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.