Junction of the unknown

FESTAC, LAGOS

I visited Lagos yesterday...the mainland. Life on the fast track is a stark contrast from the town I have spent the past year. Walking around with my tallest uncle, we reminisced about my childhood and nostalgia came full force as we passed my childhood road in Festac, off 72^nd road. The flats, shops & mosque at the junction suddenly looked so small compared to the gigantic structures I once remember as a little girl. Lagos! The place to be. Festac is part of this great big city that displays a glimpse of the beauty of urban planning. The sideways are wide and passerby of all shapes, sized, social economic status buzz by. Strapping young men just leaving midweek services from various churches around the corner. Middle aged men sitting under trees enjoying the evening breeze and drinking beer. Women closing shops and heading home to prepare for another round of work- house chores & tending to the family (A woman’s job is never finished). Observers politely staring as each set wander by. The ambiance of this neighborhood elicits a feeling of ‘I’m doing something with my life’. Purposes of all dimension perfumes the evening, and this observation having just rounded up my one year National Youth service. Life is sweet at this junction of the unknown.

Day I moved to Nigeria

One year later

KUMASI, GHANA

This evening I take off for Kumasi, Ghana, an uncharted territory for me. There I will spend one week with the Blessing O Foundation Int’l team, along with an expert child trauma psychologist assessing the situation on ground on girl child issues. There are about a 100 girls in Kumasi, Ghana, mostly Muslims ranging from 10-20years old. Some were married off and later abandoned while others were promised marriage and when impregnated, were discarded or ran away. They have been sexually molested and now live on the streets, some with children, and continue to be victims of sexual abuse. Ghanaians have invited us in and we have commenced dialogue with the government on adequate measure to mitigate the situation. We aim to coalesce with community stakeholders, including other NGOs, individuals and government officials making a concerted effort in assessing a way forward.
 

Stay tuned for the next post on Kumasi. 

 

The Elephant Africa

Today I will allow my newly found companion, along with his wit, Chinweizu, share some of his insights with us through his book, The West and the Rest of Us, then I’ll enter into dialogue with him, and encourage you to as well.

Chinweizu posits that western agenda, propagated into our African system through the big rigs like USAID, World Bank and concepts like foreign aid & Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) are disguised clothes for imperialism, also termed as neocolonialism. Furthermore he says, “For black Africa to constitute on such powerful and autonomous unit, what Africa needs to do is to create a highly productive and autonomous economy, one responsive to the needs of and under the thorough control of, the people of Africa”.

As I read part of his book, Condoleezza Rice flashed through my mind. I remember her emphatically saying that U.S. agenda must be pushed in the world, or else there’ll be void of leadership and Vladamir Putin or subsequent Russian leadership would inevitably fill the void and no country can afford that. Her definition of U.S. leadership entails not exclusively policing the world, but taking the lead on building collaborative efforts towards dire situations across the globe. The greatest power diplomacy has is sitting across from someone, looking them dead in the eye as you seek compliance and ultimately place them in subjugation to your agenda. With your all-powerful military force sitting behind you with unspoken promise of violence, they answer the question, ‘or else’. Diplomacy at its finest, I suppose. This is the same woman who later confessed that there is no sure thing as the international community; rather the world is comprised of individual countries with intention to propagate their agenda. I must interject here by saying that the U.S. by no means hides its intentions. These realities and confined truths are explicitly drafted in the National Security Act. Is this a negative thing? Truthfully I am unsure. Chinweizu would say, U.S. stay the hell away from African affairs and especially its political and economical endeavors. I say, anyone is ‘free’ to push an agenda, and those upon whom it’s pushed are also ‘free’ to say, NO flippin’ way OR ok but we have comparative advantage so you do things on our terms. Chinweizu, I’m not so sure the problem is neocolonialism rather Africa’s inability to say no to stipulations put against them, stipulations which are costly on our finances, human capital and most especially senses. I think if we cower down before the big guys and say yes sah yes sah, do we expect a different result? I mean, seriously! One man’s definition of insanity is doing the same thing time and again and expecting a different result.

When I spent a summer in the beautiful hillside of Kigali Rwanda, my fierce female students said President Kagame should occupy his residential seat beyond his constitutionally appropriated terms, because Rwanda still needed him. But this goes against all things democratic, doesn’t it? I refuted their point of view by saying it was imperative he stepped down, because as a father of the freshly renewed nation, the onus was on him to properly groom his children (people of Rwanda) to take his place, because one can put to flight a thousand, but two ten thousand. In other words there’s only so much Kagame can do for Rwanda, and the next generation should stand on his shoulders to further their investments. Recently he has declared that if the people want him to stay, the West should stay out of their business and let Africans deal with Africa’s business. Maybe he’s right, maybe it’s an excuse. Either way, he seems to be doing something good for his people to love him so.

So, what am I saying through all this?

Story time- when a baby elephant was born, it was tied to a tree, and whenever the elephant wanted to freely roam, it encountered the restriction of the length of the rope, so it wandered nowhere unable to overpower the strength of the tree. This elephant grew into a mature one and beyond comprehension stayed within the boundaries the length of the rope offered. Little did it know that it had acquired massive strength over time, and without exerting much effort, could pull down that tree in no time and freely wander and actually be an elephant.

Bottom line is there will always be implications for power dynamics in this world. Beyond money, the rich also possess power to oppress the oppressable. At some point the oppressable may one day wake up and realize that it has always been an elephant. Africa, WAKE UP OOOOO.

kill or suffer

I woke up twice last night to sweating and mosquito bites, and this isn’t the first time. When it happens my routine is to get on whatsapp and chat with my family back in the States because they’re usually awake during my night hours. Once I chimed in on the conversation and they were surprised asking, ‘what are you doing up’? They’re met with my response, ‘Mosquitoes and I’m sweating’. It has become the family joke and now one of my younger brothers is even more convinced that Nigeria isn’t for him. He left the country at age 9, and came to visit when in his 20s. He’s spoiled by the usual American AC life. When I suggest he consider moving back, his repetitive response is a reminder that the last time he visited he suffered constant perspiration, ‘Na man! Even when you take showers mid day, you still come out sweating’. Well Frank, maybe you should lose some of your muscles because that would help. Perhaps that’s why men I see here are usually slender. It’s called Adaptation. The heavier you are (muscles or fat), the more uncomfortable you will be without AC. Don’t get me wrong, Houston and Waco Texas can be smokin’ hot in the summers. What mitigates the discomfort is the access to Air Conditioning. Lord, I need one of those right now. Wait, I have one in my room, but no light, and it’s surely cost inefficient to run the generator all night long, although as I type this at 5am, I hear my neighbors doing just that. With fuel scarcity, long queues to buy at already jacked up prices, impatient Nigerians who wanna jump the cue because they know someone who knows someone who works at the fueling station, who wants to bear the brunt of that movement? 

Enjoyment here during the hot days and nights is to have light in the middle of the night, turn on your AC AND fan and sleep blissfully. It has been weeks I tasted of this privilege, and my hope for my country is that one day all people will move from perceiving this as enjoyment to become everyday necessity. They say Africa is the darkness continent, producing significantly less power supply than our counterparts. And God said, ‘LET THERE BE LIGHT’. We don’t need to wait for God to cure our ills in this land. He already established things, as they should be. It’s left for man to take substance and make tangible realities. So, where do we start because it’s now 5:18am and the chickens are already crowing and this woman isn’t ready to face the challenges of the day because she’s been up for over an hour and a half doing research and trying to find mosquitoes to kill. She has resorted to just cursing death upon them. Yes, it has come to that. No wonder men and women all over this town sometimes look angry and any little irritant leads them to shout and even engage in fist fights. It’s because they’ve been suffering heat at night and heat in the day, and most without access to Air conditioned offices, especially manual labourers and keke and taxi drivers. Those are the most hostile one I come across. No wonder! I leave you with this- I once heard a Nigerian comedian say, ‘how can you expect a man to be cool-headed when he’s out in the sun all day. Give him AC and it’ll cool off his head and that man will become a different person”. This comedian is on to something.

first yoruba wedding

Last weekend I attended my first Yoruba wedding (to my recollection) in Nigeria’s ancient Yoruba city named Ibadan, a land where the whites were very much present back in the day. I was there about 48 hours and hardly saw anything substantial enough to give an accurate observation, so the ensuing words are mostly a ‘first glimpse’ experience. I hope to visit this city again to see the sites and really talk to the people. The city was truly ancient, and now I wish I had pictures of some of its structures so you’d witness the eye opening stagnation in development in some areas. I imagine the white man coming back in 2016, and with jaws ajar, exclaiming, “Wow! These people haven’t touched a single thing since we left”. Perhaps an exaggeration, but I bet some parts really haven’t been touched.

 

 

wedding party

I live in the East surrounded by mostly Igbos as I, myself, am one. Nigeria’s civil war was engendered by the desire of the Eastern states, the Igbos, wanting succession from their fellow Nigerians. The Yorubas dominate the west, the same corner of Nigeria where the 'New York of Nigeria', Lagos, sits, jam packed with people, where many Igbos also have established businesses and enterprises. Historically the Yorubas attained more education, and maybe still do till date. The Brits had open door policy and many of them traveled abroad to obtain degrees, so it’s distinctive that a Nigerian who lives in the UK is most likely a Yoruba. My experience in Ibadan last weekend was colored by my curiosity to witness how the Yorubas do their weddings, contrasting it to that of Igbos. It’s often an elaborate ordeal as I learned that Yorubas take great pride in throwing parties and celebrating occasions. They tend to focus on parties, celebrations and enjoyment of what they’ve worked for while the pith of a typical Igbo man is to grow his business in order to take care of his woman and family. A favorite aspect of my trip was traveling with my guys. This was my third state to visit with one and second with another. Such a fun crew to adventure with, and they know how to take care of a lady;) Giovanni, as he’s affectionately called, was the only Igbo man among the groomsmen and he was styling and profiling in his ‘Agbada’, the traditional Yoruba male attire. I'm sure many more wedding attending will transpire, all across Naija, and I plan to continue on with the tradition of visiting several states and cities in this motherland of ours.

Bride & Groom dancing down the aisle at the reception

my two guys

   

leading in new territory

Training Legal Aid group on sexual abuse campaign

As part of the Nigerian National Youth Service program, you’re obligated to a weekly meeting where you and your cohort discuss and implement initiatives that impact the community. I was posted to one called ‘Legal Aid’, somehow clumped in with lawyers. I am not the only non-lawyer, in fact there are quite a few of us, and since a group can reach up to a hundred people, it necessitates a leadership team called the 'Excos'. As a residing exco member, almost every week for the past several months, I’ve stood before the CDS (Community Development Service) group, addressing them on various matters.

It’s common practice to avoid attending meetings and especially taking on leadership positions because it means saying goodbye to all attempts of clandestine operations during your service year because now you’re in the limelight and the officials even know you by name, which also means when you're absent, you could possibly be queried. At my first CDS meeting, the then excos were deliberating a matter then solicited input from the rest of us. My attempt to keep my mouth sealed at all cost was decimated when someone’s illogical suggestion was quickly becoming policy. My vow of silence was broken when I followed protocol by standing and speaking for literally no more than 10 seconds, giving my rebuttal. Well, apparently that was all they needed. Next thing I know I’m occupying the seat of the Vice President following a brief election. Wait a minute…what just happened?! I was suppose to stay underground while pursuing projects with Blessing O. Foundation, but alas, I was unveiled. Soon I came to see the plausible integration of the group's mandate and that of the foundation. It was beyond feasible; a beautiful orchestration. It was this group I later trained to infiltrate the schools in the town to educate students on child sexual abuse. The foundation’s campaign objectives would be achieved using this medium, and people were on board, or so I presumed. 

Mom and Legal Aid educating students on child abuse during morning assembly

I’ve been privileged to lead some eclectic groups over the years, but this was my first experience leading Nigerian peers. After my first few meetings, I concluded that they are the most challenging. Few months into it, I’m changing my mind because I realized it was my paradigm that needed shifting, not necessarily theirs. Initially I wanted to title this post- ‘Motivating the unmotivated’, but I was humbled by an epiphany as I reread my first draft.

A corp member presenting to a school at morning assembly

I wanted to start this post by saying, motivating the unmotivated is perhaps one of the more challenging aspects of leadership. I sympathize with David in the Bible when the men under his authority were disgruntled, discouraged, depressed, and the list goes on and on. Talk about pulling teeth. This service year I’ve swallowed the bitter pill of trying to envision a people who just don’t want to be there. I can’t blame them for this attitude because I, too, tried to escape this obligation, plus the youth service prosaic activities and administration can be very frustrating, giving one more justification of doing the absolute minimal possible.

Another aspect of my leadership challenge was their facial expressions. I think we, Africans, are known for our flamboyant expressions, or lack thereof. At times it seems the expression of happiness can be concealed behind the expression of dullness, and I don’t really understand this, but that’s beside the point. When I stand before my fellow corpers to address them, I stare in the face of blank stares, and maybe this is normal? Honestly it threw me off internally the first few times, until I began hearing what people thought and said of me behind my back, thankfully, mostly encouraging things. It sure didn’t show in their expressions. As I type this I'm simultaneously aware of my need for affirmation, especially when uncertainty knocks at your gate because I endeavored into an unknown territory.

To end this post more appropriately, I will share my epiphany- leaning on people’s affirmation as a source for relevancy is building a house on quick sand (because let’s be honest- stamps of approval dashed out in form of facial expressions or words of affirmation is a form of validation). This isn't necessarily a negative ideology, but if one cannot stand on conviction alone when addressing a people or taking action, the resistance, be it reality or perceived, will knock one down eventually. Conviction is the common thread that wove William Wilberforce and Dr. MLK together, a century apart. Conviction is critical and perhaps one of the fundamental ‘make or break’ of rising leaders. 

the life of black hair

me & my dancing partner, Andrea, at a friend's wedding

I just returned from holiday in the U.S. and some asked how I felt in coming back after being gone for some months. Others made comments on how my Nigerian accent was much stronger, while others engaged me as if I had never left, and of course there are ones who commented on my hair. I wore braids (with attachments or extensions), and though this wasn’t my propensity while in America, it almost has become so in Nigeria because to take care of hair here is kinda challenging, for two reasons- time & the concept of beauty.

Black women in the U.S. underwent a movement towards natural hair in the last few years. We went from perming/relaxing our hair to letting it all go. (quick aside- On a trip to Morocco some years back with a team, a crazy, beautiful friend of mine, Angie, and I visited with young ladies who were Muslim. They wore their lovely head-scarfs and dined with us as we started a conversation about hair. After some time Angie looks at them and while gesturing like the lady in red, flinging her arms towards her hair says, ‘why don’t you just let it all out. In consternation, the ladies gasped. The thought of being a kind of loose woman, abandoning all sense of morality, neglecting their cultural norm and exposing their hair in public was appalling. Let’s just say we didn’t share another meal with them again. Perhaps they felt insulted by that suggestion. Ok…back to the main theme here- HAIR) Maybe, just maybe black women got tired of putting in chemicals every few weeks and being absolutely terrified of water, drizzling from above or full immersion, there’s fire on the mountain, run run run is what we did at the sight of water, one of the most natural, self sustaining elements on this planet. We traded one pain (burn from relaxers) to another (learning to comb your hair). We wanted freedom, so we let free, rediscovering our different textures, wave patterns, roughness and new hair creams, choosing twists, twists out, fros, fo-hawks, dreads, sisterlocks and anything else you can create.

 

 

 

Once I asked God why He made black people’s hair sooooo high maintenance, like seriously. His response: His intent with it was and still is to engender community. Think about it- Nothing brings women of color together like hair. In Seattle I’d walk around and when a fellow black woman enjoyed what her eyes laid upon in the style of my hair that day, it was common to get stopped and asked, ‘how did you get it to do that?’ It’s the only thing that justifies stopping a stranger on the street and walking away as the quaintest of friends. Ask any black woman if the following is true: she can walk over to two black women doing hair, irrespective of how tough they may look, get all up in their personal spaces, admire and touch their hair, hold extensive conversation without any kind of introduction. ‘Hair’ stands alone. It’s all the introduction one needs. I walked through the ghettos of Cape town, South Africa with two of my white male friends not too long ago on a quest to find the hairdresser who could braid my hair how I wanted it. We walked from container, turned into shop, to container, and when we entered, I would approach the hairdresser and customer, admire the hair, gist, laugh, and walk away. I told them, ‘fellas, this is the beauty of black women and hair’. They marveled at all the different possible hairstyles. I love exposure.

I moved to Nigeria with natural hair and that was a very different sight for Nigerians, especially in the smaller town where I live. In bigger cities like Lagos and Abuja, I hear it’s becoming the trend, slowly but surely. Because Nigerians don’t know how to conceal their facial expressions, I’ve gotten many different looks. Beyond looks, commentaries, from, ‘you’re bravo o. How do you even comb your hair?’ to ‘your hair looks rough, you should try something else’. After the negative comments, even the strongest of women begin wavering in confidence. In all candor, when I wear my natural hair in Nigeria, I don’t feel as beautiful as I know I am. When in braids or something added, people seemingly look upon me more favourably. Thankfully I do have people who appreciate natural and actually prefer that look on women, most of them being men.

Well, I finally caved. After 8 months of rejecting a cover up (weave), I caved. This came after a good guy friend told me I should try changing my look. He had his motives and I was reluctant even in listening because surely it meant changing who I am, but the more I thought about it, the more reasons I had to just try something different. So the next day I sat down at my neighbor’s shop with the intent to walk away with a fo-hawk with my natural hair and I got up with my first ever weave, not a wig o, a weave-on. I even called my Aunty before making that decision. Don’t ask me why it was such a big deal, but it was to me. My wrestle- Am I betraying the natural hair movement and giving into the concept that a cover up is more suitable, more mature, more attractive?! I still don’t know the answer. All I know is that something is covering my hair and it is quite alright…for now. It gives me a break from daily hair maintenance.

I walked into work yesterday and an admirer of my natural hair said, “why did you hide your fine hair?” I was internally elated. These comments lift my spirit because all hope in natural beauty isn’t lost. Brave women like Lupita Nyong'o and Viola Davis are using their platforms to redefine black beauty. We are on an upward movement and we’re all better off for it.

Ok- I have many thoughts on ‘How To Get Away With Murder’ TV series, but answer this question- Does Viola Davis’ character Annalise Keating look better with or without a wig?

Quiet lamb turned warrior

I've spent the last week reading through the book of revelation while thinking about Christmas and the entrance of the Savior of the world. The beautiful dichotomy of the quiet lamb turned warrior, and the implication this should have on Christians. I thought it most appropriate to share with you this spoken word piece I wrote some time ago while in Nigeria. Feel free to comment. All thoughts welcomed, even dissenting ones and I promise not to treat you like President Paul Kagame treated dissidents back when he first came to power in Rwanda. (that's an African political joke:))

GRACE

The all sufficient one who stands tall

He is all Grace

All truth

The entirety of our reality

The truth is as we lift Him, eyes of men are drawn in

Grace has a name,

the effervescent metamorphosis of His essence

To seek and to find is the glory of kings

If you are a king, go find grace

Search Him out

Allow me to help you

Go to His home, knock on the door to His throne

His home encapsulated in the God being

Nestled in the depth of His Spirit

His home is in me, His home is me

so you can refer to me as a queen

His spirit who knows the mind of Christ

He searched the heart of men looking for where to abode

He knocked on the door to my heart, I opened

Embraced him unrelenting

Where I go, Grace follows, oozing out and sipping through

Can you lay ahold of Him? Don’t be shy,

Approach the throne of grace with confidence and ask for what you need

It doesn’t matter where you’ve been or where you’re coming from

Those who hunger and thirst will be filled

His generosity is far too high He never runs dry

To the increase of His Gov’t there is NO END

Spanning the dimension of forever and a day

He is the first, the last

All things- nature, magnificent galaxies

Even the highest figment of your fantasies

All held by His sustaining power

Even the Sadducees couldn’t comprehend this

What then is the meaning of this sustaining-

to catapult one from despondency to a permanent state of REST

set between the ultimate reality that He is, therefore I am

His movement none can fathom

He’s like water fire

Soothes body soul spirit

Mends broken minds

Heals wounded hearts

Cloud of despair attempts to descend on a family after the loss of a child

Grace envelopes the room, galvanizing them to sing praises to the one seated in heavenly places

Hopelessness and grief crouch near like hidden lions on the prowl

Grace violently tramples on their vices using intangible devices

Grace isn’t denial of truth confined to all 5 senses but acknowledgment of him who transcends. Our chosen reality demands this

It isn’t conjuring up all one’s might to keep positive perspective, but in this retrospective pause

Selah

Remembering not by power or by might but by the permeation of His Spirit, says the Lord

Rain rain don’t go away

Come again yesterday today and forever

For as rain and snow drip drops unto the ground, watering all,

providing seed for ye sower and bread to be lowered into the bellies

so shall his word burst forth from his mouth like wind and fire, like the gentle whisper, covering every crevice in the earth.

It yields forever fruit, lasting, uninhibited

returns to him full of treasures untainted unadulterated

You cannot contain it

His words come back saturated

Bubbling over with anticipation & proclamation

To the increase of His govt there is no end

To the apprehension of His grace- be unrelenting

Grace- the earnest anticipation of good, like soaring on wings of eagles

Without much effort

Without much flapping of your wings

Go ahead- SOAR

In other news- My nephew is the most handsome creature I ever did see.