what else?

Surprise, surprise. I'm missing Nigeria. Again. Still.

homesick for Nigeria

I'm missing me some Nigerian kids right about now.

excuse the advertisement, please.

I know this is not the right venue for an advertisement.

And if you're reading this right now, chances are you came here looking for the posts from my year in Nigeria. Which is great. And you can still find them all below. And I thank you for stopping by.

But first, can I tell you about what I'm doing now?

About how it's changing lives? And changing the face of higher education?

Rivendell Sanctuary is a residential 18-month program which offers an Associate of Arts.

That's nothing extraordinary I suppose. There are other places offering 18-month AAs.

The thing is, ours is extraordinary. Honestly. I don't know of another group doing what we do, offering what we offer in the way we offer it.

• 30 students are matched with 4 faculty members and never change classes, classrooms or professors. Learning is based on relationships. This group lives together, learns together, grows together. Welcome to the IN-COMM education model: learning within community.
• Knowledge is the pinnacle of the traditional education model, but whatever happened to Godly wisdom? Rivendell recognizes the importance of knowledge insofar as it is the means to wisdom. This is the difference between your bumper sticker honor students and Students of Honor.
• We're not trying to replace the current education model. We're just trying to be a stepping stone into it. We recognize that a traditional university education is an importance step in terms of social status and achievement. But what if we could give you the first two years in a environment designed to ensure you will not fail, not in our program or anyone else's?
  

I am so excited about the future of Rivendell Sanctuary I want to scream it from the rooftops. Which is why I'm blogging about it on a blog which, for all intents and purposes, is out of commission.

If you're curious, please contact me: maggie@rivendellsanctuary.com. Check out our website, find us on Facebook, follow us on Twitter.

Ask. Learn. Come. Transform.

sadness

It's been a tough evening of missing Nigeria. Lots of tears.

Read more of my "processing" thoughts here.

just a reminder...

MaggieInNigeria is now MaggieInMinnesota.

Click over to stay up-to-date!

365 days of life

Post (and a picture!) on seeing Mrs. O and Mercy last night in Minneapolis.

Also, a small reflection on the fact that 365 days ago, I decided to move to Nigeria.

on culture shock

I just wrote about integrating the Nigerian greeting custom back into my life in America.

You can read the full post at my other blog here.

perspective

When I arrive at the end of my life, it will not be the things I've done that I regret, but the things I've failed to do.

Maggie is no longer in Nigeria, so this chapter is coming to a close. Your support has been invaluable; thank you for reading along. I'm moving back to maggieemmathomas.blogspot.com, although it looks a bit different! Feel free to move with me.

you can stop holding your breath

I know you were really worried, but you'll sleep easily tonight knowing that EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. of my blood smears came back negative.

I do NOT have malaria.

I do NOT have Erlichiosis or Babesiosis (blood parasites).

I actually made it through an entire school year in Nigeria without getting tragically sick. Praise God.

At least I was prepared. For a whopping N250 ($1.63), I brought this back, just in case:


Fansidar is a common malaria treatment. I figured having this on hand could save me a lot of headaches, ICU visits, and medical bills. Just sayin'.

And yes, that's a bottle of Nigerian groundnuts I unknowingly smuggled through customs. I may or may not be hoarding them, trying to make them last longer.

I miss it all. Everything. Badly.

nothing like drawing blood in the morning

In an effort to allay fears and to be medically proactive, I had a full lab workup this morning testing for, among other things, parasites and malaria. It's just kind of peace of mind, you know?

Also, I'm sure there's a bet somewhere among friends and/or family pertaining to me and chloroquine-resistant mosquitoes. So, consider the lab result a settled score.

These blood tests are routine to me now - I had them all done in December, too - but the poor nurse this morning hadn't prepared slides like this in a while. Her name tag indicated she was a temp (who knew they had nurse temps?!) and she seemed older to me. While only 6 slides were needed, she probably took 15 trying to get it smeared right.

She asked me about Africa in the way that well-meaning strangers ask me about Africa. It usually goes something like this:
"Oh, wow, Nigeria, huh?"
Yep.
"Did you like that?"
Yep.
"I'll bet that was real interesting."
Did you want me to pull out my slideshow and storybook or should I just let you get back to work?

Okay, I don't say that last part. But I think it.

After a similar exchange with the nurse, she said offhandedly, "You know, that's real neat. I wish my kids would do something like that. They just keep popping babies out. I'm like, 'Couldn't you find another hobby?'"

Nurses say the darnedest things.

P.S. Lab results due next week. I'll keep you posted on this nail-biter.

the eyes have it

You know who's really great? My optometrist.

I've been with the same doctor for years and she is always so excited for me and what's new in my life. She was a saint to introduce me to my favorite contacts ever (Focus Night & Days) - what contact-wearing college student wouldn't be thrilled to have 24-hour 30-day contacts, I ask you.

I remember telling her I was moving to Nigeria and would potentially experience some dusty conditions (oh sweet deluded me, I had no idea what Harmattan would be like). She made me promise to take out my lenses nightly to reduce the risk of corneal infection, which I did, faithfully.

You have to understand, I'm pretty serious when it comes to my eyes. They're probably my most beloved body part. (Oh, come on, you know you have your favorite, too - cute toes, rockin' abs, gorgeous hair, etc.) I've had a very serious relationship with my eyes since I was in 2nd grade. I first got glasses at age 8, went into my first pair of gas permeable contacts at age 10, had my first set of corneal ridges at 15; I mean, I've been around the Eye Care block. When it comes to my eyes, I just don't mess around.

So when my eye doctor tells me to take out my lenses every night in Africa because of corneal infections, you'd better believe I do exactly what she says.

Flash forward to Harmattan season, when my right contact quite literally leaps off my eyeball in the middle of my 6th grade class (awkward). When I got back to the States, I more or less gave up on contacts and have been in glasses pretty consistently for the past week. I went in to see the doctor this morning, and apparently I brought back an extra souvenir from Nigeria!

Turns out, I have developing blisters on the inside of my eyelids. NASTY. These blisters grab at my contact lenses and move them out of place when I blink. My doctor is chalking it up to "environmental causes"...also known as living in Nigeria.

After a week of very limited contact wear, copious amounts of eye drops (yes I'm going to be that girl once an hour for the next week), and a new brand of lenses, my eyes should be back to normal.

It's so nice to know that my eyes are in good hands. Well, sort of.

Some unsolicited advice? If you're moving to Nigeria, wear glasses.

immersion

I went to Target today.

Actually, I forced myself to go to Target after consciously (and subconsciously) dragging my feet all day long. I was scared of the explosion of consumerism. I was afraid I would cry or have an anxiety attack in the middle of Target or something equally as dramatic as wearing native Nigerian dress to Target.

So I went. In jeans and a tshirt and flipflops. I went and I pushed my cart through the aisles (and aisles and aisles). I got the ten or so things on my list and while any other Target run would find me traipsing through the rest of the aisles just browsing finding other things to buy, I couldn't do it.

I was already overwhelmed by all the other shoppers, on some kind of silent race to pull everything off the shelves in 30 seconds or less, all while on their cellphones. (As an aside, when did it become okay to discuss your divorce in the middle of the dental hygiene aisle?) Nobody looked at anybody else. Nobody apologized when the carts bumped into each other. They just beelined from aisle to aisle, shushing children, asking for price checks.

Admittedly, I felt the pangs of anxiety rising as I left the shampoo and conditioner aisle. Firstly, because THERE IS AN ENTIRE AISLE JUST FOR SHAMPOO AND CONDITIONER. Secondly, because I had this urge to scream (unnecessarily, inappropriately, and cruelly), "What are we doing?! Who are we?! Why are we doing this?! What is the meaning of all this?!"

Of course, an outburst would have solved nothing. Mostly it would have aggravated me, because as those silent-but-screaming-inside-my-head questions arose, I realized I was unable to even identify what "this" might be. I ticked through options in nanoseconds: Consumerism? Unavoidable. Going through the motions? Maybe. Keeping up with the Joneses? Probably.

None of those options are satisfactory, though, because none of them are limited to America. So I'm left back at zero. No answers, just silent screaming.

Culture shock is strange. Present and real, but strange. Unexpected.

linger

I am definitely back, in all senses of the word, but bits of Nigeria still linger with me.

My body is fighting me to stay on Africa time. No, for real. This morning I was up at 4:30am and awake for the day.

I catch myself saying "sorry," "ah-ah," and "well done" to people who don't understand the depth of meaning in those sentiments.

I spend too much time finding YouTube videos of people speaking pidgin, just so I can hear it again.

The phrases "Well in Nigeria, I..." or "When I was in Nigeria..." have already been worn out on friends & family.

I'm introduced to new people as the girl who just returned from Africa and I'm okay with that identity. I find myself desperate to let people know that I belong in two places in this world, and that is a huge part of who I am now.

God knew that the "homesickness" was creeping in, and yesterday at church, I spotted a woman wearing a traditional gown. My stomach clenched; I just knew she was Nigerian. Even though batik cloth is not limited to Nigeria and even though sometimes I fake myself out with Ghanaian styles, I knew. I think what I actually said aloud was, "Ah-ah. That's Nigerian cloth." My mom, ever the encourager, told me to go talk to her. And I did.

Turns out, she's from Delta State and has been living here for 10 years. When I told her I'd just returned, she replied with the greeting, "Oh, you're welcome" and it sounded like "Ah, ya well-comb." It was music to my ears! My Nigerian accent came out in force and it felt so fulfilling to say "well done" to this woman and mean it in the most African way possible.

I'm very clearly not in Nigeria, and yet her customs, her traditions, they linger with me. It's a comfort - like having a friend nearby if ever I need her.

I guess this is welcome home.

finally

I knew I would love fast internet, I just didn't know how much I would love it! I can finally share with you the long-awaited photos of everything I've been talking about on this blog. Notice especially the pictures of the Mechanics' Park/Soccer Game.

To view the album of my entire year in Nigeria, please visit this Facebook Link. Comment away!

Please and thank you.

I'm Baaaack!

Arrived in the USA this afternoon (CST) after a few shenanigans at the Abuja Airport (of course)!

Security checked my bags (went poking through my pictures and told me they wanted to keep them...I said no), then my bags were weighed (all of them overweight; I begged a little and was not charged extra fees!), then I waited forever (plane was late) but got to say another goodbye to two students whose families were on my same flight!

I'll be honest - I cried at takeoff. It's fair to say I miss Nigeria already.

But I had quite the welcoming home party at the Minneapolis airport! My family and two of my dear friends came to greet me; tears, hugs, and yellow roses all around!

God is good, and though I am mourning Nigeria, it's good to be home.

it's the last time

This is my last post from Nigeria. I have been so blessed this year and I am leaving with only good memories to carry me through.

Thank you for reading along with me on this adventure. Your feedback has been invaluable to me.

Blessings from here to wherever you are,
Maggie

can i just be done?

Fact for the day: Goodbyes are draining.

Today was the staff fun day at the school. I played soccer for the 2nd time in my life, anchored in tug-of-war, and emceed a singing and dancing competition. It was so fun to go out on a good note. Saying goodbye to everyone was not easy, though I had gotten the heavy-hitting ones over with yesterday.

This evening I was actually double-booked. First I had dinner with friends from church, the people with whom I watched Parent Trap last weekend. Their 8-year-old daughter wanted to learn the movie's secret handshake tonight, and I was happy to oblige. After that was a piggyback race all over the house, reading books, and animal charades. When bedtime came around, I learned that goodbyes aren't any easier on 8-year-olds. It was pretty tough to say goodbye to that fabulous family. After dinner, I buzzed over to Bible Study with more church friends and said more goodbyes.

Tomorrow morning I'm going to the airport early to say goodbye to my flatmate Jan who will be heading to UK for the summer. Then I'll be packing like mad.

In the afternoon I'm headed to a friend's house for some friend time and--hopefully--some pool time, too...even more goodbyes.

Which is not to say that I'm numbering my friends as goodbyes, but it's that nagging thought at the back of my head: You're my friend, I love you, our goodbye will be tough.

By the time I get home, I suspect it won't only be jet lag that makes me exhausted...these goodbyes are really doing a number on me, too.

i take it back

That last post I wrote? About trying to keep it together?
I take it back.

Not only have I NOT kept it together today, but I no longer
feel I NEED to.

A received an encouraging email which included the following:

"You can let yourself feel all those emotions and let them break you, knowing that they are so strong because you have been blessed so abundantly with TWO homes on this earth. You don't have to pick. You can belong to both if you want."

I have been blessed--incredibly--by this year in Africa. I got neck-deep in culture so quickly that this place does have a certain feeling of home to it. I will always feel like I belong here, even if I didn't spend years and years. I forget that God blessed me with a heart big enough to encompass two cultures, and forcing myself to pick one isn't fair to me or to God who made me this way!

So in the name of not keeping it together and not needing to, let me tell you about my un-kept-together evening.

Mrs. O hosted a lovely sendoff party for the 4 of us departing teachers. In ICS's 12 years, never have they sent forth so many teachers at once...not a lot of turnover here.

Every teacher from the whole school gathered for a small program (all events have programs here...complete with an emcee!), good food, gifts, goodbyes, songs, cake and ice cream, and pictures! I thought it would just be fun and laughter, and while we had that, it was also incredibly emotional. Everybody was crying!

I was put on a "hot seat" where people could say things about/to me and share stories, which was incredibly touching. One of the teachers, Mrs. A, described me as a strong, brave, and bold woman, and there was a hearty "mm-hmm" from the others - how affirming! Another teacher commented that I adjusted more in my several months than she did in several years. Still another said I have an important teacher quality - the ability to get down to my students' level and then to bring them up. A few of them remarked that they expected me to marry a Nigerian man (no surprise there!) since I have so embraced the Nigerian culture.

It was so rewarding to hear that my coworkers recognize the efforts I've made to adapt. As we say in Nigeria, "I tried-o," which means that I gave it my best and was met with some degree of success.

Later in the program, they asked the 4 of us to stand together and receive a prayer of blessing by Mr. O, who's on the school's advisory board. He began to pray this incredible faith-filled prayer, sending us forth, blessing us, and empowering us for what God has next. When he began to praise God for his mercy which has gotten us to where we are and will continue to guide us, I totally lost it.

God's undeserved love is really the core of my feelings about this year. It's only by God's grace that I stumbled upon the advertisement. Only by his mercy that I didn't totally suck as a teacher. Only by his mercy that I didn't fall sick with malaria or schistosomiasis or giardia or typhoid. Only by his grace that I fell in love with my students and they with me.

Right, so I'm bawling through the prayer. Not polite little tears rolling down cheeks, either. The really ugly crying with the splotchy swollen face and the snotty nose and mascara-y tears. U-g-l-y. It's been a long time since I've ugly-cried, because it's so unpleasant.

After the prayer came the hugs. I'm a really touchy-feely person, but somewhere in the last 6 months, I've started giving that up (NOT HEALTHY) because I didn't want to get too attached (AGAIN, NOT HEALTHY). Somewhere in The Five Love Languages, I'm sure Gary Chapman explains how detrimental it is for a physically affectionate person to deprive themselves of their primary love language. I refer you there.

So I received all these meaningful hugs tonight--not sideways, not A-frame, not 8-year-old neck-strangling hugs--but real, genuine, tender hugs from women who love me and have watched over me and taught me and guided me. It was more than I could take, honestly. I just cried and cried and cried. I would get it all cried out and and stop the gasping breathing long enough to thank these women for what they've done for me and for just being them, and then another woman who has played an important role in my last 10 months would come up and I would start all over again. Again, it's the ugly cry.

When put in perspective, though, it has to be an ugly cry. This is an ugly goodbye. It's not against my will...I mean, I did sign up for this when I didn't renew my contract...but it doesn't make it easy or cut-and-dried or even professional. My job this year has been incredibly relational and personal, so the goodbyes have to be, too. And considering that I may never see some of these women again, it has to be ugly, too.

Here's to the ugly cry, to the women who have helped make me who I am at this moment in time, and to the place I can finally admit feels like home.

just 3 days.

taking my mind off it*

* it = impending doom

This weekend has been SO MUCH FUN. It's been incredibly emotional, but for the sake of my sanity, allow me to table those emotions and focus on the excitement.

Saturday morning I loafed around the house, watching movies and packing half-heartedly. In the evening I got myself on over to M&M's house...they're Americans doing full-time ministry work here and their family also goes to Abuja Ark Church. We had pizza and watched Parent Trap together. It felt so normal to be with them and enjoy family time. I mean, I'm not trying to graft myself into theirs, but it reminded me of my own family's pizza & game nights.

I took a big leap out of my comfort zone and did the corporate prayers in Church this morning. Praying publicly is something in which I'm a bit...how shall we say?...out of practice. But I've had a lot of time to think about why corporate prayer is so important, and it comes down to this (and this I shared with the congregation): the Body of Christ is meant to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. We pray to a God who knows the words on our lips before they are even spoken, but public prayer allows us to stand together in our joys and trials. It allows the body of Christ to encourage the afflicted as they are patient in tribulation and also rejoice in hope with those who are triumphant (Romans 12:12).

After church, a whole gang of us went lunch at Silverbird, where I said more goodbyes and made more plans for further goodbyes. (Sensing a trend here?) Tonight, another group of us is going out for fish. Apparently, this is an essential part of Nigerian nightlife that I have yet to experience. Who knew?! So, I'm making up for lost time tonight and going out with friends.

Tomorrow and Tuesday are working days. I have plans with friends in the evenings--I'm even double-booked on Tuesday. Wednesday is sanity day. Thursday is freak out/get my crap together day. Thursday night I'm on a plane.

So much for tabling the emotions.


4 days 'til takeoff.

keeping it together...sort of

It's all over but the crying, folks.

8th and 12th Grade graduation was Thursday evening. I was on the committee to plan it (It seems we have committees for everything in Nigeria!) and emceed the event, too. We graduated our own Grade 12 for the first time in ICS history. In the past, it's been correspondence diplomas with University of Nebraska Lincoln.

According to the family-oriented priorities of the school, parents were involved in the diploma ceremony. Each family was called to the stage as their child accepted their diploma. When you only have 16 graduates, you can afford to take the time!

I was full of pride in these students, though part of me didn't feel I had the right. I've been with these kids for the past 10 months. Some of the teachers present had literally watched them grow up--one teacher said the 8th grade grads had been in her preschool class! I don't have that kind of history with these kids, but I'd like to think I've made a difference in some small way.

Following the ceremony, we took pictures and I started the goodbyes. I teach a pair of sisters, one in grades 6 & 8, and they left graduation to go to the airport on their way home for the summer. I said goodbye to the younger one, and she absolutely broke down. It was crushing, to be honest. There were several other goodbyes like that one.

(It occurs to me that I'm having trouble finding words to express these emotions associated with leaving and saying goodbye. I apologize for my imprecise attempts.)

Friday morning, we had an awards ceremony followed by class parties, and closed by 11am. The whole morning was an out-of-body experience. It felt like one of those suspenseful movies scenes where time is running out and you can't make it last long enough. Actually, that's what it literally was: not enough time. Never enough time.

I walked around to each of my classes and told them how much I loved being their teacher and how much I'll miss them. I hugged almost everyone except for a few shy ones and said goodbye. I did the same thing with my little ones in Grade 2. Anne wouldn't let go. She wouldn't let go, you guys. I died a little inside.

Lastly, I said goodbye to my own Grade 11, which was hardest. They are such amazing kids and they're going to be such amazing adults. Those 4 meant the difference between a terrific and miserable first few weeks of teaching. I will forever be grateful to them for making my job so easy. I pray (and pray and pray) that in one year, I'm able to come back for their own graduation. I can't wait to see where they go next in life--they'll probably change the world!

After all the goodbyes, I left with another teacher to spend the afternoon with some of the women from school. I started crying as we pulled away from the school, knowing it was the last time I would see it alive with students. Then I went to a henna party with the others. It was a busy afternoon and full of conversation and things to keep my mind off the sadness.

In hindsight, I didn't plan the afternoon well. I didn't anticipate my overemotional state. I should have planned to stay at the school as late as necessary, given myself time to cry it out, and then gone to hang out with my friends after collecting myself.

It's not like me to suppress emotions; for one thing, I'm bad at it, and for another, I don't think it's very healthy. I like to feel what I'm feeling - good, bad, or in between. So, I guess if I had to do it over again, I'd do it differently. The activity of the afternoon kept my mind off it, which was beneficial in its own way. Plus I've got some killer henna on my hands and feet...pictures soon.

I'm steeling myself for a total breakdown in the airport next week. I apologize in advance to the people who drop me off, the students on my flight (there will be a couple), and the unlucky passenger sitting next to me in 32 J.