Nigerian Drivers Test

See if you can answer the Nigerian driving test correctly, it will tell you if you could be a true Nigerian driver.....I'm almost there!

*Answers are in italic.

1. What is the most important part of any car (or any moving vehicle)?
1. tires
2. brakes
3. steering wheel
4. air conditioning
5. horn

2. Which of the following is not acceptable in a traffic jam?
1. driving (NOT "passing") in the 'opposite-direction-traffic-lane'
2. making a 2 lane highway into 4 lanes
3. hitting the vehicle on your left with your hand
4. having the passenger on the right hit the vehicle on their right with your hand
5. none of the above...they are all acceptable

3. What is another name for a pedestrian?
   Risk taker
4. What is another name for a traffic light?
   Wishful Thinking
5. How much space do you leave between your car and the cars on your left and right side?
   
   Minimum space to leave: 1 inch (2.5 centimeters)
   Maximum space to leave: If the driver's left hand can not touch the car to his/her left, then there is too much space in between the cars. The same applies for a passenger on the right and the car to the right.
6. Who is at fault in a collision
1. the driver who changes lanes without using the signal or leaving enough room to merge.
2. the driver who gets hit because he/she didn't honk loudly when the driver above started getting into his/her lane. 

7. Which of the following are you LEAST likely to see on the road as you are driving?
1. A child selling items
2. The elderly selling items
3. Motorcycles zipping in and out of traffic
4. People fighting
5. Someone in a vehicle smiling and relaxed

From broken bones to Nigerian weaves

I was reflecting the other day, while walking down town to the open-air market for groceries, about how much fun it is to live in a smaller African city. I was thinking about the things that I now take for granted, that make my days so interesting, and the things I will miss once I’m home. I couldn’t help smiling as I listening to the men chatting and joking good naturedly, the women calling out to me for my custom, the constant honking of horns, the loud music being played from trucks parked in the middle of the road selling either Indomie noodles or Hypo laundry powder, the squawking of live chickens or the quacking of ducks tucked under the arms or vendors. Then there's the smells; the raw meat on huge chopping blocks (and the intestines shaped like honeycomb) and cows tongues, the dried fish (and some still alive, squirming in wheelbarrows of water), even the mud from the rain the night before smells of African earth. Then there’s the colours; the vibrant greens of spinach and okra, the red of tomatoes and hot chili peppers, the bright-multicoloured Nigerian wrappers, and the fluorescent shades of the younger generations clothing. You can't become distracted for one minute or take your eyes off your feet otherwise you'll fall down a gutter, stand in a muddy puddle, step on someones wares or bump into someone carefully balancing trays of fresh peanuts or ribena berries on their heads. Having to greet everyone that greets you is also exhausting, but makes for such a sense of community. Home is going to be so boring in comparison!

I got a phone call at 8pm last Sunday night from one of the Uncles out at Gyero. He went on to tell me one of the boys had been playing and had fractured his hand. I asked a few questions over the phone to ascertain the extent of the injury and learnt that the assumed break was “near his thumb and there is a small bruise”. After giving instructions over the phone for pain relief and immobilisation, I assured the staff I would come first thing the next morning to take Michael for an x-ray.  Once I arrived at Gyero, the real story came out! Michael had fallen, and was then seen with his arm bent in half and the bones sticking out! He had broken BOTH his ulnar and radius mid shaft and the bones had punctured the skin! One of the uncles had straightened the bone immediately and put on a very effective splint made of bamboo sticks, packing and a bandage (I commended his efforts and technique later). Michael, who usually has a very staunch countenance, even for a 14 year old, was sobbing quietly, which broke my heart; I doubt he’d slept much that night either. I took Michael for an x-ray and got to use my radiography skills practically for the first time since I’ve been here. When I explained the importance of good views (at ninety degrees from each other) for diagnostic purposes and planning for a potential surgery, he looked at me with a bewildered lost face and asked me to come and show him what I meant. I didn’t need anymore of an invitation that that! After we were back at clinic, I helped the surgeon in theatre as we sedated him, attempted to realign the bones, and placed him in a temporary cast. Time will tell if the bones heal by themselves or whether he’ll need some internal fixation.

Two days later on a routine visit to Transition House to check on the older boys health, after chatting with the uncle there for over an hour and him assuring me there was no sickness at present, Kelly and I were about to start the car to leave when he remembered one boy who had complained that morning about feeling unwell. We got back out of the car and entered the compound to find David unconscious sprawled on the concrete floor. He was febrile and unresponsive. I thanked God that Kelly was there at the time because of her experience with Malaria in Nigeria she recognised the symptoms and we rushed to the nearest pharmacy and got some IV fluids, some intra muscular Malaria medication and other bits and pieces for symptom control. Kelly herself had suffered the same symptoms including the Black Water Fever element (peeing coke coloured urine!) and so knew the importance of hydration. After an hour and a half and a litre of IV fluids, David had regained consciousness and was able to start taking oral fluids. I returned the next few days to give the rest of the medication, but by day 3, David was a different boy, still very brave while I jabbed him in the butt with needles, but now able to joke about it with me!

Another highlight of my weekend was a meeting I had with some Nigerian girls who will be fellow bridesmaids at the up coming wedding of a mutual friend. We discussed transport, accommodation, decided on a dress style, jewelry and shoes, then the conversation turned to hair…that was where it became irrelevant for me! Because Nigerian women ‘make’ their hair, i.e. they all wear extensions; they needed to decide on the colour, the attachment and the style once the weave was applied.  I’m positive the grass is always greener in this instance, but I actually envy the ladies having the opportunity to recreate their image each 4-6 weeks! From a short bob cut to long flowing curly locks or braids, the sky is the limit for possibilities. Apparently for the first few days it hurts a lot as the weave is so tight and I often wonder how a lot of the ladies sleep with their huge heavy braids, but combined with the amazing eye make up Nigerian’s can get away with on their dark skin, I anticipate walking into the church with some very stunning ladies indeed!

Muddy roads, surgeries and sleeping on the floor!

So life has been fairly quiet around Jos of late, no bombings or riots to mention. There was some gunfire outside my compound last Friday afternoon, which was alarming until I ascertained that it was mearly the military trying to make a path through the congested traffic with their trucks. Obviously people weren’t moving quickly enough for them. They probably just wanted to get home for tea. I swear those guys are a law unto themselves.

But please continue to pray for safety in Jos as we are coming up to the Muslim Eid (the holiday which marks the end of the Muslim fasting month of Ramadan) and the days of Selah (celebration) following. We’ve been told to keep a low profile this weekend incase of any problems, but God willing it will be uneventful.

My work has been going well with the kids; despite the difficulties we’ve been having getting down the Gyero road. The persistent rain has meant that, as predicted, the road has turned to mud and once I’d had several scary trips myself where I prayed out loud for help to get through several deep sections of road and heard reports from others who actually had to get towed out; I started hitching a ride with others because I’ve been too anxious going alone! Even the bulldozer that the road builders brought in to repair the road got stuck in the mud for a week! I just don’t have the experience of driving in and negotiating a truck in the mud in 4WD mode. I’m continuing to pray that none of the children get seriously ill while my visits continue to be sporadic due to the weather. The picture below I took from one of the huge trucks the move dirt up and down the road. We were offered a ride after we had parked the truck before a particularly muddy part we couldn't pass and started walking towards the orphanage.

Getting a ride down the Gyero road

Despite the road, I took one of the girls from Gyero to have her appendix out at one of the clinics here in Jos last weekend. It went really well, there were no complications, the appendix was definetly inflamed and needed to come out (they don’t have imagining here to actually definitively say it is infected) and she had minimal pain as she recovered. I would say the most interesting part of the whole ideal was when I got given the appendix in a little jar of formalin to take to one of the larger hospitals for testing. I was a little incredulous that I had to take it myself and to a hospital that was a fair journey out of the city, but was assured I could do it at my convenience. So Fiona and Angie were able to appreciate the comic value of driving with the appendix (which was situated in the well of the car, by my hand brake) for the next few days.

Elizabeth prepped for surgery

So most of the missionaries are back now after their summer breaks. Kelly got back on Friday and it will be interesting to see how dynamics change in the health ministry. It has been such a great experience being solo for 2 months, it’s forced me to make decisions and become more confident in my own judgments out of necessity, but I am looking forward to being able to gleam more medical expertise off Kelly.

I had a fun night at a Nigerian’s friends apartment complex the other week. I was invited over for a meal and entered her small rented room, where the only piece of furniture she owned was a matress on the floor! We had a great night of jisting (Nigerian slang for chatting and joking) and hanging out on the bed and ate a delicious meal of Eugusi soup and semo tuwo. It definatly had me thinking why we in the West even have beds. Why do we insist on everything being off the floor? Chairs and table….everything is raised. The Asian population are fine with eating and sleeping on the floor. I was even contemplating getting a good mattress and following suit once home until I thought a bit more about it and in discussion concluded that beds must have evolved because of a hygiene and health concern. It makes sense that in colder countries with damp and mildrew,, being off the cold floor would have been better for avoiding colds and such.  So I think I’ll still be sleeping on a bed once I’m back in NZ.

Another interesting thing I’ve noticed about visiting Nigerian homes is that they all want to show you their photos. Small piles of photos, are brought out and a commentary offered as you flick through them. The pictures are all of the photos they’ve compiled over their lives, dating as far back as their parents wedding, birth of siblings, then tracking their childhood to graduation, but also including ex-boyfriends, even photos of friends and friends parents, all posed, most with colourful boarders. It’s a funny feeling knowing that when you print off photos for Nigerian friends they will go into the collection and be shown to other friends for years to come.

Girls in the kitchen..mixing the Semovita for dinner

I went out to a village last week with my flatmate Angie to see a new birthing centre that has been started. When the missionaries went in and surveyed the people to find out what their health needs were, they found that the mortality rate for babies and mothers was 50%! We had a great afternoon visiting with the kids and seeing what has been started out there. It's exciting to think that more mothers and babies will be surviving because of such a basic development within the community.

Some of the gorgeous kids at the village

Road Trip!

 An offer was put out a month back to any people in Jos over the summer who wanted to accompany a family of five on their summer holiday to Obudu. With a desire to see more of the Nigerian countryside I gladly stuck up my hand to be included. So at 6am last Saturday morning a group of nine of us embarked on a massive 10-hour trip across Nigeria, crossing state boarders, being pulled over numerous times by the Military, and having to stop to relieve ourselves in the bushes along the way (being weary of snakes in the long grass!). We only had one occasion where we were forced to pay for some incomplete paperwork, which at the time made me furious, but in retrospect was very good going…..I think the fact we were a car full of sweetly smiling white women helped our situation at a lot of check points!

Our first night was spent in Obudu town ship. We found hotel with a double bed to sleep 3 of us girls, a toilet with no toilet seat and a fan which we were promised would run all night on generator, but which turned off at 1230am leaving us hot and bothered and unable to sleep!

The second day we headed up the famous Obudu mountain. It was muggy and overcast at the bottom, but as we drove the 11km up the winding road we entered into fog and fine misty rain. We were literally in the clouds! We wanted to stay up top but to our disappointment, the luxury accommodation was WAY out of our price range (we got a tour around the presidential suite just for fun, which also has a helipad!) at the Cattle Ranch Hotel, but a nice tour guide showed us a little village 5 minutes from the Ranch on the other side of the mountain top where we found adequate rooms for a lot cheaper. By this time I was FREEZING! I never imagined Africa could be so cold, and I certainly hadn’t packed for this climate (not that I had many clothes back in Jos that would have suited the weather anyway!), but considering we were 1600m above sea level, I guess it made sense.  We moved our bags into the hostel (which again has a double bed for us 3 girls, a slightly bigger bathroom WITH a toilet with a seat (horray!), but again it was cold bucket showers and intermittent electricity and generator from 6pm-5am. Fiona and I thought we’d make the most of the colder weather and run down the Obudu Mountain. The Obudu Mountain Race (OMR) is a very famous uphill race which people from all over the African continent come to run once a year in November.  I couldn’t even comprehend running all the way up, but would have taken part in a relay race and offered to do that down hill leg! Well that is until the next day, when I could barely walk my muscles were so sore from the 10km downhill. It wasn’t the length of our run that was the culprit; cardiovascularly I was fine - it was the repetitive jarring motion on my joints that was the killer. The next morning I almost fell over trying to get out of bed, my calves and glutes were in agony. Both Fiona and I walked like we’d been seriously injured for 2 days!  We look the gondola back up the mountain, which was lovely; we had beautiful views for about three quarters of the trip until we were enveloped in cloud once more.

Half way down the mountain...a glimpse through the clouds.

We had sensibly packed a lot of our own food with us, so purchased a few fresh veges and made do with spaghetti and sauce, Indian red curry and a bean and rice meal which was a huge saving financially….and probably safer on our sensitive Western stomachs than eating the local cuisine (no offense intended of course).

The next morning, we had hoped to be able to go for a hike, or at least have the fog and rain clear so we could see where we were staying! But alas it persisted, so our back-up plan was to go down the mountain (which literally has a completely different climate) and spend the day at the Obudu Water-park. I won’t even try to compare the park to the kind we’re accustomed to back home because it loses it’s appeal, and you won’t be able to appreciate how novel it was to visit, but the two metal waterslides and diving boards kept us entertained for most of the day.

We had hoped to visit the Drill Monkey Ranch (a reserve you can stay at and see the massive Drill Monkeys - a cross between a gorilla and a baboon in my opinion!) but one of the bridges on the road to get there had been washed out due to all the rain the previous few weeks and even if they had fixed it in time it was only accessible by 4WD and only one of our vehicles had that capability, so sadly we had to think of a plan B.  We decided to stay one more day, get out of the rain and do some exploring of the neiboring towns in Obudu region. Our tour guide had suggested a visit to a waterfall a few hours away so with time on our hands we drove the 2 hours through the rural African countryside to a small village called Ikom. Asking various locals for directions periodically, we finally found the waterfall and it was gorgeous. We all jumped out of the cars and began snapping pictures. Suddenly we were surrounded by a large group of Nigerian youths (about 9 males) who were telling us to stop taking photos and step away from the edge. After some tense dialogue, we concluded that they wanted money, that they were ‘responsible’ for the waterfall and hence we had to pay to take pictures and walk down the bottom for a closer look. They demanded an obscene amount per head for the tour, which after phoning our original tour guide for advice we bartered down to a semi-reasonable price, then preceded down a small path to the base of the falls. The whole experience was sadly negatively tainted by the uncomfortable and confrontational nature of the youths and that fact we discovered they’d been taking footage and photos of us with their camera phones. But the falls were still worth the visit, even little Isabelle (9 years old) was enjoying herself before she saw a snake and had a panic attack!

Our last night was spent at another hotel in Obudu, this one claimed to have air conditioning in every room (which we later found only worked when they had strong supply of electricity-very rarely!) and generator all night (again it cut out leaving us sweltering midway through the night), but I don’t think there are any laws in Nigeria that prevent false advertising, or if there are, they’re not enforced! The one upside was a huge TV in the main lounge area, which had music videos blaring (in true Nigerian style), so we could have a dance party as we cooked dinner over the gas cooker. I’m still perfecting my butt shuffle, but the nice hotel manager gave me a few pointers J

We rose early to get a good start on the road the next day and only met 3 sets of ‘nail boys’ on the way (men who stop cars with big planks of wood with nails hammered into them) who attempt to find some problem with your car paperwork or claim you haven’t paid certain state taxes . But again we thankfully managed to escape without too much drama. I think it helped that we had a huge ‘Missionary’ sign painted on the truck we borrowed for the trip!

Little taste of home

Last weekend I had my first weekend out of Jos for some much needed rest and relaxation. After an intense few weeks of ministry, it was perfect timing and the week prior I was literally counting down the days. The journey to Abuja is not a particularly nice one, not just because of the huge stretches of pot-holed road that needs to be navigated and the multiple military check points, but the driving itself requires undivided attention, especially when overtaking enormous 18-wheeler trucks at regular intervals. Once in Abuja, trying to find our way around the unfamiliar city would have made the trip stressful rather than stress relieving, so in light of all these factors, we decided it would be wise to hire a driver for the weekend. Amos, a reliable and lovable SIM driver was only happy to oblige us, as the extra income for his family was always appreciated.

We arrived in Abuja Friday afternoon with minimal dramas along the way, although I did receive one marriage proposal and also an offer of a military escort to Abuja by two separate Police and Army officers. I politely declined both generous offers.  First stop once we arrived was to find espresso coffee (and yes this was my bright idea…much to Fiona’s disgust as she was eager to get into the pool!). We found a supermarket down the road that had a café of sorts at the back and I ordered my first latte in Africa. I’m positive that it would have tasted average when compared to the coffee back home, but in that moment, with only Nescafe with powdered milk as my immediate comparison, it was heaven! We perused the supermarket in search of treats we couldn’t find in Jos and excitedly discovered some cheapish breakfast cereal, tinned tuna and yoghurt (trust me, these staple items made us bizarrely happy!). SIM missionaries are very blessed to have an arrangement with one of the nicer hotels (by Nigerian standards) in Abuja where we get free accommodation during the weekend. Rooms cost about $300 USD a night, so obviously this would be out of the question as an option if the owner didn’t gift it to us. We found our room and realized there was one bed for all 3 of us. Just as well it was a Nigerian king sized bed and all 3 of us girls could quite easily fit on it without touching. Nigerian beds are also incredibly hard so there was no need to worry about ‘roll-together’ either.

Three in the bed and the little one said......

We spent the afternoon by the pool reading and swimming and then went out to dinner at a restaurant, which was recommended to us by a missionary in Jos. I had a Greek Salad, which actually had REAL feta cheese! Another very exciting experience, especially after ordering the same in Jos and getting grated cheddar soaked in mayonnaise! Mmmmm. Even watching cable TV that night back at the hotel room was a novelty, especially when you haven’t watched television for 5 months! The Nigerian soap operas are hilarious!

The next morning we attempted to start our morning early as to make the most of our time only to find that nothing was open until 12pm due to ‘sanitation’!!?? When I asked what they meant by ‘sanitation’ it was explained to me that once a month all retail shops take a morning to do a thorough clean. Who knew! Anyway on our second attempt to start the day we went to a big park in the middle of the city (meticulously manicured and quite beautiful) for a picnic. I found some fresh smoked salmon at one of the many supermarkets we visited and took it to the park and I ate it straight from the packet! Next stop was SilverBird mall (a large Westernised mall) for some window-shopping, another coffee and a movie. Walking out of the movie theatre I almost forgot where I was…..until I saw all the Nigerian youth milling around and looked out the window at the African landscape!  It was a really lovely little getaway and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed such simple everyday pleasures, which I completely take for granted back home. I thought perhaps the little taster of home comforts would make me home-sick and maybe more frustrated with life here and more aware of what I don’t have, but it’s only made me appreciative of the time I have left in Africa.

I got my first flat tyre the other day. It was lucky that I wasn’t in a hurry going anywhere at the time and that it happened when I was parked at the SIM/ECWA headquarters. Even with my confidence that I could change the puncture myself, five Nigerian men came to my rescue and insisted on taking over. Who was I to argue? I thanked them profusely 10 minutes later when my spare was safely in place and I was on my way. Flats happen so frequently here that Nigerians are real pros at changing them and take no time at all. The day after I went to get my puncture mended and stopped at the corner I’d been directed to where a young guy sat with two little boys who I presumed were his apprentices, and watched in amazement as they went about their work as I waited. It took all of 15 minutes before it was fixed and back on my car and cost a total of 300 Naira ($2 NZD) for their service. I felt a bit bad paying that much, but they will definitely have my custom in the future!

A few months ago I was put in touch with a Nigerian dentist called Ambrose who works for an American NGO called ProHealth. He expressed an interest to do some volunteer dentistry for our kids in the ministry. This Saturday we organized a session out at Gyero to assess the kids and do some extractions, filings and cleaning. I have come to the conclusion that dentistry is not for the faint hearted I’ll tell you that much! I thought I’d seen my fair share of gore, blood and guts as an Emergency nurse, but holding a child down while a dentist extracts a tooth was a new experience for me and one even I wouldn’t volunteer for again in a hurry! We saw a number of children and will schedule another clinic day to get through the rest. It really is such a blessing having Ambrose on board because dental is very expensive here, and unfortunately the ministry cannot afford regular check ups which means that I end up taking kids to see the dentist at the hospital when they get infected teeth well beyond saving or oral abscesses. Hardly ideal. 

This won't hurt a bit......!

Anyway, as I write this we are under curfew on the compound due to attacks in outer Jos by Fulani herders on indigene villagers. A Challenge pancake breakfast this morning was a nice start to the day but the disruption to normal routine is frustrating to say the least. Please pray that these tensions resolve and we can have a return to the relative peace Jos has seen for the last few weeks.

The loss of a child....

So after months of being told that the Nigerian licensing department was not issuing new expatriate licenses and carrying a photocopy of my New Zealand license around with me in case I was stopped at a checkpoint, I finally heard they had recommenced the issuing process. Off to the office I went to try and make myself legal. I shouldn’t really have been surprised with the outcome, but after talking to four different people, all telling me different stories about the steps I would have to take to acquire said license (one of who insisted on me paying for a learners permit and sitting a test…um I don't think so!) I wandered back to the compound disheartened and about to give up on the whole thing. Then, in passing conversation a missionary friend mentioned he had a Nigerian friend in Lagos who could get us past the red tape and get us licenses from there. I didn’t ask questions…supplied the passport photos, details and 6000 Naira and crossed my fingers! 3 days later I had in my hand a very forged looking laminated license (which I was assured was just an older version and perfectly legal) first issued in Feb 2011! They spelt my name correctly so that was a bonus. They can’t say I haven’t tried to play by the rules. 

Last week was one of the most hard I’ve had in Nigeria to date. At 830am Wednesday morning I received a call from one of the Aunties out at Gyero orphanage to come quickly as they had an emergency with a child. I drove out there immediately to find Grace, a tiny 7-year-old girl, unresponsive, having intermittent seizure like activity (and associated symptoms) and general body rigidity. We bundled her into my car and drove to the hospital where I had arranged one of my colleagues, a missionary doctor here in Nigeria, to meet us in the ED. I have never driven so fast in my life, like a true Nigerian you could say. I took risks on the road that day I don’t plan to again, but when you have a dying child in your car, the sheer frustration of being stuck at a stand still while other traffic is waved through is just unbearable! Unfortunately the ambulances here are used to carry corpses and therefore do not have the privileges given to ambulances back home that can put their sirens on, clear traffic and go through red lights to get to their destination. That being said, had I arrived any sooner, the care we received once in ED would not have been given any faster, as speed and urgency is not a concept that Nigerians really put value on in their culture.

Anyway, Dr Sheppard gave Grace an injection of diazepam to stop her seizing, then after all the paperwork was completed (after I had run around like a headless chicken to 4 or 5 different places getting admission cards stamped and billing sorted) we (Dr, Sheppard, two aunties from Gyero and myself) finally got Grace admitted to the Paediatric ward where we were met by the Nigerian Paediatric registrar. She thought it could have been either Cerebral Malaria or Meningitis, so did a lumbar puncture in the treatment room, placed an IV line and commenced medications for both. The whole process took a few hours and it was about 230pm when we moved her into the Paediatric ICU (not what you imagine believe me, there was no monitoring of vitals, no oxygen available and no resuscitation equipment nearby). I left the hospital to take the aunties back to Gyero, pick up some clothes for Grace and to get another auntie who would stay the night with Grace. On our return Grace  didn’t look good, her breathing was more laboured and her respiration's had significantly reduced. But the two Paediatric doctors were sitting right next to her bed at their desks, so I assumed they would act if she continued to deteriorate.  Two hours later a got a text from the Auntie at the hospital to say Grace had ‘given up’. I was shocked. Apparently they had attempted CRP, but the only oxygen they were giving her was through a bag mask (it’s expensive for bottled O2). I raced back to the hospital to be with the auntie (who had been Grace’s mother for the 2 years she’d been with the ministry) and find out what happened. By this time we had the labs back (which takes several hours as top priority) and Dr Sheppard soberly explained her acidotic state on admission; patients with lab results like that do not survive in Nigeria. It made me feel so helpless, angry, devastated and confused all at the same time. We still had no idea what had killed Grace because the hospital was ‘out of stock’ of the test that would diagnose meningitis from her CSF, but we ruled out malaria.

There was another 7 year old out at Gyero who slept in the same room as Grace and had the same symptoms of tummy pain and fever, and I was not about to take chances so I called for the Aunties to bring Josephine in for testing. It was 9pm at night by then, but I didn’t want another dead child on my hands come morning. The doctors sent Josephine home to continue on the anti-malarials and antibiotics I had already commenced her on and her lab results revealed in the morning that she did indeed just have malaria, so it was a relief we didn’t have an epidemic out at Gyero.

I struggled a lot with this situation, asking myself if there was anything I could have done differently. Could I have recognised Grace’s illness quicker perhaps? Grace was at school the day prior to waking up unresponsive and it all happened so fast that it is really hard to process. Her only symptoms were a headache Monday, mild tummy pain on Tuesday, and then she died on Wednesday! Hardly textbook Meningitis or Malaria! Because there is so much dehydration, I tell the kids to drink water, give them some paracetamol and only treat for malaria if they start to get febrile. And as far as complaints of stomach pains, 90% of the kids out there at present tell me they have tummy pain, but it’s mango season right now and they’re eating so many mangoes each day and don’t have a lot of fresh food in their diets normally so their little bodies aren’t used to it!

Anyway, because they don’t embalm their bodies here in Nigeria bodies need to be buried a day or two after death, so preparations for a casket were made and the Father’s village was informed to dig a hole for burial the next day. I was at the hospital at 8am sorting out the bill and arranging the paperwork and death certificate for the release of the body. It was a long morning as we waiting for transport and for the casket to be made (yes they made it the day of!) but the aunties washed and dresses wee Grace and she looked just gorgeous as we prayed and put her inside. At midday, we left in convoy out to Grace's Father's village in Kagoro (often out 'orphans' are not actually bereaved of both parents but are removed from their homes due to the abuse of their parents inability to care for them) which is about an hour and a half out of Jos City. We were stopped at one check point by an officer who wanted us to open the casket for him to look inside. I was horrified. But the Nigerians assured me it was a perfect place to hide bombs and rifles and it had been tried before. I knew they were right. We arrived and were greeted by the mourning villages (Grace had lived in this village for the first 5 years of her life) and had a small funeral ceremony where the pastors of the village and City Ministries spoke. Some of the girls from Grace's compound at Gyero sang a song, which was really tear jerking, then we walked to the burial plot to lay Grace to rest. It was a beautiful day and many amazing words were spoken and comfort given. 

I still struggle with how easily Nigerian accept death, even that of a child, and am so amazed at their seemingly automatic response of assuming "God is in control", "it was God’s time for Grace" and that "it was all part of His plan". I wish I had that kind of faith all the time, but there are still so many unanswered questions for me. I guess it’s all a part of growing and leaning to trust more. I had lunch with a good Nigerian friend and was able to talk about the whole situation with her and debrief a bit. She said something that helped me a lot. She said “don’t expect to be able to process and deal with the situation the same as the Nigerians, you’ve come from different backgrounds and have grown up with different life experiences and perspectives of death and the world”. She said, “Some Nigerians grow up never having anything bring them joy or happiness in life and so expect sadness, disappointments and death, hence their level of acceptance. Although it may look like they’re hard hearted, they have just adapted as a way a coping because of the frequency of which it happens”.  That made sense to me and took some self-imposed pressure off.

The SIM team

On a more happy note, I attended my second wedding today (seems I can’t escape weddings no matter what continent I live on!). I managed to catch the bouquet at the end of the reception and then had multiple Nigerian mama’s congratulate me, came to shake my hand, then offer to introduce me to their sons! 

The 10 Commandments and Nigerian burials

We have had a new girl who has arrived at challenge compound. She is from the US and a Paediatric nurse by profession, but is here working with Self Sustaining Enterprises doing development work and health education in the villages. She’s a lovely girl and I think we will be good friends. It’s so nice to feel like I know more about living Nigeria than someone else. To be able to sit down with her, have a cup of tea and remember back to what it was like for me 4 months ago is a really bizarre feeling. Trying to recall what advice helped, what observations gave me needed insight and what I would have liked to know that I found out the hard way! In some ways it feels as though time is flying by here in Africa, and in other moments it feels like I’ve been here a lifetime. I’m just trying to enjoy each day and make the most of the moments as they come.

The other weekend a small group of us went out to see this giant 10 Commandments monument which is being constructed on the outskirts of Jos. One might say it is Jos’s first tourist attraction! We met the man responsible for the replica (with perhaps, some would argue, more money than he knows what to do with?) and heard his vision behind the idea. He is a Seventh Day Adventist, hence his focus on Old Testament themes and was very passionate about making a whole attraction for people to come and experience God. As well as the massive 10 Commandment statue, he is building a baptism pool, a prayer house on a big rock formation (Mount Sinai), teared seating for outdoor services or preaching and a ministry center. It was a sight to see that’s for sure. Still not convinced it was the wisest use of his money, considering the poverty and sickness I see everyday, but who am I to judge.

I went to my first burial yesterday. A good Nigerian friend by the name of Esther, who is a parent to a group of kids out at Gyero orphanage and whom I am currently training up to do basic medical assessment and diagnosis for while I'm not there during week, was bereaved of her older brother late last week. He died of Tuberculosis late last week and yesterday was the funeral and burial.

Fiona and I had arranged to meet all the Gyero staff outside Our Lady of Apostles (OLA) hospital at 7am to escort the body from the mortuary to the church (as is custom) for the funeral service at 9am. After a bit of confusion about which hospital the body was at and multiple trips back and forth down the busy road in peak hour traffic (one lady told me OLA and another 'maternity' hospital, which in the end turned out to be different names for the same place!) we found the entrance to the mortuary and waited for people to turn up. By 830am when the Gyero staff still hadn't arrived and the procession was almost ready to start to the church, I rang one of the Uncles only to discover his car (packed with 7 Nigerian adults) had broken down! Only in Nigeria would there be so many dramas in such a short amount of time! So I went to pick the group up from where their car had broken down and took them to the church. From there, we (me and 6 Nigerians) bundled into my SUV, attached a flyer with the face of the deceased on it to the windscreen and followed the rest of the convoy of cars in the funeral procession one and a half hours out of Jos to the family village. One hour of our journey was on super bumpy pot-holed dirt road (real 4WD material!) however I was following a Toyota station wagon with 7 Nigerian men in it which was ridiculously low to the ground, so that gave me confidence in crossing through the muddy puddles I couldn’t see the bottom in! We hiked for 10 mins from the cars into the bush and buried the casket after a few word were spoken in Hausa, then had minerals (glass bottles of coke, Fanta and Sprite) at the nearby village before heading back to Jos. It was quite an ordeal, especially being the only white person attending, but a real adventure and I was overwhelmed by the gratitude of the appreciative Gyero staff, thanking me for my time and resources. I feel so blessed God enabled me to get a car, so I could bless others with it.

Speaking of my car, I am loving the challenge of driving in Africa. It’s been 3 weeks now and I’m feeling more and more confident on the roads, with how to dodge slowing taxi’s, to be on the look out for cars doing u-turns, and to never take for granted anyone’s movements in any car around you. Hardly anyone uses their indicators here (or ‘trafficators’ as they call them), so you have to assume someone could change lanes at any time without notice. It was so funny last week, I was in a car with a Nigerian friend when someone in a car in front suddenly slowed to pull over and she yelled “Trafficate now” out the window with an exasperated tone….still makes me smile remembering it, guess you had to be there. I’m still not totally familiar with all the roads in Jos obviously, but I have now driven to all the places I need to get to each week for clinics and ministry eg. the Jos prison, the Widows ministry house, Gidan Bege, Gyero, Transition House, JETS, Hillcrest, Evangel Hospital etc.  so am feeling rather accomplished J

Until next time…..