8th of May
Our first five days in Nigeria were in a hotel (for training purposes, for getting to know each other "Hi I'm from the UK" "Hi I'm from Nigeria") in the capital: Abuja. The facilities and style of the rooms were pretty much what I would expect from a hotel in Europe. Towards the end of the five days Nigerian volunteers and the programme supervisors would keep mentioning that soon we would be going to "the real Nigeria".
The real Nigeria. I was the last to be dropped off the bus; the area the UK male volunteers were staying in looked United-States-of-American (like what I imagined Georgia or a humid State to look like). The streets were organised in a grid, the houses were one storey (does that make it a bungalow? Maybe bungalows are one storey houses for old people) and had porches. There were lots of grass and trees.
As weird/strange/nervous/exciting experiences go, getting of a bus with your bags to just walk into a house (bungalow?) in a country you've never been to before, where they speak a brand of English that isn't instantly understandable (3 weeks in I'm getting there...), knowing that you are going to live there for 3 months (11 weeks) is up there with the best of them.
Our first five days in Nigeria were in a hotel (for training purposes, for getting to know each other "Hi I'm from the UK" "Hi I'm from Nigeria") in the capital: Abuja. The facilities and style of the rooms were pretty much what I would expect from a hotel in Europe. Towards the end of the five days Nigerian volunteers and the programme supervisors would keep mentioning that soon we would be going to "the real Nigeria".
The real Nigeria. I was the last to be dropped off the bus; the area the UK male volunteers were staying in looked United-States-of-American (like what I imagined Georgia or a humid State to look like). The streets were organised in a grid, the houses were one storey (does that make it a bungalow? Maybe bungalows are one storey houses for old people) and had porches. There were lots of grass and trees.
As weird/strange/nervous/exciting experiences go, getting of a bus with your bags to just walk into a house (bungalow?) in a country you've never been to before, where they speak a brand of English that isn't instantly understandable (3 weeks in I'm getting there...), knowing that you are going to live there for 3 months (11 weeks) is up there with the best of them.
Some children helped me with my bags (as one of the organisers said to them
"help him with his bags, he is your brother now" which was nice in a
way that the bond of brotherhood was formed, but sort of sinister how it was
forced on the little'uns "your brother now hahahah" [cackles
imaginary]) My room lead straight on from the gated porch. The thing that first
struck me was the colour blue. My room had bright blue (slightly turquoise,
depends who you are talking to) walls and the mattress on the floor in the
corner had a baby blue Hello Kitty sheet. I placed my bags on the vinyled
floor.
The (can't think of word, babies have it, belly buttons) cord connecting me
to Global Xchange organisation and the friends I had made had been cut (I was
going to use an astronaut and his cable metaphor but I think the baby in a
brand new world suits the situation better than being stranded in
space...suffocating...to death). It was getting dark outside and due to the
nature of Nigerian electricity (unreliable, power cuts for days) it was getting
dark inside as well as I sat in the lounge with a group of children looking at
me. They were curious yet shy, a slow procession of questions were asked to me
as I sat quite upright as I felt like I was intruding on someone's house (bungalow?).
That was the first night. I discovered two of the children question society were my brothers (the rest were neighbours). Ofa aged 8 who is energetic and joyful. Victor aged 12 who is clever and kind. They both have many names, Ofa is Ofa's tribal name yet he also has the name Bryan/Brian (as you can tell I am not sure on the spelling. It's Brian, he just told me), and Victor has the tribal name Menfone (Ofa helped me on the spelling of this name too). I use Ofa and Victor as they were the names they gave to me the first night and also the names they said they preferred when I asked them some days later. I'm still not quite sure on the name front, at first I thought they had a English first name and then a family name (a la England) and also a tribal name, yet Jones (the Nigerian programme supervisor) told me that he has his name, his father's name and his grandfather's name. I will have to investigate some more.
My role in the house is a mixture of family member and guest, and is displayed most clearly by the way the mother and the father treat me. My Mummy referred to me as her son from the first day and due to the culture I referred to her as Mummy (In Nigeria you refer to ladies as Mummy or Mummy [insert name of child]), she asks me to do things round the house and tells me what not to do. Mr Etta has numerously told me to feel free in the house as I am a guest and wants me to have a pleasant stay in Nigeria. Due to him working away from home late hours and him saving his number on my phone as "Mr Etta" (my Mummy saved hers as "Mummy") I am a little lost what to address him as (his first name is Victor which confuses matters), so I generally speak to him in a way where I don't have to address him (key example "hello, how was your day?")
That was the first night. I discovered two of the children question society were my brothers (the rest were neighbours). Ofa aged 8 who is energetic and joyful. Victor aged 12 who is clever and kind. They both have many names, Ofa is Ofa's tribal name yet he also has the name Bryan/Brian (as you can tell I am not sure on the spelling. It's Brian, he just told me), and Victor has the tribal name Menfone (Ofa helped me on the spelling of this name too). I use Ofa and Victor as they were the names they gave to me the first night and also the names they said they preferred when I asked them some days later. I'm still not quite sure on the name front, at first I thought they had a English first name and then a family name (a la England) and also a tribal name, yet Jones (the Nigerian programme supervisor) told me that he has his name, his father's name and his grandfather's name. I will have to investigate some more.
My role in the house is a mixture of family member and guest, and is displayed most clearly by the way the mother and the father treat me. My Mummy referred to me as her son from the first day and due to the culture I referred to her as Mummy (In Nigeria you refer to ladies as Mummy or Mummy [insert name of child]), she asks me to do things round the house and tells me what not to do. Mr Etta has numerously told me to feel free in the house as I am a guest and wants me to have a pleasant stay in Nigeria. Due to him working away from home late hours and him saving his number on my phone as "Mr Etta" (my Mummy saved hers as "Mummy") I am a little lost what to address him as (his first name is Victor which confuses matters), so I generally speak to him in a way where I don't have to address him (key example "hello, how was your day?")
Communication within the household on the whole is okay. The father and I
have the most problems, but we are both smiley characters so the problems are
only communicational. Generally I can understand the mother and vice versa, but
if not, Victor (Victor Junior) is quick to repeat what was said in a way the
other understands. Everyone is understanding of cultural differences including
my vegetarianism which is great. My vegetarianism was the thing I was most
worried about before coming to Nigeria but it hasn't been a problem at all. Me
not being a Christian has been a much bigger issue, usually greeted by
bemusement, casual intolerance (not too sure on this word) and sympathy. Most
of the time I feel uncomfortable talking about it as I realise how strongly
they believe and how large a role it plays in their life, I don't want to talk
about my views (or lack of views) in case it comes across as me attacking (too
strong a word?) their faith. I usually just go with the ol "your parents
were Christians, mine were athesists" routine, maybe I am playing naive,
maybe I should challenge their views, but then again I have to live in this
country for another 9 weeks... maybe towards the end when they know that
despite me not being a Christian I still have morals and... feelings and all
that.
So that is my host home experience thus far: a new born baby in a bungalow
of God.
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