R-E-S-P-E-C-T

(This is also a postdated blog entry. I'm trying to catch up from the past 2 weeks.)

Respect is the best part about living in Nigeria, hands-down. This culture absolutely thrives on respect. From what I’ve observed, it seems to be the backbone of this society. The primary way respect is shown is through greeting everyone. Absolutely everyone, every time you see them, regardless of the last time you greeted them! In America, it would be enough to say, “hi” and “hi” back, but here, a typical greeting looks like this:
Me: “Good morning, Mrs. Ngozi. How are you?”
Mrs. Ngozi: “Good morning, Maggie. I’m fine, how are you?”
Me: “I’m good [you can take the girl out of America…]. How was your night?”
Mrs. Ngozi: “It was fine. How was yours? Are you settling in okay?”
Me: “It was fine, we had company over for dinner and yes, I am settling in very well. Everyone has been very helpful, thank you.”
[about 5 minutes later]
Me, passing Mrs. Ngozi to get a cup of tea: “Good morning, Mrs. Ngozi.”
Mrs Ngozi: “Thank you, good morning, Maggie.”

Greetings are also an essential part of every verbal exchange. I am expected to greet someone before asking them a question of any kind, especially for a favor. I broke this rule on my second day of teacher orientation, and while I couldn’t identify the nature of the look the acting principal gave me, I soon learned why. I had I waltzed into her office and asked for bulletin board cloth without greeting her first and couldn’t place the incredulous look on her face. It’s twice as bad because I hadn’t actually seen her yet that day, so I failed to even given her the required first greeting! Of course, grace and patience are also an important part of this culture, and everyone seems to give me an extra measure because I am American and because I am young, which I appreciate heartily.

Along with greetings, and with introductions particularly, instead of saying something like “pleased to meet you,” Nigerians use the phrase, “you’re welcome.” This phrase, which, when spoken sounds like “yah-well-comb,” is used to welcome a person to a physical location (like a student into a classroom) or into a group of people (like a new teacher joining a staff), or, in my case, welcoming me to Nigeria in general. It is repeated several times in one conversation to reassure one another that their presence is recognized and appreciated. Wives especially use this phrase when their husbands come home from work in the evening. Failure to leave what she is doing, going over to greet her husband, and welcoming him home is a sign of disrespect.

Respect also carries over into religious beliefs as well. As you may know, Abuja is split between Islam and Christianity. It is strange to me that in the market, I am just as likely to buy rice from a Muslim as I am a Christian—I have never experienced those kind of equal ratios before! It is such an example to me to hear Christians talk about Muslims they know personally with no tinge of prejudice or superiority. Through their example, the Lord has really been stirring my heart in regards to the Muslim community here in Nigeria. At first I interpreted these Christians’ unbiased comments as universalism or pluralism, but I was mistaken. They aren’t pluralists, they realize that Islam is an empty religion, but the way they talk to and about Muslims just drips of respect. It is truly beautiful to live in a city where Muslims and Christians live and walk side-by-side and that while I can internally recognize the eternal fruitlessness of their beliefs, I can give them the basic respect they’re owed as human beings.
Side note: these kinds of experiences I've had are unique to Abuja. In the north, Muslims are hostile to Christians. It appears that I have landed in a city that "isn't the real Nigeria," especially these respectful religious exchanges. All the same, I've been impressed by the respect I've seen thus far.

Last anecdote on respect, or How I Can Already Spot an American a Mile Away:
I walked into my 6th grade Lit class on the first day of school and everyone stood up and said in unison, “Good morning, Miss Thomas.” I was absolutely floored with their respect for me, but pleasantly surprised (I couldn’t imagine a similar scene occurring in the States!).
As I entered my 7th grade Lit class later that day, most of the students greeted me (albeit not standing, but still in their seats with their hands folded on the desks) except for one young man. He looked just like all my other Nigerian students except that he slouched sideways in his chair, one arm draped over the back. He watched me walk in, apparently unimpressed. I walked up to him, stuck out my hand and said, “Good morning; my name is Miss Thomas.” His response? “Uh, hi.” I smiled to myself and asked, “Are you American?” He raised a eyebrow and said, “yeah.” And I secretly congratulated myself for being able to pick the American after only 9 days. :)