Nigeria Journal: July 9th - Thoughts

 I’m more than half-way through with my time here in Nigeria. In less than two days, I’ll be entering my fourth week of teaching. It goes without saying that time sure does fly. However, it hasn’t been a complete whirlwind of joy and unabashed exuberance. There have been some challenges for me in the three weeks since I’ve landed in Enugu. For one, my body is really struggling to adjust to the humid nights here in Nigeria. I toss and turn all night and am essentially unable to get a full rest. I’m covered in sweat and my sheets are constantly sticking to every inch of my body. The only thing that’s good about waking up sweaty and gross is jumping in the ice cold shower in the morning. It wakes me up and gets me prepared to face the day. I’ve also grown rather timid when going out. I never thought that this would happen to me, but I’m finding the constant barrage of attention and stares I receive to be really soul-crushing. I know that a vast majority of the people are simply curious (especially the children), but I’m really exhausted from all the “white man” comments. It’s difficult walking into a restaurant or large store and having literally every single person turn and stare. I feel as if I have something horrifically wrong with my face, like my eyes have fallen out of their sockets and are rolling around on the floor with small radio control antennas attached to them. Although, I must admit that I do get a chuckle every time I go to relieve myself in the bush and EVERYONE watches to see where I go. I don’t know if they’re trying to ‘catch a glimpse’ or what, but of course, they want to see the color wheel of the human race, right!?

Each morning I wake up and am usually delivered breakfast (if there is enough food), which normally consists of some fried plantains, eggs, and fruit. Isador, Dr. Korieh’s brother, makes me a nice boiling mug of tea. It’s the perfect beginning. Nigerians get up before 6:00am. Often, when I ask the children when they get up for school, most of them say “4 or 5.” I can hear our neighbors busy washing clothes, tending their garden, and sweeping the porch before my alarm goes off at 6:30. Nigeria has an unreliable power system, so the human cycle of rising at dawn and preparing for sleep at dusk seems to be the norm. It’s amazing how quickly my circadian clock has caught on to the Nigerian rhythm of life. Yet, I do miss late nights in the pub. Many of the houses around the school are huge complexes that are currently in different stages of completion. Many of the houses are owned by Nigerians living abroad. For those who are living in the area, it’s a rather lonely community, although I’m sure all of this will change in about 5 years when families begin to move in.

Nigeria, as I’ve said many times, is a country of extremes. And much like the United Staets, there are certainly “haves” and “have-nots.” Right next to large mansions, are dilapidated wooden shacks with sheet metal roofing. The children in these family compounds run around in shabby clothes (or completely naked). The life of the family is all out doors: they bath outside, wash their clothes in the shadow of corn stalks, and eat dinner in the comfort of their orange trees. Children, in some homes, never go to school—most likely a consequence of parents not having enough money to pay the tuition. Millions of Nigerians have left the country to find their riches abroad, sending billions of dollars of remittances back to the country. Most Nigerians are educated up to the high school level and I would say a majority have some college/university education. Children here aspire to be doctors, lawyers, professors, and artists—very different than American kids, whose eyes have been fixated on sports figures and pop stars. The major difference here is that the Nigerian middle class is not as powerful or nearly as large as the one in the United States. But although the Nigerian family might lack some of the physical amenities of their American counterparts, I have sensed no lack of ambition of hope for the future. This, of course, changes, when one asks them about the fate of their country, which, for many, brings up questions of unity, purpose, and inevitably Boko Haram and the “NORTHERNERS.”

For an American used to comfort, air-conditioning, and large supermarkets in which to shop, Nigeria would be a shocking experience. It has been for me. The chaos of life here is very difficult to understand and grasp. Time is not “of the essence” in this country, nor are laws. I’ve written about the driving habits of many of my Nigerian friends, and while the stories make for some good adventures, they nevertheless serve as a microcosm of their thought process: highly individualized with a distrust/disregard for authorities. The disregard for authorities is understandable, considering many Nigerian political leaders and police officers are exalted by name but scoundrels by character. And in regards to the individualism to the extreme: I’d say it runs in Igbo’s blood (at least in the Southeast). Their culture is one that has famously been hard to manage. They are an ethnic group that has never had a king or a leader. The Igbo traditional structure was village-based with both men and women taking part in deciding upon important matters. The nation of Igbo then is a fractured one, with localized loyalties coming before Igbo loyalties, even though, when faced with the question “Are you Nigerian or Igbo?” almost all of them would answer Igbo before Nigerian. Igbo language is the perfect avenue through which to see this famous fracturedness and chaos: every village has its own dialect, with some being nearly unintelligible to others. It’s as if they are speaking a different language, even though they all call it Igbo. It would be like if in Pennsylvania, those who lived in Pittsburgh spoke “American English” so vastly different than those in Ambridge that they would struggle to understand each other. It’s the case here. I find it fascinating.

Anyways, back to my morning of fried plantains and tea: After I finish eating, I take my malaria pill and plan a few lessons. I have been working mostly with grades three, four, and five. Each class has between 4 -8 students. I have been told that I’m here to show the Nigerian teachers different methods of teaching. Through my own observations, I’ve come to the conclusion that Nigerian pupils are rarely taught/encouraged to think creatively on their own. Almost all of the in-class teaching takes place at the chalk board, with the teachers having the students repeat information, so it is easily regurgitated on a test. This is not exactly the best style. Rarely are students allowed to go outside and they are never encouraged to explore their own interests. In that vein, I have decided to teach project-based lessons. The teachers at the school have found my methods to be very strange, and quite frankly, many of them don’t take them seriously, but I know the kids are learning a lot and having a lot of fun with me. I’m having them make a travel magazine, write a play, draw maps, play sports, and read books. I’ve instilled daily reading times and have encouraged the teachers to use the schools library resources to their advantage. We’ll see if they do….

The school is called Pater Noster Academy and was founding in 2011 by my Marquette University professor, Dr. Chima Korieh. His goal was to open an elementary school that was based on American-style curriculum. At the beginning, everything was working extremely well, but within the past year, there has been turn-over and some of the current teachers are struggling to understand the pedagogical differences between the United States and Nigeria—which is why I’m here. The school provides me with a small room in the back of the building. I have a bed, a plastic desk, and a plastic chair. Most of my things are strewn about the floor. There is sand EVERYWHERE. I bath with ice cold well water pumped into the building from a water tank just outside my window. I have a view of the school’s yard, which is essentially one gigantic sand box with a few swings and an old basketball hoop. The school here needs art supplies and basketballs badly. If you want to donate, please get in contact with me or comment on this blog.

Every morning I wake up to children singing and clapping in the court yard. They then run into the building and come busting through the screen door to my room. All of them yell “UNCLE! UNCLE! Good morning!” When I walk into a class room, all the students stand and sing, “Good morning Uncle. We are happy to see you. God Bless you.” (female teachers are called Aunty, while male teachers are known as Uncle).  Staff have been attempting to teach me some Igbo words, but I’ve been a miserable student, choosing to focus more on lesson planning than studying. But, I’ve picked up a few: Ibo lachi – good morning; Ndewo – how are you; Adama – I’m fine. Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten very close with the staff here, as most of my time is caught up with the children. I’d love to spend more time with the little kids, but it seems as though I won’t be able to. After three classes and then a recess time I lead, I’m pretty exhausted and want a nice long break.

Many of the students at this school do not have the money to pay for it. Dr. Korieh fits the bill for many families, who are in major debt to him. He doesn’t ask for repayment. He just gives. It’s quite amazing. Yet, this also explains why he can be very demanding and gets upset when materials are disrespected.

I’ve tried to give a few of my new Nigerian friends some American food. And here is the tally: they love peanut butter; HATE sunflower seeds; DISLIKE almonds (for the most part); And don’t understand why we like tomato soup J.

 Today after school, I walked down to the local store and purchased some Nigerian beer (I’ve quickly found that Star is the best Nigerian brand). Most of my colleagues didn’t believe me when I told them I was going to the store to pick up “bread and beer.” They just laughed. But when they saw me coming back with a bag of beer and bag of bread, they all asked quite astonishedly, “Jeremy, you take alcohol!?” I said, “Of course! Sometimes I take a little too much.” And at that they all smiled and drove home. Nigerians are extremely religious so many of them do not drink and smoke. In fact, what I’m about to say might seem unbelievable to some of my MKE friends, but I’ve yet to even SEE a cigarette. No one smokes. NO ONE. And I’ve never seen anyone drunk yet. This most definitely is not Riverwest…