I sat with a dear wise woman on the porch of the Women's home in which I worked in Waco, TX. It was after this conversation, I decided to pursue Grad school. Purpose- get better equipped to help bring change in Nigeria. That was over 5 years ago. In July 2014, with a Masters' degree in the books and a wealth of people behind me, I knew it was time to journey back to Nigeria, at least for some time. I moved from beautiful Seattle at the end of January believing I was moving back to Houston, to later join hands with a superb organization based in Lagos, Nigeria called LEAP Africa. Little did I know other things were awaiting me like quality time with my oh so good looking teenage brother and my remarkable mother. I stayed in Houston for over 3 months and in retrospect, God deposited things in me, for which I am eternally grateful. I also made friends with some moms in the neighborhood whom I still hold dear to my heart. During this time at home, I registered for my one year youth service in Nigeria, with uncertainty that I would make it there in time for the first batch. The light-rail got rolling- Bought a one-way ticket to Nigeria on a Saturday, flew out on Monday..thank you Emirates! Next time, do upgrade me, will ya?!
AIRPORT GLORY
If you've traveled with my mother or any other Nigerian family, you know that whoever takes you to the airport knows to bring an extra bag because GUARANTEED, your bags are over the weight limit, the attendant is so annoyed and tells you to move your bags off to the corner and bring them when you're really ready. You end up frantically taking out somethings and the kind person who drove you to the airport runs back and forth like a mad person when using the airport scale because oh by the way- you are running late and your flight takes off in 1/2 hour. They also end up transporting some of your goods back home, maybe a whole carry-on size full. I'm telling you- I watch this display of synchronized exercise when Nigerians are flying. Wactch it sometime. Maybe this is not restricted to just Nigerians. Do my Kenyan, South African and Rwandese friends work out the same way at the airport?!! I do wonder. This was my story. I was my mother and she and my Daniel (growing lil bro) were the kind people who transported some of my things back home.
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| 1ST FAM I saw upon arrival. Tallest uncle and littlest cousin |
Flew into the wild city of Lagos. The airport scene on the ground welcomes you with a less than gracious heat wave, hawkers who over-charge you for everything (i paid 10x more for fake sim card), and a potent reality of, 'this is Nigeria. Take it or leave it'. It has its own beauty..somehow. My paperwork for the youth service wasn't yet cleared, though camp had already commenced. I ended up in 2 states and 3 cities within the first 36 hours upon arrival. Already a wild ride, and got to see the beautiful Nigerian capital, Abuja.
CAMP
3 weeks long..month of May. I was late to camp by a few days, AND oh boy am I thankful. Early birds and timely people enjoyed the following:
Long cues, past the camp gate, bleeding into the streets
Soldiers shouting at you for no good reason at the entrance (unfortunately the shouting part long continued. In fact, for the duration of camp)
Carrying your 'box' (luggage) on your head and running, chanting several songs
Enjoying frog jumps while trying to carry your bucket
A DAY AT CAMP
Waking up to the tune of, 'if you're still sleeping...you're wrong', and wear white everything. You're summoned to the parade ground by 5am, where you stand with your platoon and over 2000 other 'Corpers', also known as Otondos. A few lead the entire camp in worship songs and prayer (christian and muslim prayers). We run or play sports, then off to prepare for the day. Typical camp food breakfast: bread and tea or garri (grainy starch) and beans. I refused! Say no to constipation or diarrhea.. I mean beans?! I'll eat my mama's beans but no camp beans for me. Report to lectures by 9am where you fight for chairs or stand uncomfortably for a few hours. Go to lunch then report back to parade ground- ALL the while music playing on loud speakers and/or someone shouting at you, chasing you around with sticks. Till this day, I still don't understand why the shouting or the sticks. Evening activities- competitions, dances, relaxation. Nigerian youth can dance... a little too inappropriate sometimes, but they can shake em booties--thats for sure! A dear friend in Seattle once approached me during praise at church saying, I was shaking my booty a little too much. She was half joking/half serious. Angie, you aint seen nothing yet. Young and old get DOWN in church when praising their Jesus, I mean, they shake everything! It's a site. I'll try to capture it soon.
The natural hair girl/girl with unusual hair/volleyball girl/americanah were some of my favorite nicknames.
I laughed so much at camp because Nigerians are funny in the way they tell stories. So witty, so quick with commentary. You address a person by using some sort of title ('oga'-boss man, ma, sista, aunty, mummy). This is probably one of my favorite things about my culture- referring to people without using their name. You could even know someone for a long time without knowing their name. I was called all kinds of affectionate terms, and I cherished those fleeting moments.
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| my new hair--for now--. some say i resemble my auntie (beautiful one on the right) |
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| a visit to boarding school. I am so gifted with amazing extended family. Cousins are hilarious; my mother's presence here (charming one on the left) is unbelievably helpful to me. She leaves this weekend. Sad Frances. More on her at a later time. |
Excerpt from an entry I wrote at the Houston airport upon my departure from Seattle:
They call us brave, we, the ones who're foreign educated, making the bold move back home. Me- just a woman responding to God's initiation-taking the next step. Today (Jan 28th), I left a really beautiful city, at times with breathtaking sights, and beautiful people who have marked me forever. I landed in Houston and walking through the airport I sense God asking me, 'you ready for a new adventure?' With a realization that I'm a single woman venturing into the unknown, yet familiar territory, and the one to whom I answer this question guarantees He's with me, my answer lied buried underneath a smirk on my face.
Something I hold unto::
2 Thessalonians 1:11- that Jesus would find me worthy of His calling and that His power would fulfill every good purpose of mine and every act prompted by faith.
When I cross your mind, say that prayer over me.
Reach out to me at francesonwuachi@gmail.com
