You NEED to read this

This is the most inspirational blog young woman I've ever read about:

KissesFromKatie.blogspot.com

She makes me feel surprised, convicted, inspired, and ultimately, she makes me want to do MORE. More than I'm already doing in my marble-floored, granite-countertopped, air-conditioned apartment in the (arguably) wealthiest city in Nigeria.

Oh, God, that I would endeavor to center myself in the middle of your plan for my life, following Katie's example.

Merry Christmas to me!

All I really wanted for Christmas was my visa...and I got my wish today!

I didn't get exactly what I applied for, but that's Nigerian Immigration for you. I did get an STR visa, and I will be returning to Abuja, as scheduled on January 1st, which is the whole point.

There are a couple conditions: it's only good for 3 months and is single-entry only. The practical ramifications mean that I can enter Nigeria in January and can leave at any time, but I will not be allowed back in (This is not an ideal situation, clearly.). Furthermore, I have 3 months to convert this visa into a semi-permanent work permit. This shouldn't be a problem.

So I'm headed back to Nigeria. And I'll be bringing my new Kindle. Which might be my second-best Christmas wish. Merry Christmas, indeed!

Home for the Holidays

I'm safe & sound, back on U.S. soil. It is so good to be home. Although, home looks a bit different than when I left in August. Firstly, it looks like this outside:

And like this:

There was an approximate 80-degree difference between leaving Nigeria on Saturday and arriving in Minneapolis on Sunday. Good times.

Home looked a bit different inside, too. Apparently, my mom is something of an elf...and has been working on a total bedroom makeover for me the past 4 months. I'm really enjoying the fruits of her labor:

There's been 3 floral prints adorning these walls for the past 16 years.

My initial reaction: "I have a big-girl bedroom now!" It's so beautiful. A million thanks to Mom, Dad, and Sarah, who helped get it ready by Sunday. I have a legit reading corner now! And throw pillows!!! I feel like such a grownup!

I'm just soaking up time with family and loved ones right now. Kinda like recharging my batteries for the next 6-month push.

It's bound to be a wonderful Christmas.


If you were keeping track...Christmas Countdown: 0.

What's in a Name?

Forgive the Shakespeare reference in the title, please. I AM a Literature teacher, after all.

There have been 5 babies born at ICS this fall, and I think we're expecting 4 more before the end of the January. It was a group effort, but seriously...I wonder what's in the water?!

Mrs. N, one of the teachers who leads Drama Club with me, had a baby girl last week. This is girl #3, and when I saw the big sister, E, I congratulated her and asked her sister's name. E frowned up at me, arms encircled around my waist, and said, "I don't know yet. Duh."

Okay, so actually, she didn't say "duh," but she might as well have by the tone of her voice.

Sensing a need for some culture-divining and quick, I stopped by the Science Lab to talk with Mr. D, Mr. J, and Mr. L. They were happy to inform me that in Nigerian culture, modeled after the biblical tradition, babies are not named until the 8th day. On the 8th day, a naming ceremony takes place and the child is given names by their parents, grandparents and other important family members. I suddenly understood why my students distinguish between their 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and sometimes 5th names.

Yesterday was the 8th day and I was so privileged to attend the naming ceremony. The parents and grandmother were decked out in lavish Nigerian dress, big head-ties and all. I felt like they were sharing a secret with me: a piece of culture so foreign to me yet so significant to them.

After an hour of praise & worship African-style, the family distributed small slips of paper with the baby's name printed on it. E (the big sister) was sitting on my lap when the slips reached us. She was so excited to finally read her sister's names. I got really excited, too!

Mrs. N's baby girl is named Ogochukwu Chioma Keren-Happuch Precious Emenike.

The names all mean different things, but the theme is God's goodness and preciousness. Obviously, 2 are Nigerian but Keren-Happuch is Hebrew (it's the name of Job's youngest daughter born after his trial).

After we heard the explanations of the names, E smiled up at me and told me she plans to call her baby sister Keren. I think she'll be outvoted - everyone kept referring to the baby as Chioma after the initial announcement.

Then the most marvelous thing happened. They prayed each name of the child as a blessing over her. It was like the West's baby dedication, but it was all tied up in the significance of the names. I've never seen anything like it and I can't really do it justice but it totally choked me up.



That same evening, a Nigerian friend of ours stopped by. He's been instrumental in furthering my understanding of culture, so I was telling him about the naming ceremony and he taught me how to properly pronounce the Igbo names (i.e. the w in Ogochukwu is silent). I asked him for Nigerian names of my own and he was happy to oblige:

Enemi and Agifa.

These names, pronounced ey-ney-MEE and ah-gee-FAH, each have special significance. Enemi is a true friend or companion. Agifa refers to that which is precious, like a pearl. (I had previously told him that my name is Greek for pearl.)

I'm not going to change my name while I'm home Christmas or anything, but these names are really special to me now. It really helps with the whole cultural-adaptation thing.


For those of you keeping track, we're at T-52 hours and 10 minutes until takeoff. Just sayin'.

Thoughts on Home

Those of you who began "following" me after I moved to Nigeria may not know that MaggieInNigeria used to be MaggieInChicago. The blog from that time in my life is here, and it was a useful tool of expression while in undergrad. I was reviewing some of the posts I wrote in the last year and a half, and am amazed at the way life has changed, and at the way God has provided.

12.31.08, "Here's to 2009 and all the changes it will bring. I can't wait!"
(Now THAT'S the understatement of the year!)

10.08.2008. On life after college graduation: "I have no plans as of right now. Due to my procrastination and the impractical nature of my liberal arts education, I'll be wandering aimlessly back to my parents' basement and waking up at 4am to serve espresso to the highly ambitious."
(Wrong. I'll be living in West Africa, making it on raw independence and the mercy of God. Interesting how life changes!)

And finally, this, on 8.12.08: "All these existential feelings have left this ache in me that I can only explain as wanting to go home. And the problem with going home is that home is a really fuzzy concept for me right now...home has so much less to do with location and so much more to do with people. Right now, home is still with my family and my best friends, but home [is also Wheaton]...Even if I wanted to keep all the pieces together, home is going to be spread out between states and people that I love and care about and no place is going to feel entirely like home. I wonder when that will change. I wonder if that will change."

This is the one I want to focus on, because it is the one that has changed the most. Ready?

Home is not a fuzzy concept anymore.

I left behind my ambiguous idea of home about the same time that I left the North American continent. Moving to Nigeria made a lot of things clear to me, but especially this: I have a home, and it's not here. Home is in the middle of the frozen tundra. Home is with Tony and OrganizedAudrey and Jake.

This realization has positives and negatives. It means that I am beyond-excited to come home for Christmas, but it also means that I'm holding my new Nigerian community at arm's length - I don't want to grow too attached. It means that I appreciate my family and even the Minnesota weather more than ever. It also means I am hesitant to put art on the walls here - it seems useless to make the flat I live in feel like home because it isn't home and it can't be.

I find this a very peculiar reaction, because I usually have no problem moving into a new place and making it feel like home. It took all of 1.5 semesters to begin calling Wheaton College "home." And when I lived and worked briefly in Chicago suburbs this summer, I settled right in. No problem.

It may be an incorrect analysis, but I think my heart may be guarded this time against the "home" feeling because God has other plans for me, beyond Nigeria. At this point, I don't see myself staying here forever.

(And I'm not saying this won't change. It's just how I feel about home after 4 months living in a completely different country.)

Whatever the reason, I feel peaceful that home has a street address.

It always did. I just forgot.