was sobering, chilling really, and I was pushed to consider in what ways we continue to enslave and devalue other humans. Please see the related link sent by my colleague on the cocoa business and Fair Trade Chocolate.

Mark adeptly managed the kids, the office, and continued hosting our new family during my travel, although he’d be the first to say it was not a good time for me and Matthew to travel. Not only is it the time of year to strategically plan and budget for the next year’s programs and personnel, we are also organizing the upcoming Medical Serve and Learn Tour.

In less than two weeks a twelve-member team of medical professionals is scheduled to arrive for 2 1/2 weeks of serving and learning, with a focus on HIV/AIDS and health care. They will volunteer at local health care centers, visit with MCC partners, attend seminars, enjoy a cultural night, eat local food, and experience Nigeria! They’ll stay at a Guest House beside our home and the MCC administrative team will be fully engaged in hosting them. It should be a full and fun time.

Following that we’ll need to buckle down to that strategic planning, reporting and budgeting, plan a five day team retreat, visit partners near and far, and get ready for more new workers due to arrive early next year.

Whew and wow.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Double Digits

2008-10-23T08:55:00.002+01:00

Valerie turned ten yesterday, October 22.

Last Saturday, she and four other girlfriends, whose birthdays all fell between October 18 and 22, reveled in a party that can simply be labeled really, really fun. A sunny, weather-perfect afternoon with the girls’ families and a few friends, wild and crazy games, delicious cake, hot dogs on the grill and an evening movie made for a memorable celebration.

Last evening her dad took some time to wax eloquent about the day she was born - how she pitifully wailed the first night until the nurse tactfully suggested we might be playing the Bach CD a little too loud. And how the lactation consultant-angel appeared at my bedside - teaching us how use a breast pump and more importantly about baby slings. We bought one for $38; it seemed like a lot on our MCC allowance back in 1998, but we never regretted it. The sling, along with God’s grace, got us through the early months of parenting. It allowed both mommy and daddy to soothe Valerie and after constantly cuddling two children, it’s worn-out but tucked away in the attic of our house in Syracuse.

And speaking of Syracuse - we still feel we are held sling-like by so many friends there. When Val opened her gifts early Wednesday morning, she was wearing a t-shirt given by the Ed Smith third grade class in late 2006 just before our family moved to Nigeria. Hand prints and the signatures of classmates as well as past and present teachers remind Val that she is still remembered and loved by many people. And Greg, as you will see, is wearing his stretched out, dearly loved Syracuse University t-shirt.

So while the kids will live a significant amount of their childhood, by God’s grace, in Nigeria, Syracuse holds a special place in our hearts.

And Val was reminded many times over of all the family and friends who love her when our Syracuse friends Peter and Anne along with sons Tim and Joe sent an e-mail to folks reminding them of her special day -- this prompted a string of Happy Birthday e-mails from all over the States.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

At Home Before Hitting the Road

2008-09-12T12:33:00.002+01:00

It’s a glorious sunny morning. After the bustle of breakfast, brushing teeth, packing lunches and zipping backpacks, Mark and the kids are on their way to school and office.

Lydia, who helps us with the housework, is humming as she clips t-shirts, jeans and towels to the blue vinyl wash lines strung between trees and the swing set. Today the clothing might actually dry before dark clouds advance and hurl another thunderstorm our way. The rains are still frequent and strong, but this bright warm day hints at the approaching dry season.

From my office window, I notice that the freshly washed clothes of our neighbors are draped over the red brick wall just beyond our small orange grove. My focus is pulled to a stark white shirt with a pink collar - a brilliant contrast to the mud brick wall of the house just behind it.

Roosters crow and women cooking over wood fires at the rear of the guest house next door chat, call greetings, and break out into laughter. CID, the day guard/gardener is chop chop chopping grass with his scythe. He’ll be glad, I’m sure, when the curtain closes on this rainy season - cutting grass by hand is harsh labor. A siren from a car whines in the distance - some important official must be passing on the road to the governor’s home.

I love these little noises which accompany my at-home writing mornings. Our home on this compound at the edge of Jos is a relatively quiet oasis with its murmurs of daily life rhythms. These few peaceful hours balance the rest of my day and week.

Because soon I’ll head out, revving up the Peugeot Station Wagon and carefully maneuvering it down the deeply rutted lane - rainy season and lack of maintenance this year have made it downright jarring.

“I feel like I’ve been on a safari,” quipped Greg’s first grade teacher when she drove the lane for a home visit.

I’ll greet the gate guards then plunge into the traffic, a menagerie of beaten up vehicles, taxis, trucks and motorbikes, along with pedestrians flanking the road as they trek or wait for a taxi.

I will immediately and involuntarily tense up, hoping simply to make it to work without hitting anyone or sustaining injury to my car. The congestion only gets thicker and noisier as I head for the heart of Jos where MCC’s offices are. Everyone with a horn will use it, it seems, as they pass, swerve into traffic, or stop to pick up passengers. “Horning” is a language all of its own here, a language I’m still learning. But I practice it all along the way. I like to consider - and I know this is delusion - my horn’s blare as a powerful, protective shield.

At Secretariat Junction about half way between home and the office, I’ll endeavor, and will probably fail, to keep my anger from rising as I wait in the proper lane to turn left, only to be passed on the right by countless vehicles that jauntily cruise to the front of the line. There, the orange-vested police - who keep traffic from going completely berserk - casually wave them through the intersection. Sitting in this turn lane means I am a potential market for countless vendors who wave their wares or thrust them through my car’s rolled down window. Nigerian flags, rat poison, sunglasses, and gleaming watches are all conveniently available to the law-abiding folks stranded in the left lane.

But eventually (and so far every day) I’ll make it to the office, and work of a different but also enjoyable nature will begin - welcoming partners, staff, and visitors; writing reports, attending meetings and responding to email - an unpredictable flow of challenges that require the same quick reflexes and unwavering attention as driving. Then it’s to school to pick up the kids and join rush hour’s chaotic stream of humanity returning home.

But for now I’m still here, sitting with my laptop, whose keys contentedly click while I edit this. Birds sweetly sing, laundry flaps in the breeze, and the blaring horns of those braving traffic are faint and few.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Hillcrest Beginning

2008-08-15T12:09:00.002+01:00

The annual front porch pose started when Valerie began pre-school. On the first day of school the kids perch with their backpacks and their smiles right along with their hopes and fears. This year we’ve got a first and fifth grader and they are eager to begin.

Home Revisited

2008-08-10T12:03:00.001+01:00

Friends here warned us about home leave. Anne Karin, my Danish friend, who goes home with her family every summer, suggested in her gentle, unpretentious way that we plan several weeks of true vacation during home leave -- time away from visiting and shopping and medical appointments and working.

I heard her but it didn’t register, until now. I mean - we were going back for eight whole weeks and the MCC policy says “home leave should be a time of rest and connection.” Wasn’t the whole thing going to be a sort of vacation?

But I know now that home leave can be a set up for a different kind of fatigue, emotional ups and downs, and the re-facing of life choices made in leaving in the first place. Seasoned workers know this; rookies don’t.

Home leave was a time to treasure the hard-wired belonging we feel to the USA. Reconnecting with friends and family was exhilarating, meaningful and encouraging. And what pleasure - clean water, the public library, fast Internet, constant electricity, perfectly paved roads! What made it exhausting was the intensity - the condensation of three major activities: visiting, doctor appointments and shopping.

We compressed visits with many dear people into an eight-week period - it felt urgent - we aren’t coming back for two more years! We hung out 9 days each with parents, siblings, nieces and nephews in our home areas of Ohio and VA. We were out late almost every night and it was such a treat to be wined and dined, but it also knocked the concept of “bedtime” for the kids to the moon, and left us drained.

Ah and then there were the doctor appointments - getting our eyes, teeth and bodies examined. We’re grateful for full medical coverage, but we underestimated the hours we’d spend in doctors’ waiting rooms and offices.

And finally there was shopping for school clothing, shoes, books and other sundry things not easily or at all available there. But I was overwhelmed and over stimulated by the selection - walls and walls of stuff to pick from, and the prices! Outfitting the kids in sneakers, sandals and clothing in incrementally increasing sizes for two years was daunting. What size will Greg’s feet be in a year? How many pencils does a fifth grader need?

Add to that the tasks of tidying the house we rented, trying to keep the kids occupied (no small task), attending to some “can’t wait” work-related tasks and home leave became a too rich and varietals stew - too delicious and complex to fully taste, savor and digest.

But maybe the savoring and digesting comes now, back in Nigeria, in smaller bites of memory and gratitude.

I wish I could say we returned to Nigeria with great gusto and energy. To do so would be, well, a lie. But we did come back and now three weeks in, we’re starting to settle down into routines again and the enthusiasm and pep are returning.

Home leave was a time of considerable upheaval AND blessing. Returning, I’m finding, is also a time of settling back in AND blessing.

Because yesterday day Matthew, my colleague, and I sat with David Okpikpi, the zonal coordinator of our partner MCM (Missionary Crusader Ministries). We met to start planning for the next three years, but first we listed to his stories. Over six foot tall, David wrapped himself into our small office chairs and made it look comfortable. He quietly told us the infant and overall mortality rate has reduced 95% since MCC supported MCM’s efforts to train traditional birth attendants and drill four bore holes. He shares how community ownership of one bore hole now means the villagers have raised enough money to cover any anticipated repairs. He says they are in awe that some North American Christians would give them money so they could have clean water, so their babies and mothers might survive childbirth.

Just one morning spent with a partner who shares stories like that, who offers the glory to God and humbly refuses to take any credit himself for the small successes in these villages - these encounters do it for me - they pull me from homesickness and culture shock, they give me a dose of energy, they increase my faith, they clarify why we said YES! to living in Nigeria.

Home leave required me to ponder what the word “home” means. It needs to be refashioned for folks like us who have left the soil of our passport country to spend a significant amount of time in another, and in doing so, find we don’t belong to any set geographical spot.

We left home to come to Nigeria.

We left home to go to the USA to visit. (And next time we WILL plan a family vacation.)

Now we are back home. And it’s all good, and it’s all true.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Calendar Boxes

2008-05-22T14:28:00.000+01:00

The May 31 square on the MCC calendar hanging in our kitchen is uniquely decorated with a big star and the single word ABUJA.

Our family likes to mark time, and lately Greg’s been doing the honors -putting one diagonal line through each day. He really got into this lately since May 10 was his sixth birthday and of course there’s nothing like counting down the days until one’s birthday - unless it’s counting down the days until we return “home.”

And yet none of us is exactly sure just where or what home is anymore. I think we are learning to accept that we now belong to two good places while neither of them feels wholly or exactly like home.

Almost seventeen months have passed since we first arrived in Nigeria from Syracuse, New York. And now it's almost time for our first home leave. It’s almost time to drive the three and half hours to Abuja on May 31 and board the first of three planes taking us back for a long awaited visit.

For weeks now, we’ve been talking about how we get to see grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends again. We’ve been dreaming of what we want to do and see and eat and buy - the American consumer mentality still with us - I’m sorry to say!

Greg wonders what his friend Tim looks like - since he hasn’t seen him since they were both four! He wants some new Lego kits, and he frequently mentions getting to the Syracuse Real Food Coop pronto for those melt in your mouth, if not in your hand first, organic chocolate malted milk balls. (When Greg was a pre-schooler, he and I used to occasionally stroll over to the Coop in the afternoon, buy a small bag of those crunchy treats and then walk down to the park. Now those were the days!)

Val wants to drink “real” milk - meaning milk that is not constituted from dry powder. She wants some new clothes since hers are seriously worn out, (and her sense of style has changed!) and she wants to eat bologna. I tell her, after a year and a half of eating mostly whole foods, that bologna might not taste all that great anymore, but she's sure it will be great.

I look forward to seeing family and friends again, to connecting with people, being with people, eating and sharing with people I love who live on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. I do not pretend to believe that we can “catch up” and I suspect we will all quickly be reminded about the vast changes life has brought us and those we parted from. But I hope to just ENJOY being with people I have known and loved for many years.

And then there's the library, the bookstores, the coffee shops and the parks, trails and sidewalks. I dream of lacing my shoes and walking for an hour or two without anyone staring at me or yelling out “white women.”

Mark - who seems to do the best at being contented in whatever state he is in - doesn’t mention much of anything he truly looks forward to. But he’s taking his tennis racket and running shoes. And I’m pretty sure he won’t mind taking his mind off the house’s water supply which waxes and wanes here more often than the moon.

But I wonder what it will be like to return - will we have to sort again through the reality of what we “gave up’ to come to Nigeria? What will it be like to more fully understand how different our lives are now - what immense energy has gone into learning new roles, making new friends, surviving in a country with daunting challenges. I will not be surprised if sadness rises along with the joy of being back on home soil.

Mark and I will leave a busy office and mounds of good work here. Life does not stop just because we take a two month home leave, and we are grateful beyond words for the capable hands of our administrative colleague Matthew Tangbuin who will hold down the MCC office, keep partners and staff happy, visit with those stopping by to greet and generally run things in our absence. We’re not quite sure, even with his competent leadership, just what piles will await us in early August. But I know that being away will teach us anew to not take things so seriously, to prioritize, and to trust the Spirit of God who called us here and who also knows we need time away.

And I expect that as refreshing and important as this home leave might be, we will be ready to return to our friends, work, routines, home and life in Nigeria.

So we move through the month of May – and Greg keeps climbing the kitchen stool to draw lines through the boxes on the calendar.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Hillcrest Ending

2008-05-16T14:36:00.002+01:00

Hillcrest School finishes on May 23. This small, international Christian School has structured the lives and education of our children for the past ten months. We are grateful that MCC provides this quality education for them.

Valerie loves school with an intensity neither her father or I can identify with. This kid comes home, and IMMEDIATELY does her homework. And because she puts so much of herself into the learning, she consistently does well. In fact, school seems to be her hobby - as she has little interest in typical extracurricular activities. She tossed in her tennis racket for the time being because unlike with homework, her parents had to give her a pep talk every Saturday morning before tennis lessons. She’s happy to be almost done with school, but we know her well enough to predict that about halfway through the summer, even though we’ll be abroad, she’ll be bored and revved up to begin fifth grade.

This year Greg broke the reading code. He can sit for long spells, sounding out simpler words/books or “reading” books he’s memorized. He also loves to draw with a concentration so fierce his tongue looks like it's glued between his lips. And Jos’s delightful climate means he is often outside playing in the dirt, climbing trees or traipsing through the fields with his little local friends. He is excited to begin first grade and the gap in his mouth means the tooth fairy has begun to visit our home more frequently.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Grounded in Greetings

2008-04-17T10:55:00.003+01:00

West African life is rooted in relationship. An exchange of greetings is the way this value of relationships is initially and markedly clear. Asking about the well-being of people preempts any other goal - be it scheduling a meeting, asking for directions, starting a conversation or finessing a financial transaction. Greetings preface all conversations.

Hello! How did you spend the night? How is your family? Your home? How is your work?

Only after such a string of questions have been answered and echoed do individuals begin the conversation for which they have come.

While perfunctory, auto-pilot answers similar to the North American "How are you? Fine," exist here, we've learned that with people we know, trust and love we can be honest.

"How did you spend the night?"

"Okay, but not great."

"How is your family?"

"We are well, except for Greg who has a bad cough."

"Oh, may God bring healing."

"Amen."

"Thank you. How is your family?"

Greetings between friends may include a handshake and men will tap their heart or gently click their fingers after the handshake. Women may curtsey, especially if they are greeting a man or women of greater age or status.

I've lived here awhile now but I still sometimes forget to greet. Here is a composite conversation of at least several I've had lately.

I trot up the steps to MCC's second floor office. Shetu (Shay-too), the woman who helps us in with cleaning and errands in the office, sits on a bench at the landing. I burst out into my first request of the day.

"Hi Shetu, I forgot to tell you that you need to go to the post office and pick up a letter for us."

Ah, but now I am gently but firmly reprimanded by Shetu's refusal to respond to my request and her insistence on starting our relationship properly.

"How did you spend the night, Mama Valerie?" "How are Mark, Val and Greg?"
"How is your home?"

I gulp, silently accept my mistake and participate in the standard greetings. I learn that her son is well and her roof leaked last night.

Then Shetu, smiles her wry smile and says, "Sister, now what is it you wanted me to do?"

Written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Our Grieving God

2008-03-28T11:39:00.001+01:00

On Easter Sunday we heard the terrible news. The driver of a van - overloaded with women and luggage returning to Jos from Abuja, where they had been part of a women's fellowship conference - lost control of his vehicle, smashing into an earthen embankment. Seven women died.

Women who survived or witnessed the accident reported the driver hit both a dog and a pig before the fatal accident. There had been early complaints about the poor condition of the van's tires.

The women in this van were all from NKST Central Church - a Tiv speaking congregation in Jos. It is the sister church of NKST Anglo-Jos - the church our family attends. Women from our church were in a van just behind the ill-fated one; hence many of them witnessed the accident. So the women from our church were at the scene, attending to the living, accompanying badly injured women to a nearby hospital, and also riding with the bodies of those who died to a Jos mortuary.

Statements such as "It was God's will," or "It was her time to die," are not uncommon after a tragedy. When I hear these, my stomach knots up and I want to protest. I understand that they, like me, are just trying to make sense out of terrible events. This is a country where the common person seems to have little power and no consistent access to the basic things that would improve, extend and save life. Adopting a fatalistic theology that states even tragic events are part of God's plan at least offers a kind of mental opening through the impasse of senseless, preventable tragedies.

Life expectancy here is 46 years. Nigerians die young, often from treatable or preventable illnesses. The cost of a visit to the clinic and medicine may be out of their financial reach. Sometimes the medical care isn't the greatest, or they can't afford better food that would improve health. There is no ambulance or paramedic service; no 911.

Nigerians also die young from terrible accident and this happens far too often. Roads here are notoriously bad. Many are riddled with potholes or erosion. A road designed for two lanes often holds four or more rows of traffic. Everyone seems to be in a terrible hurry, which seems ironic, given so much of life here still moves at a more relaxed pace.

If you sat at the corner of any busy intersection, you'd observe the many dents, scratches and crumpled parts on the passing vehicles. Many are literally held together with wire and tape - economic survival is at work here; you drive a car until there is no more car to drive. There's no annual vehicle inspection; no mandatory driving test before obtaining a license. And many Nigerian drivers are reputed for their recklessness. It's a topic of constant conversation among and with our Nigerian friends.

I work hard to refrain from being emphatic or reactive in my statements about the unique and sometimes still startling details of life here. Usually I realize my comments say more about me than about others or culture. But I am not embellishing reality when I state that too many Nigerians drive in a manner that courts death.

I just came across a 2007 article titled "Belief and Character: Theology and Ethics of Road Safety in Nigeria," by Rev. Bitrus A. Sarma. He works to make sense of the cultural conditions that have created such road carnage. In it he quotes S.E. Asogwa, "Based on data that are at best conservative estimates, Nigeria is a country with a serious and growing road accident problem that is about the worst in the world."

So going anywhere by car is an act of faith. While I cannot say I believe God grants me special protection I am always grateful to reach a destination safely. And let me say - since mom and dad, you might be reading this! - that MCCers are always encouraged to drive defensively, to maintain and repair their cars and to take other common sense precautions here.

I'm thankful for the strong church community, family and friendship networks in Nigeria which will serve as immediate and ongoing comfort and support to the families of the women who died. I know these families will be lovingly cared for during this season of grief and readjustment. Nigerians are very good at caring for each other in times of need.

But I wish there was more outrage, more protest at the state of the roads, the poorly maintained vehicles, and the drivers who race, weave in and out of traffic and pass on curves and hills. I wish there was a health care system that provided emergency response to attend, at the scene, to the critically injured.

And I hope culturally appropriate trauma counseling and debriefing services are in place for the women involved and their families. I say this because of my only personal connection to the accident.

Every Wednesday, a lady from our church comes by the MCC office to sell moi moi (moy-moy) - a delicious snack of steamed and seasoned black eyed peas wrapped in a banana leaf. On the Wednesday after the accident, the moi-moi lady came as usual. We greeted and I asked about her Easter.

She told me that she'd been in the van just behind the doomed vehicle. Sitting in the front seat, she'd seen the accident, she'd attended to the dead and dying; she'd come back to Jos with some of the bodies. Her face was ashen as she talked. I tried to express some sympathy and care for her. She said she couldn't sleep - the images of the van turning over and smashing into an embankment flashing over and over. Then she became so overcome with emotion she walked out of my office. I pray that she'll get some help to heal from this - she was so clearly traumatized and brave in her efforts make sense of the thing.

And I was encouraged by a brief conversation at work later that day. Alice and Esther - who work in the same office complex as we - had congregated on the second floor balcony outside the MCC office. When they heard I attended the "sister" church of the women killed, they extended their hands and sympathies. And then Alice clucked in that unique, emphatic way Africans can and said. "When I heard of that accident I said right away, ‘That was reckless driving!'"

"I'm so glad you aren't saying this was God's will," I ventured to say. "I can't believe God would will this. I think God must also be mourning."

Alice nodded her head, as did Shetu, our MCC office helper, and Esther. For a brief couple of seconds we stood in silence.

The only theology, if you will, that works for me, as I think of the husbands, children and other family members grieving the loss of strong and loving women in such a senseless accident is this - that right now God cries with them. May the love of God, expressed so many times through human hands, carry them through.

Written by Brenda Hartman-Souder

Love's Labor

2008-02-21T14:46:00.002+01:00

Future MCCers write reports and conduct research.

Whoopee - we did it! I feel like a child who just handed in her book report on time, with all my i’s dotted and t’s crossed.

After four months of planning, budgeting, meeting with partners, and praying for wisdom along the way we submitted our first 87-page plan for the next fiscal year which begins March 1. Mark figured out how to “zip” the whole thing, despite our slow Internet connection, to MCC headquarters in Akron, Pa.

Okay, I admit, I like to play by the rules and I’m usually a good (meaning cooperative and hard working) student. I value completing projects on schedule. It’s my strong point (things get done) and also my weak point - what treasures and opportunities do I miss with such myopic and dogged determination to get things done? But this trait comes in handy during planning time.

Submitting last year’s reports and evaluations, along with updated and new program plans signifies plenty of writing and paper pushing. But it’s also a labor of love.

A large chunk of our work with MCC Nigeria involves partnering with Nigerian nonprofit organizations -- faith based groups with whom MCC Nigeria shares common values and priorities. In large part this means giving money to a project, although we believe (on our good days) that living here and meeting with our partners regularly adds value beyond simply writing a check.

Mark, Matthew and I go to the places where our partners do their work, where they carry out the plans we agree upon together. We visit schools where MCC supplements teacher’s salaries and provides scholarships. We attend support group meetings where HIV infected women meet to learn to live well despite their illness. We participate in meetings where plans to strengthen peace building take place. We watch women learning to make soap, jewelry or doughnuts. We travel to rural villages to visit new MCC-funded bore holes. (Matthew and I just returned from three-day trip to Taraba State - traveling hours on dusty, washboard roads to meet Nigerian missionaries who are working at a grassroots level with the Jokun-Kona tribe. Clean water, trained birth attendants and vaccinations are already lowering mortality rates there..more on that trip later!)

Visiting, observing, asking questions (along with being expected to give impromptu encouraging speeches) supplements more formal meetings with each organizations’ director, and helps us write and agree on plans that guide each partnership.

We continually learn but for the first time in 14 months, since we arrived, we now understand what each partner does, what they dream to do, and in what ways MCC Nigeria can hopefully walk alongside. The opportunity to be a small part of this dynamic and grassroots work, not without its upsets, failures and growing edges, brings moments of satisfaction. And perhaps never more so than at the end of a fiscal year, when the paperwork is completed and hopeful work lies before us, untarnished by reality, by surprises, disappointments and weariness.

As Nigerians here say “we are on it” - we are beginning.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Kano: Cloth, Kurmi Market, & the Cadence of Calls to Prayer

2008-01-31T13:59:00.001+01:00

Early January found us in Kano for the annual MCC Nigeria team retreat at the Hotel-de-France. Kano, the oldest city in West Africa, is predominantly Muslim. Hundreds of years ago, a thick mud brick wall encircled the entire city. Now, like many Nigerian cities, Kano sprawls in all directions and the city wall is more a historic relic than a boundary.

Breakfast, then singing and devotions started each day of retreat. Reverend Albert Strydhorst, from the SUM-CRC (Sudan United Mission-Christian Reformed Church) provided four thoughtful reflections on various images of God. Albert, Carolyn and their daughters Jessica, Kristin and Andrea joined us on this retreat, along with a family friend. Jessica and Carolyn creatively kept seven younger children contented and busy with morning activities during the adult devotions.
We were fortunate to have a friend of Matthew’s, our colleague, guide us through Kano’s streets (with street signs in Arabic!) and infamous traffic gluts to places of interest each afternoon.

The indigo dye pits are 500 years old. Women painstakingly tie traditional designs. Men patiently squat over the pits dipping the fabric until it is just the right intensity of blue. The process produces unique fabric, terrific for clothing, bedspreads or table cloths. Our Nigerian friends, savvy in bartering and the value of things, declared it too expensive, but we thought $40 for a five yard piece of art that took one women two weeks to tie was a pretty good deal.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, this historically important place was poorly maintained and littered with garbage. Nigeria has few spots ready for tourism; it takes a strong stomach, sturdy shoes and a brave spirit to venture out. The plus side of this is that you experience Nigeria up front and real. There is little glitzy luxury to insulate visitors from the heartbeat, the chaotic but colorful rhythm of Nigeria.

Climbing Dala Rock rewarded us with panoramic view of Kano, even on a windy, dusty day. About thirty neighborhood children followed us there; we suspect few tourists venture into that part of Kano with its gnarled, narrow and crowded streets to this well hidden spot.

A few of us ventured into the heart of ancient Kurmi Market. Male shop owners sell spices, food, leather, bronze and wood products, jewelry and woven fabric from Nigeria and other West African countries. This market, like most of Kano’s public businesses, is dominated by Muslim men and we have never been so near the calls to prayer. Bartering over batik cards from Burkina Faso, we could have reached out and touched the intricately embroidered “hulas” (close fitting caps) of the devout kneeling in praise to Allah, foreheads touching the ground.

A female contingent of our group, graciously chauffeured (ok, unceremoniously dropped off) by several of our men, spent a long afternoon at the fabric market. Stall after stall filled with every imaginable type of fabric available in West Africa - brocades, colorful wax prints, lace and linen. It’s intoxicating. I love buying fabric, and I’ve been to this fabric twice now but both times I’ve been too overwhelmed with the sheer magnitude of options available to buy much of anything!

When they weren’t selling, shop keepers were washing themselves in preparation to pray or praying. I felt awkward, as a white women, adequately clothed, but clearly not Muslim, wandering up and down those stalls. Yet being in Kano increased my respect, even awe, for how the sacred rituals of Islam permeate daily life. Ah that I might remember to stop and pray five times a day.

We think the retreat was truly that for our team of 22 - a time away to rest, fellowship, visit new spots and eat. Whoa did we eat! Kano has fantastic restaurants - we sampled Lebanese, Chinese, Italian and continental fare.

For Matthew, Mark and I, the administrative team, it was less restful but nevertheless a good time to get to know our team members and their families in different ways.

We applaud the Hotel de France, who furnished very nice rooms, had almost steady electricity and totally steady running water, and whose owner and staff responded quickly to our requests. We were grateful for safety on Nigeria’s tricky roads, as our convoy of four vehicles bumped and careened its way, stopping at mandatory police checkpoints and to buy onions and sweet chewy fresh dates along the road.

written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Empowering Women at Home & Beyond

2008-01-15T13:46:00.000+01:00

In 1994, Margaret Ahmed was a newlywed managing a guest house in northern Nigeria and supplementing her income by selling ice, homemade bread and ice cream. While she was saving money and living well, the hunger of others disturbed her.

“I’d go to church, and the wives of the church compound’s guards would come and say ‘Mama, I haven’t eaten for several days.’ “I’d say to them, ‘Why can’t you start something to earn money?’”

She got two predictable responses.

“I don’t have any (start up) money.”

“I don’t know how to make anything.”

Raised in the Christian faith, with a mother who was generous and a successful business women, Margaret had received a solid education and strong upbringing. She knew, though, that life for most Nigerians is tough. This oil rich country has the financial means to adequately care for its approximately 140 million citizens. But political/ethnic wrangling along with rampant corruption keeps 70% of its population below the poverty line. Rising costs and erratic water, fuel and electricity fill daily life with constant challenges.

Women in Nigeria juggle multiple and staggering responsibilities. Not only are they expected to marry, raise many children and manage extended family households, most of them also help provide for their families by farming or petty trading. Many are poorly educated.

So Margaret began to read Proverbs 31 over and over, sometimes ten times a day, to listen to how God was directing her to respond. She talked and prayed with her husband.

She began to individually teach willing women how to dip candles, produce soap and body creams, and bake bread using a locally produced sand oven. In 1995, she invited local women for a group workshop.

Although only five women attended, Margaret was amazed that at the follow up training one month later, the women had already started their own successful soap and bread businesses. Fired up about what they were learning and earning, the woman had spread the news.

“They did their own marketing for me and women started coming to those workshops from all over,” Margaret stated.

Thus Home Makers International of Nigeria was born. Now, 12 years later, approximately 340 women gather one Saturday a month at nine locations throughout Nigeria. They participate in discussions about marriage and family, health, the Christian faith or business skills. Then Margaret and her volunteer facilitators lead the women through “practicals” - teaching hands on skills in batik and tie dying, jewelry making, and the production of bread, soap, candles and body cream. Energy and excitement buzz through the room as women learn that simple ingredients can make things of value.

Women who perfect their skills and exhibit knowledge of basic business practices become eligible for a revolving loan of about $70. Ninety-seven percent of the loans are repaid.

MCC Nigeria provides a small grant to support Home Makers’ activities. Margaret dreams of building a women’s center and renting a guest house where she could teach women hotel management skills and earn steady income for Home Makers. These dreams wait while she seeks funding.

Margaret, now 43, credits her husband’s active support in helping Home Makers succeed. She acknowledges her marriage enjoys considerably more equality and mutuality than many in Nigeria.

Woman approach her and ask how she got her husband to do menial tasks. “They can’t believe he would help me like he does,” Margaret laughs. Industriousness and creativity has also rubbed off on her two daughters, aged 6 and 11; both make and sell jewelry to pay their own school fees.

Margaret is inspired and energized by the women who attend her workshops, grasp what they have learned and then put it to good use. They grab her on the street to excitedly describe their small businesses and steady successes.

Margaret laughs, “Sometimes their husbands will approach me and ask ‘What did you do to my wife? She’s changed!’” Margaret concedes that some husbands are threatened as their wives learn skills, start businesses and make money. With time they usually appreciate their confident and self directed wives who are now able to put better food on the table and pay their children’s school tuition.

Like the woman of noble character in Proverbs, Margaret has humbly committed her skills, energy, education and deep faith to not only care for her own household but serve others. In Nigeria, a country where hope for the well-being of families sometimes seems dim, her work of training and transformation is good news indeed.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

A version of this article first appeared in the Nov/Dec 2007 issue of Timbrel

Sweet Lemons

2007-12-27T09:46:00.000+01:00

On the Sunday afternoon following Thanksgiving, I grabbed a bucket from the back porch and took Greg and Val in search of lemons. Fresh-squeezed lemonade was our final objective.

Our compound is full of citrus and mango trees as well as the occasional guava and avocado. Trees growing in the grassy open spaces don’t belong to anyone in particular and their fruits are free for the picking. We walked to the tree I’d seen studded with lemons when visiting friends. I gave the branches a robust shaking while Greg and Val chased after the green-yellow fruits tumbling to the ground. The lemons made a dull thud as they quickly filled the bottom of the bucket.

“This is fun!” declared Greg as he dodged falling fruit and bent to collect lemons.

“Well, we couldn’t do this back home!” I responded.

“Home” in our passport country is Syracuse, New York. It’s about 3 growing zones too cold for tropical lemon trees and by late November the gardens and orchards there have been laid to rest for the winter.

“Yeah, that’s why I said I want to live here for a long time!” quipped Greg.

Now I don’t remember him saying that. I do remember him making quite a few clear and vociferous statements exactly the opposite of wanting to live here for a good chunk of his childhood. But I stayed silent, grateful for his way of saying he likes it here.

I thought about how a year ago we were still pretty scared about moving here, and how the first few months upon arrival were so upsetting to each of us, in various ways, as we sought to make Nigeria our home.

But here we were on a sunny, warm Sunday afternoon, picking juicy lemons and talking calmly about staying here a good, long time. A slow but firm settling in, and finding our niche has started to occur. We’re not as fearful or anxious even though life here has risks and definite challenges. We know the hang of things, more or less. School for the kids and work for us is more predictable (or we now know it is totally unpredictably some days!). We understand more of the history, culture, expectations, routines and schedules. Life here, like anywhere, is a mix of beauty, agony, joy, worry, hard work, rest and praying for some balance in the mix.

We didn’t formally celebrate Thanksgiving this year - out of context it seemed weird - but we are grateful for innumerable gifts of friendship, health, safety, well being and juicy fruit growing throughout the year all around us.

The lemonade was delicious too.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Greetings from Nigeria

2007-12-22T15:26:00.000+01:00

Here's a brief introduction to those of you who may be accessing this site without knowing us all that well, with an intentional effort not to bore the socks off of those of you who know us pretty well.

Nigeria: 1997-2000
Mark and I first lived in Nigeria from 1997-2000 when we served with MCC Nigeria in a capacity building position. Our three years were tough as we learned to adjust to a climate, culture and setting very different from North American life. We met some terrific people who became our friends, and learned to appreciate much about this West African nation. Valerie was born to us in 1998 during that term; a huge surprise since we came to service with MCC after giving up on the hope of having children.

Re-Settled in US: 2000-2005
Then we went home to Syracuse, New York, where we returned to typical urban living. Mark worked full-time in graphic design and marketing for a small non-profit organization. I tended the home front and Greg was born in 2002.

Our journey back: 2005-2006
But in 2005, an invitation from MCC to return to Nigeria to fill the leadership post there jolted us right out of our comfortable little life. It became clear that as much as part of us didn't want to return to Nigeria, didn't want to leave our cozy home, easy friendships, supportive church and strong neighborhood, mysteriously God was once again asking us to serve, this time with two little kids. Plus, Nigeria, despite its substantial difficulties, kind of grows on a person (maybe we should just speak for ourselves here); and we felt a tug that surprised us.

Wrestling with that decision was exhausting, but ultimately freeing. There are some dangers in living here; road safety, illnesses and robbery among the ones we think of most; but we also recognized the dangers in staying in the states - like getting too comfortable with our middle class existence and raising our children in what often seems like a consumer-focused and grabbing lifestyle. We wanted our kids to have the best opportunities possible to develop their own faith, choose a life of service and be globally minded. Such opportunities can exist anywhere. But ultimately, we had to ask - How safe is staying home when God asks you to leave?

So, there's the short spin. We made the decision to come. We consulted with family, who love us enough to give us their blessing even though they miss us (and we them); we collaborated with a wonderful support group of friends from our church, community and neighborhood to walk with us from mostly Syracuse, NY; we rented our house; we planned, cried, grieved and said goodbye.

Settling In: 2007
And that brings us back to January 1, almost a year ago, when we arrived. Living here's been tough and it's been wonderful. Valerie (9) and Greg (5), forced to accompany their parents, now experience Nigeria as their home. They attend Hillcrest School, a Christian international school right in Jos, approximately halfway between our home and office! School, with an American curriculum, but a multi-cultural staff and student body, provides structure and friendships along with an excellent education.

We live on a large brick walled compound which houses several non profit organizations, guest houses, and about 12 other homes. There is plenty of space around our home and lots of area between the homes for gardening and raising goats and chickens.

Hopes for this blog
This blog will be our attempt to share what's hard, what's inspiring, what's confusing, what's frightening, what's humbling and what's thought-provoking. We hope you will learn a bit about Nigeria, its citizens, culture, challenges, and signs of hope from a perspective that may be markedly different from the general media.

My biggest hope is that you will learn about the people we meet and learn to know in our work of partnering with Nigerian organizations in the areas of HIV/AIDS, education, income generation, peace, and health. They are the reason we are here; their stories, hopes, commitment, faith, persistent service and advocacy for the "the least of these" is really the heart of why we live in Nigeria now.

Written by: Brenda Hartman-Souder

Brenda or the entire family: hartmansouder@gmail.com
Mark: mark.edwin59@gmail.com
Valerie: lilah.valerie@gmail.com