Hopes and Fears of Coming Home

I've been thinking a lot about what I will take away from Nigeria--figuratively and literally--and what I am prepared to leave behind. It's sobering, but I'm sharing it here so that you, my friends, family, and cheerleaders (HI MOM) can anticipate the changes in me when I step off the plane on June 18th.

I'm going to need closure. Lots of it. This place has endeared me to her people, her traditions, her fashion. Yes, there will be things I won't miss, but they will be grossly outweighed by the things I will carry with me forever.

Some of the things I hope to leave behind include my assumptions about Nigerians, my fear of international travel, my ignorance of the teaching profession, and my innate American-centrism.

I plan to bring back an appreciation for the generosity I have been shown here and a desire to pay it back forward, the self esteem that comes from cutting it in a third-world country, a closet full of Nigerian clothes, and at least 2 bags of pounded yam flour.

By the time I return, I hope to have found the words to describe how blessed I feel to have shared in this life for the past 8 months. I hope to demonstrate my ability to tie a hair tie (no, for real). I hope to testify to the warmth of a people who have been unfairly represented by a greedy administration and foolish religious radicals.

I hope I leave behind my need to schedule everything, my impatience with the speed of life (and the desire to move at break-neck speed in the first place), & my taking clean water for granted.

I hope I will always be willing to drop everything for a friend in need and to express sympathy as genuinely and persistently as the Nigerians do.

I hope I come home a stronger woman with direction and purpose, with compassion and generosity, without rose-colored glasses about life outside the U.S., but with hope and optimism for life in general.

Ultimately, I hope I come back to Nigeria someday.

All these hopes come hand in hand with fears, naturally. I fear that I will forget what it feels like to be loved unconditionally by a classroom of 2nd-graders. I fear that my pictures and blog posts have been wholly ineffectual in communicating the beauty of this place and its people. I fear the strange glances when I use the exclamation, "Kai" in public. (Because, I promise you, that is permanently cemented in my vocabulary. No two ways about it.)

Full Disclosure: I fear that my family and friends will not understand the heart and passion and longing I feel towards Nigeria. I fear that I will be tempted to write off this year as a "gap year" between college and the rest of my life. This is my life. It will never not be part of my life. I'm honestly not trying to be melodramatic here, but there's no going back. I can't undo the impact this year has had on me (though I suspect time will lessen it).
I positively THREW myself into this life and this culture and the fact that when I raise my voice in my classroom, it comes out in a perfect native Nigerian accent is not because I'm an actress and faking it but because that is the genuine Miss Maggie Angry Voice. I perfected it here and so that's what it sounds like.
Frankly, I checked my Americanness at the door and have tried to learn this culture by living it. Maybe that's going to make me one mixed-up mess of a returning expatriate, but I wouldn't trade it. I don't want to change it. I'm just afraid that a) people back home won't understand that/have little patience for it and b) I will eventually forget it, too.

I'm pretty sure that the first time someone says to me, "Yeah, but you were only there a year," I'm going to burst into tears (I'm steeling myself for this comment to occur frequently). Because in the grand scheme of my young life, a year is a big deal. Especially one that has changed a lot about me and helped me see who I really am and who I want to be.

So please, I beg you, have patience with me. Cut me a little slack when I cry watching the news, or complain about the availability of papaya, or give into the desire to wear Nigerian clothes for no reason except that a part of me will always feel at home here and I want to preserve that part for as long as I can.

Now Taking Requests and Making Decisions

It never occurred to me that at some point in this Nigerian Adventure, I would run out of things to say. My last few posts have only loosely connected with my experience in this amazing (and amazingly humid) nation, but nonetheless, I am currently at a loss.

This is good, on one hand, because it means that my life has normalized--so completely gelled that few day-to-day things stand out in that "Oh, the folks at home might like to hear about this!" kind of way.

This is bad, on the other hand, because it means MaggieinNigeria just became BoringMaggieInNigeria. To delay this terrible transformation, please let me know--via blog comment or direct email--if there is an aspect of culture or my life here that I have failed to mention. That's right: this blog now open to suggestions.

The only thing new these days is that I am under an inconceivable amount of stress to sort out my plans for next year. It is impossible to contemplate either outcome (at this point, everything boils down to stay/go) and I can feel myself grasping at life, trying to make it slow down.

A million moments in my day make me stop and consider the life I lead now: how much I love it, how much I will miss it, but also how torn apart I feel being so far from home. When these moments come, I give myself permission to actually feel my feelings (what a novel concept) about staying and leaving.
For example, when Ezugo buries his face in my shoulder when he sees me in the Library, I allow myself to feel love for this precious little boy and appreciation that he & his little tae kwon do uniform are a part of my life. I also allow myself to feel the sense of loss that will be mine when I no longer see Ez each morning.

The same goes for memories of home. I was in an upscale grocery store today and spied a box of SmartStart cereal, which is my Dad's breakfast of choice. I had this flash of Mom instructing me which type to buy - the one with the blueberries on the front, even though the actual cereal doesn't have blueberries in it - before heading out to buy groceries at Cub Foods. That memory washed over me and was quickly followed by helplessness. I can't do that anymore. I'm too far away. I let myself feel the sadness of separation.

Though this coping mechanism can be painful, I would rather acknowledge that making this decision feels like pinching either way and that emotions are an intrinsic part of that process. Giving myself permission to count the emotional cost of either outcome is how I'm trying to make the most informed decision. Maybe that's too analytical for you, but the whole "God will tell you what to do" isn't literal enough for me. I'm trying to find equilibrium here.

In the meantime, sleep eludes me (as does my appetite) and my face looks like a zitty teenager's.
Oh, hey there stress. Good to see ya. Again.

two in one day...aren't you lucky?

Living 6,400 miles away means I gave up my primary source of community. I feel like this blog and my Facebook account gives me back a part of that community. If that is sacrilege I immediately confess it. But it feels true.

(That is the shortest blog post you will ever read from me.)

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.

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.