The power cut...

Sitting in front of my computer, typing between phone calls. The printer hums beside me, lights flash on the photocopier behind. Information kiosks blink in the corner, the heater warms my toes. And in a flash it’s all gone. A power cut in Ireland.
An alarm shrieks in the sudden dullness. And in a minute folks start to gather. Figuring out how to contact Emergency Services without a landline. How to gather information without the switchboard. How to inform folks without the intercom. A plan quickly comes together – a mobile phone brings accurate information about the lightly duration of the problem. After a bout of jokes, work resumes in whatever shape is possible.
Power cuts in Nigeria are a bit different. For starters they happen several times a day – if you’re lucky. Cos if there are no power cuts - there’s a very good chance there was no power to cut. Blackouts are greeted with a wearied shrug, a shake of the head, and a flurry of window-opening. After a bout of jokes, work resumes in whatever shape is possible.

Happy days...

Kabba happy Kabba










Treking in Kagoro









Bauchi bash









Paddys morning fry up









Dutch mayhem

Favourite pictures of Nigerian children...

Children sitting on Dala Hill - one of the most beautiful places in Nigeria










Fishing at Guara Falls












My gorgeous neighbours

Favourite pictures of work...

Primary 6 St Peter and Pauls Primary School, Mikenkeli






















Library staff & my mam (and honoury staff Aiesha)









Library skillshare










CERC colleagues - Kolos, Shu'aibu & Sadisu

Irish summer...

Dry.
Looks like rain.
Mist.
Rain in the wind.
Spitting.
Raining.
Heavy shower.
Bucketing down.
Absolutely pourin.

Irish Winter.

Adventures of a returnee...

Turns out I’m not ready to stop writing just yet, so off I go again.
Now that I’m home, there really are too many differences to take in. But sometimes things just take me by surprise. Like potholes. After a few months in Limerick I am now familiar with the 2 potholes on my regular routes. Gone are the days of jitterbug driving as I battered my noggin of the roof/window/other passengers; bottom trampolining on suspensionless seats; dramatic swerving, gesturing & honking punctuated by varyingly serious breakdowns.
Driving is one of the best consolations of being home.

Life goes on...

Now that Im home I still love to hear the continuing story of the magnificent place that is Nigeria. So I read the blogs of some of the current volunteers. Long may their adventures continue

Coco http://tactiletheworld.wordpress.com/
Glenn http://acanuckamuck.blogspot.com/
Thessa http://www.wahaladey.blogspot.com/

Sai an jima...

My final six weeks in Nigeria was undoubtedly the craziest time of my life. There was so much to do and a huge desire not to leave anything undone.

On the work front – we got a great contribution from Irish Aid for library books. It really boosted the collection and gave the space a ‘proper library’ feel. Then we needed to make more bookshelves and reorganise the library layout. Having to spend a bunch of money in a limited time would normally be something I love! However, it can often be difficult to get hold of unessential items in a hurry, thus hindering my splurge. However, great shopper that I am, I battled on. Buying books, making furniture, stocking up on stationery, photocopying left right and centre, collecting scrap paper… We also held our last staff training sessions which was great – some repeat attendees were able to help out their newer colleagues which was heart-warming. As usual in the midst of the ‘wahalla’ (great Nigerian word for mayhem) there was plenty of laughs.

On the fun front – there was lots of it! My last few weekends were a riot. From the last Minna gathering to the Dutch celebration of Queens Day to the housewarming of a friend. My exhaustion was largely self-induced. Best of all were my sendforths. I had my colleagues to dinner – about 20 people – which was a wonderful whirlwind of people and food. My brave colleagues tasted (and obliterated) the food I prepared. My kind neighbours supplemented my plates & cutlery when all possible alternatives were gone. The compound kids carried and carted with huge grins on their faces. And then my colleagues held a sendforth for me. The week before I had been summarily summoned to accompany the admin gals to the tailor. I was promptly measured and then sent back to sit in the car as the ladies huddled up to agree the finer details of the purchase. The sendforth coincided with my line manager’s last visit to Minna, and so she sat beside me at the High Table and smiled for all (the many) photographs. It was a really lovely (and little bit emotional) day.

And now the time has come...

I think the time has come when I have to write my last blog entry. I’ve been putting this off for a long time – a big part of me is still convinced that being home is just some temporary thing. That I’ll back in my lovely house, with my happy neighbours & friends at some point. That I’ll sit in the library again and hatch plans about what needs ‘doing’!

Being home is great. Settling in isn’t so much of a challenge – but feeling settled is something different. I guess that just comes with time. I miss Nigeria every day. Not necessarily the crazy roads or basic food – but I miss the people. I miss greeting and being greeted. I miss random conversations on the back of an okada. I miss the strange and obscure events that littered my days. I miss our weekend gatherings. It’s a great thing to have two places in the world where you feel at home. But it’s a terrible shame that you can’t be in both places at once :-)

Winding down...

I haven’t written in my blog for aaaages. As I start to wind down things are pretty hectic but not all that interesting! Developments have been both good and bad as I finish up. On the good side the library is looking great. We received a couple of good grants and we have a fine core book collection now. The library is properly furnished and it really feels like a childrens’ reading area. In addition, our training for the library staff of local schools went really well. It was a lot more practical than the previous workshop and I think that helped in getting the message across. For instance, we made 8 small booklets for each participant and it was these booklets that they accessioned, catalogued and classified. It helped folks to link the training to what they need to do back in their libraries. The second training days were even more fun – we practiced using atlases, dictionaries and encyclopedias and in the afternoon we made posters for our libraries using information from library books. So that felt like a very positive (if exhausting) week!
On the not so good side – replacing myself has become a problem. And obviously that is a big problem. The way VSO works is that each volunteer should have a counterpart, someone who they work with who will take their place when they leave. Ive never had a proper (qualified) counterpart as my organisation couldn’t afford to pay another salary. It wasn’t a huge problem in the beginning as my role is essentially different from that of the librarian who will take over from me. I was setting up a library – sourcing for funds, meeting suppliers, dealing with a budget, training etc. My replacement will be running a library – maintaining the stock and building, adding to the collection occasionally, maintaining a good atmosphere, helping students etc. So late last summer things started to come together – two students of library science came to us on work experience. Both were lovely but one was particularly hard working and enthusiastic. I discussed it with my boss and we agreed that she should take my place when she graduates this summer. However, several months later I was informed that she wouldn’t be able to take up the position for 18 months cos of the compulsory youth service year students complete after graduation. My old communication problems came back to haunt me – I cant believe no one thought to mention it in our many discussions. So with 4 months before I went home I was back to the drawing board. I approached another school librarian – again someone whom I had worked with on staff training. He was enthusiastic and hardworking and had good support from the library community. He had some issues with the placement and we worked on solving them over the following couple of months (infact I would swear I did solve them) but just a fortnight ago he rejected the job offer… disaster. So Im currently hoping that third times a charm. This time we are going through the recruitment process in the Nigerian manner – I have made a suggestion for the only other person I think can do the position justice and I have asked the centre to request her to be transferred. That is how things work in the Nigerian civil service – you report to whichever school you are assigned to and you can be transferred at the drop of a hat. (I know I sound harsh – but infact if she doesn’t want to move we wont follow through. But this is a promotion so Im hoping she will..)
So there are my recent successes and failures. I really hope I will have better news soon. Please send your prayers, karma, happy thoughts and all that good stuff my way :-)

Waste not...

I love reading about various Western city’s plans to deal with traffic congestion. Trying to encourage car pooling among a very resistant population. These problems don’t occur in Nigeria – if theres one thing you never want to waste it is car space. You never travel with fewer than 7 adults in a regular car (children up to the age of 7 or 8 don’t count, neither do animals). At the weekend I travelled in a minibus – there were 6 jerry cans of various oils and fuels, 2 large suitcases, a ghana bag that could easily accommodate a grown man, a sack of yams and 3 sacks of various other vegetables, 3 smaller suitcases and 2 rucksacks. The various laptops and handbags were squished up front with the passengers.
Or just look at this car – transporting firewood and plantain. No silly bureaucratic car pooling laws necessary in Nigeria.

Calabar...

Last week I took some holidays to join some friends on a trip in the south of Nigeria. Calabar is an old colonial town and one of the most popular tourist destinations in the country. So I travelled to Abuja on Monday evening in order to start by 6am on Tuesday morning. Our ‘luxury bus’ (i.e. air conditioning, a seat each & a driver with a will to live) took 9.5 hours to reach Calabar. There I joined Helen, Julia and Edel who had just spent their Easter break in Ghana, and we stayed with another volunteer Yikii for 3 days. Theres plenty to see in Calabar – probably the best Niaja museum (although light went after 20 minutes so we only saw the small section with natural light); and the monkey sanctuary at Pandrillus where they take care of endangered drill monkeys and chimpanzees and prepare them to be returned to their natural habitat in the Cross River rainforest. Unfortunately these primates are very endangered and there is still a huge culture of hunting them for food and for sale. The sanctuary is full of rescued animals that have been taken as pets or entertainers. We also took a slow boat to Creek town – a beautiful trip up the almost Amazonian Cross river. It was funny to climb into a boat of Nigerians commuting between home and the city who were undoubtedly wondering what these crazy obiyos could enjoy about their daily journey.
By Friday we left Calabar and headed north. We spent the morning at the spectacular Kwa Falls thanks to a kind friend of Yikii’s who drove us. It was hard to leave that very peaceful place but then we went back to Calabar and chartered a car to take us 4 hours north to a little town by the rainforest. Early the next morning we headed into the rainforest. An hour drive followed by a 40-minute okada ride on a rough dirt road brought us to Afi Mountain before 8am. This is the second part of the Pandrillus monkey sanctuary. After the animals have adjusted to life in the Calabar sanctuary they are brought to live here in their natural habitat. They stay in large enclosures that are surrounded by electric fencing; this helps them to adjust back to life in the rainforest. At present there are 5 groups of drills monkeys and 1 group of chimpanzees at Afi. In the coming year there are plans to release the first group back into the wild. The drill monkeys are a joy to watch but Ive got to admit I loved the chimps. My two favourites were Pablo and the mad bad Murphy. Pablo is an elderly chimp who was rescued as traffickers tried to abscond with him to the Far East. By that time he had been in a hot ship container for so long that he suffered a stroke, and the effects of this are still clearly evident today as he limps about. But he was benign and curious and an utter gentleman. The same couldn’t be said for Murphy. Murphy was one of the many chimps rescued from bars in Nigeria; he was a source of entertainment for the customers and frequently tormented by children in the area. He has a good memory and a reputation for throwing stones at people. And he did. He started by lobbing a small stone at us grinning oyibos and then an orange. When that didn’t work he moved onto to a coconut (see wobbly picture as I was in fear of my life); when he came out of the bush with a big branch his effort finally paid off. We ran. But maybe my favourite story of all is of Kingston. He used to be in the chimp enclosure but had to be moved. Apparently one of his preferred pastimes was to go into the bush and find a long log. In the evening when the staff thinned out a bit he figured how to lean the log against the electric fence and climb out. Resulting in mayhem! Seeing these primates in their natural environment was a very special thing. The work done on behalf of these animals is amazing but it is not really supported here. Infact Nigerian zoos are regularly implicated in the hunting and selling of primates to both rich Nigerians and overseas zoos/private collectors. Its an uphill battle for the Pandrillus staff and others like them.
The rest of our stay in the rainforest was brilliant. Our cabins were hidden away in the trees. The walls were waste-high wood and then there was clear mossie-netting up to the roof. So you really felt like you were sleeping out. Infact if you lean back in your bed you could watch the stars. The bush shower was also a wonderful experience – out in the open with a bucket of warmed water over your head. The Cross River tourist board have built a canopy walkway in the forest that starts at about 14 feet up and climbs to 35 feet in the air. It is a swinging bridge up in the trees – equally spectacular and terrifying J All in all it was a fantastic trip and a great break before I go home. I left the rain in the south and I know it will soon start its journey north so I may see some rain before I finish up.

Feedback...

One of the things that is drilled into us at our training is the importance of m & e (monitoring and evaluation). After every training session we give out questionnaires about how to improve and follow up on the training. They are supposed to gather the thoughts of the participants and use them to improve our work. But I have yet to receive a questionnaire where someone ticked anything other than the best options. Even the comments are copied from one person to the next.
But then, at the end of the day you get the real feedback! My colleagues reluctantly tell me the various snippets of Hausa conversation that happened during the day. Sometimes its practical stuff – like being gently told that there wasn’t a cats chance in hell of people staying after 1pm on a Friday. And then theres the other stuff – people worried that I must be exhausted (well no one turns up on time so Im trying to decide at what point I should just start without them, and then the refreshements still haven’t turned up 10 mins before break time so Im sneaking in phonecalls as they work, and then if you have 20 people classifying little booklets at least two-thirds of them repeatedly want you to reassure them that theyre on the right path, and then trying to convince adults to make posters on large sheets of cardboard paper for the first time is a battle…) So yeah, I am actually exhausted at the end of it all. And alot more insightful than those pesky forms!

Weekend traveller...

I travelled last weekend, and as I had one or two things to do in Abuja I started out on Thursday. This meant arranging my meetings for Monday rather than the Thursday or Friday before. And so I was expecting 4 such meetings on my return on Monday – 2 librarians and 2 suppliers. But no one turned up.
Two wandered in on Tuesday failing to notice the difference. But the other 2 still hadn’t turned up by Thursday. So I called them, and both reacted in exactly the same way – “oh, you’re back?” But of course I was back; I have never not come back!
Travelling seems to be a long term commitment here in Nigeria – and “he has travelled” is sufficient to explain most absences. The notion of travelling 16 hours over 3 days doesn’t seem to sit well though. But then, the housewarming of the best hosts in Nigerian was well worth the journey :-)

Valuing teachers...

VSO volunteers have been doing some research among school teachers in Nigeria to try to understand the root causes of teacher demotivation. The resulting “Valuing teachers” report makes for difficult reading.
A key issue is the fact that teachers in Nigeria do not earn a “living wage”, that is they often cannot afford to live on their teaching income alone. Unqualified teachers (of whom there are many) earn N8000 a month (€5) and qualified teachers earn N15000 a month (€10) after about 10 years service.
So, many teachers supplement their income in other ways, for instance it is common for families to farm small plots of land. They do so by rising early in the morning and working from sun up. This can contribute to the high levels of absenteeism among school teachers, and stretches a struggling education system even further. In the words of the teachers themselves:

“Some days I have to decide whether to spend my money on transport to school or food for myself and my family”.
“I am already tired when I come to school. And then I have to teach a group of 80 or more hungry and unruly children. Sometimes, when one of my colleagues does not come to school, it is double that number. And I simply don’t have the energy to keep them under control by any means other than the cane…”

Pidgin...

I am still collecting brilliant saying in Pidgin English – its funny how differently we can use the same language, and how odd our sayings are too when you think about it

I will try my possible best I will give it my best shot
He never come again? He didn’t turn up?
Which one again? What else would you like to buy? (in the market)

Or my favourite, ‘that side’ refers to someplace foreign: how are your people that side? It reminds me of our own craziness abroad in the bridge...

Half of a yellow sun...

I have just finished reading a great book - 'Half of a yellow sun' by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. It is set in Biafra - a small part of Nigeria that sought independence during the 60s. Unusually, for a story immersed in war, the primary voices are that of a young woman and a houseboy. It starts like this…

Master was a little crazy; he had spent too many years reading books overseas, talked to himself in his office, did not always return greetings, and had too much hair. Ugwu’s aunty said this in a low voice as they walked on the path. “But he is a good man,” she added. “And as long as you work well, you will eat well. You will even eat meat every day.” She stopped to spit; the saliva left her mouth with a sucking sound and landed on the grass.
Ugwu did not believe that anybody, not even this master he was going to live with, ate meat every day. He did not disagree with his aunty though, because he was too choked with expectation, too busy imagining his new life away from the village. They had been walking for a while now since they got off the lorry at the motor park, and the afternoon sun burned the back of his neck. But he did not mind. He was prepared to walk hours more in even hotter sun. He had never see anything like the streets that appeared after they went past the university gates, streets so smooth and tarred that he itched to lay his cheek down on them. He would never be able to describe to his sister Anulika how the bungalows here were painted the colour of the sky and sat side by side like polite, well-dressed men, how the hedges separating them were trimmed so flat on top that they looked like tables wrapped with leaves.

Great books of our time...

One of the million things I love about working in a childrens' library... at any time when you look into a group of 30-40 kids, you can tell where the Guinness Book of Records is. Ive never known a book to inspire show a range of emotions in the faces crowding around it - curiousity, disbelief, eagerness, horror, hysterical giggles...

Inspiration strikes...

In a flash of inspiration, as I packed my bags to come to Nigeria, I emptied the few jigsaws out of their boxes. I needed the space and I figured the kids could make the jigsaws from memory (rather than the picture on the box).
Not so. Infact today I spent 40 mins trying to reassemble a red-hated-red-nosed-boxing-kangaroo. All the while praying that no one came through the door!

Giving with one hand...

The new improved NEPA (ESB) service has been giving almost 24-hour light since I returned. But to achieve this they have sacrificed on wattage. So while I can nearly always use my laptop, I often need to light candles to read. My phone charger is high-NEPA-maintenance, and my fridge alternates between lukewarm and toasty. The wattage dips according to usage - not just within the house but within the compound/surrounding area. This means the light is dimmer around dinnertime but (hallelujah) it is high in the night when my AC can eat all the wattage it needs as the world sleeps around me!

Improvements...

Minna has been undergoing a transformation of late - I wrote about it before. The city is being cleared of non-permanent structures and beggars are no longer allowed to linger. But a story in the paper recently shows how these changes are effecting some of the most vunerable people in our state.
A pickup carrying 105 children was stopped enroute from Kano to Suleja (a town between Minna and Abuja) on a six-hour journey. The children were aged from 4-14 years; they were "discovered loaded in two layers. In the first layer they were seated on their luggages while a shelf was put above them where the other set was accommodated."
The driver explained, "we wanted to take the children for Quranic education in Suleja, they are all Quranic students being taken for further education with their parents permission. I have been doing this for 15 years."
These children are known as Almajirai. I cant claim to know the ins and outs of the system but I have lived by one such group for 2 years. They spend their evenings in the football field beside my house and wander off in the direction of the mosque each evening as it gets dark. Each boy carries a bowl for begging, although they never approach me near my house (infact only the bravest of them will return my greetings). I often pass them sitting under a large tree in the morning (where I think they study the Quran with their malam or teacher); more frequently they are begging outside our local shop. In general, these children are the second or third sons (always boys) of impoverished families; their parents cannot afford their school fees and so they are sent to learn the Quran instead. Usually in a different city with no payment made towards their shelter or food. There is a component of humility in this system which requires the children to beg for food - although this educational system is in place in many Muslim countries without creating shelterless, hungry children who rely on the decency of a malam to care for them. The poverty in this place has made the system what it is, but the improvements in the state are no longer tolerating it.
One youngster from the pickup told the reporter: "I was to be taken from Agalawa to Suleja for Quranic education with the agreement of my parents. I am a Quranic student back at home. I was in the middle layer in the van. I want to go back home to my parents today".