West African Good-byes

I've lived in West Africa on an expat compound for almost four years. Today we told our staff that we are leaving on an assignment back to the states. It was the hardest part of our leaving. We feel responsible for them and sad to know it is likely that we will not see them ever again. My husband is so kind and came from work so that we could tell them that we were packing up on this trip and leaving within the month. We asked them how they felt and if they wanted to say anything and our driver said, "There is nothing we can do. It is painful and we will miss you horribly, but this is the challenge of life."

So, my greatest regret is not leaving something of value here. Yes, our staff feels our genuine care and we have been generous with them, but there is more that I have wanted to do and leave behind. I've had this vision of creating a library and book exchange of some sort, but I have not carried this vision to fruition. Perhaps just an action every day toward manifesting this might be something to do, something small that can be done.

Life is full of beginnings and endings and hopefully, some joy and authentic connections along the way.

Blessings to my Nigerian and West African friends. I will carry you in my heart forever.

Ghanian Wisdom

My mother-in-law died today. She has not been well for a few weeks and we knew that this would happen. We live in West Africa, in Lagos, Nigeria as expats. Our stewardess is from Ghana and we love her. She has been very sad to know that my mother-in-law is dying and she has been sharing with me what it was like when her mother died.

Ginnie, our stewardess, was working in Accra selling goods to make money. She fell sick while in the city and they took her back to her village to die. While she was dying, she had someone write things down to give to her two daughters about how to live. Ginnie's junior sister is Gertrude and they received this wisdom from their mother on her death bed about how to live as women.

*In life, as a Christian, if you want doors to be open for you, you should not put things in your heart that are bad. Bad things will steal your heart like resentment, bad thoughts about people, gossip. Keep your heart pure.

*Don't mingle with people who do not have any ideas of doing better in life.

*Don't spend money on useless things, but save money for future reference.

*In marriage, remember as a woman to think about the best meal for your husband when he comes home from work so that there is peace. You think together and work together with your children.

*Teach your children that charity begins at home and character begins at home as well.

*When you are living 6 or 8 people in one flat and the children are together, teach them about cooperation and read to them about living in peace. Teach them NOT to fight and to work together so that you can live all together in peace.

*Don't depend on someone to do your work for you. You must work hard and you will succeed in what you do.

I think this is worthy of sharing across cultures.

Tiwa tiwa,

Sally

We are all one....

In Ghana, there is a saying that a mother births her children, breast feeds them until their teeth come in and are strong and fill their mouth. The mother has cared well for her child. Now when the mother begins to lose her teeth and age, it is her child's responsibility to care for her until all her teeth fall out, she dies and passes on. Our stewardess, Ginnie, told me this because she knows that my mother-in-law is dying. We told her yesterday that we would leave to bury her and she started to cry. She could not tell us why she was crying last night, but she told me this morning.

She said that in her heart she loves us and we are her family. She knows that we care for her and give to her from our hearts. She was imaging my mother-in-law and knows that she has dementia and has been very miserable in her hospitalized state. Ginnie says that she has been praying for us, for my mother-in-law, for my brothers and sisters-in-law and for the peaceful passing "under the care of God." She said that she is also sad that as we go back to the states for the HOLIDAYS, that we are not going to be able to gather with her and with our children, her grandchildren, and my mother-in-law will not have a chance to be happy wither her family. Ginnie is sad about this.

With all the challenges that my stewardess lives with, her heart remains generous and open to gift us with her care and love. She and her friend in DQ (Domestic Quarters) stayed up for two hours and prayed for us all last night. She says that we are her family and her heart is with us. This inspires me. I know the challenges she lives with in West Africa and how hard she works to support her family.

I am learning so much about kindness, connection and unity from my time in West AFrica. I am so grateful for the heart of the people here and the ease with which we are able to connect.

Tiwa Tiwa,

Sally

My gardner is twelve if he is anything. He seems very sweet and hard working. I finally asked him his age and he assured me he was twenty-five years old. Well, at least I can let myself off the hook for any possible violations of child labor laws. I don't know if they have child labor laws in Nigeria, but I do. I mean, I have some child labor boundaries and values that I am not willing to violate. In any case, it is a moot point and I'm glad.

His name is Monday and I found out that he has a 7 year old child. "It happened while I was in school, Madam," he said. I'm not really sure of the mores of fathering a child out of wedlock here in Nigeria so I asked him if this was okay with him and with the mother.

"Well, I have been near my son and his mother and we have been together, but we have quarreled and now she has moved away. I don't see them as often."

I could see that he was sad and told him I understood. He told me his friends tell him not to think about it. Being the queen of emotional intelligence, however, I let him know it is okay to be sad and that I know I would be if I could not be with my children. His eyes filled with tears and he hung his head. My eyes filled with tears too and we just stood for a minute.

That all happened yesterday and today when Monday came, I invited him into the house. I brought him upstairs to a room in which I keep a big box of books. My daughter collected them from children at her upper class, private school and I brought them in our annual shipment to give to the children here.

Monday was thrilled. I asked him if he thought his son would like some books and he said he thought he would. "His mother reads to him and I could read to him when I see him again."

I helped him with the book selection and chose some of my favorites; Charlotte's Web, A Wrinkle in Time and a non-fiction book with fables from Africa. I wanted his son to have pictures to see in the pages that reflected his skin color and an environment not so foreign to him. I think both are important: the opportunity to see something completely outside of your own culture and to imagine the possibilities for yourself as well as to know that you are not alone and to have your own culture reflected in print.

This gift to Monday is so small, but gave him such joy. I feel almost selfish feeling so good about

offering this small token to him for his son. I want to do more, but am trying to be satisfied with these small gestures of kindness that I am able to offer.

I am grateful today for the ability to do this. I look forward to Monday sharing with me his experience in reading to his son and to know if he liked the story.

A scene from the market.....

I watched the hustle and bustle of the scene with fascination and awe. The air was humid and stiflingly warm. The smell of human excrement mixed with petro pollution added a component of stench that was difficult to stomach. I wondered how my Nigerian friends lived with this odor each and every day.

The women were especially mesmerizing for me to watch. They carried their young securely tucked with colorful cloths on their backs, sometime one in front as well, and at the same time balanced goods on their heads to sell at market. I watched them navigate the large pools of water and deep, muddy holes from the rainy season. There were hundreds of others walking beside them from both directions as well as cars, buses and okadas. Their ease in movement through the crowd gave me a deepened appreciation to the term multitasking.

I wanted the okada drivers with passengers to have helmets as they navigated in between the cars and buses with no lanes, stop signs or signals to guide their way. Apparently it had recently become a law for them to wear helmets and provide their paying passengers one as well. I knew, however, that the enforcement of this new law would be sporadic. Helmets were probably unavailable at an attainable price for most. The threat of compliance would come only to illicit payments by the drivers to the police officers who would confront them at will. If the law’s intention was initially for the safety of the people, in the interim, it would be another opportunity for corruption and bribes to be paid. Still, I was amazed at the okada drivers’ focus and ability to avoid collisions that seemed probably from every direction.

In what seemed chaotic to me, there was an order for these people and this culture with an intention to provide for themselves and their children. They had learned to navigate it with immense skill. I watched with trepidation for their safety and health, but also with a great admiration. For those on the streets, eating and visiting with one another, there was animation and joy in their faces. Often there was laughter and an engagement in conversation. For the men, it often meant holding hands as they spoke without the self-consciousness of this intimate connection that we have in the West. These seemingly adverse conditions did not dampen their spirits. I am both inspired and eager to engage with them.

This is my life in Nigerian and in this culture of music, expression and a deep sense of family and community. I am grateful to have this time with my West African friends.

Don't Get Used to it.....

I've lived in West Africa now for three years. As an expat, I go back and forth to our home in the states at least three times a year. The cultural shock and travel is catching up with me a bit, I'd say, and I spend time crying every week.

West Africa and the people here are beautiful and wonderful in many ways. And as is the case in many countries in Africa, there is great poverty and lack. Here in Nigeria, there is much money from oil and gas but very little gets to the people. Roads are very bad and health care is shockingly lacking. I'm told by a Nigerian friend that The World Health Organization provides millions of dollars in medicines to be distributed to the people here free of charge. As is the case in many developing countries, government officials and the large government of Nigeria receive the drugs first. By the time the medicine is "distributed" to the people who need it, they are having to pay out of pocket for it and it is much more expensive, unattainably expensive for the Nigerian who is ill. Fraud is rampant.

So, there is much to see and my heart grieves. I was told three years ago that I would "get used to it" but decided that I did not want to "get used to it" if this meant closing my heart and shutting down emotions. I do not want to get used to children not having enough to eat and people suddenly dying for no apparent reason. Nor do I wish to get used to the smell of human waste or seeing animals slowing starving to death on the side of the road. My heart remains open and I cry often. Usually I feel angry and frustrated when I am crying because it doesn't really help anyone to cry, unless it translates into action. I prayer often, so that is good. A dear friend of mine told me that I could make a difference just in how I interacted with each person I meet here, one day and encounter at a time. This was a great help for me.

I am writing this blog because I want to ask others to hold this reality with me. I want to share the stories in hopes of inspiring others. I selfishly want to know that I am not alone in seeing and feeling and carrying in my heart and soul, the challenges of this developing country. If you are reading this, I trust you will breathe through it with me, stop and send a thought of intention and prayer for the people of West Africa. Perhaps as we hold it all together, this intention for transformation and healing for all, we will make a difference.

There is much to do, much to learn, much to feel, much to see. I believe in the power of intention and prayer. I also believe that when our hearts are open, we can more easily be guided intuitively by our Divine Source and God/Goddess. When we follow this guidance, whatever it may be, we make a difference in service for the highest good of all.

So here's to us keeping our hearts open and "not getting used to it" together.

With love,

S.