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Last Thursday was Marc’s 24th birthday, so I decided to host a murder.
Have you ever done one of those? Here’s how it works:
You gather a bunch of people together–in this case, eight–for a party. Each person is given a role to play and knows only a bit about himself before attending the party. Costumes are optional but make the game much more fun.
Once the guests arrive, each one is given a little booklet to play the game. On the first page are the rules, which all read aloud. Next, the scene is set so the guests have some idea of where they are and why they’ve been called to this particular setting. Then each guest silently reads additional information about himself included in the booklet. These are juicy bits of information that are meant for him to either “Reveal” or “Conceal.” After the guests introduce themselves and listen to a tape recording of the murder event to which they are now witnesses, there are four rounds during which the guests–and the host, if he’s participating–try to discover the murderer. Each person has a motive, and usually an opportunity, which comes out during these rounds. Guests try to conceal the information that incriminates them and reveal information about others to incriminate them. This involves revealing secret clues with additional information. It’s all an acting game, throwing yourself into your assigned role and defending your character to the best of your ability, while shamelessly accusing all other guests of vile acts.
We met in ancient Rome, at the home of a renowned poet, and had to figure out which one of us had killed him. It was great fun! Mom made a wonderful meal, and I made and decorated a birthday cake. We all sat down and dove into the game. Part of the fun is that not even the murderer knows he’s the murderer until the very end of the game, so each of us could equally be the guilty one. The game was littered with corny jokes and funny jokes alike, and references to modern culture, and we all had a good laugh–especially at the “laurel crown” with which our glorious Caesar adorned himself for the evening. (Oh how I wish I had photos!)
But I can’t tell you who the murderer was! Maybe you’ll want to play it, too!
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Saturday night, about 6:15, we all piled into my parents’ white Toyota station wagon and set off for the Carnival Dinner. There are so few events here in the missions community of Jos that I get excited about all of them! Every year, the 10th graders put together a fundraiser we call the Carnival. When I was in high school (does that phrase make me sound old or what?), the Carnival Dinner was part of the Carnival, put on in early March. The class not only organised a whole day of activities–mostly for children–like a fun fair, with face-painting, horseback riding, a zip line, a bouncing castle, a water slide, lots of food and prizes, etc, but they also organised a special dinner that same night, in two different seatings. It was a lot of work.
Actually, I was on furlough when my class did the Carnival, so I didn’t lift a finger to help. Thank God.
A few years later, though, someone brilliant suggested the sophomores split up the dinner from the rest of the event. They could have the Carnival Dinner in the fall and the Carnival in the Spring. *ding!* What a noval idea!
So on Saturday, we went to the Carnival Dinner, put on by the sophomores–to whom I taught English for three weeks in September. I was eager to see them shine and to eat yummy Italian food.
But we got to the Hill Station intersection, about halfway from our compound to the school, and discovered complete mayhem. Now, I’ve seen bad traffic, and I’ve sat in terrible jams, but I’d never seen anything like this in Jos. We sat at the intersection–and then in the intersection–for over 15 minutes. Total chaos reigned, as cars darted and inched all around the junction. (I guess I should mention that the traffic light at this particular junction hasn’t worked in at least five years.) Motorcycles rushed helter-skelter in between larger vehicles. Cars turned right and made U-turns to turn right again and by-pass the major trouble. Vehicles to our right turned left in front of us and vice versa. When David made to climb out of the car and try to bring order, we all shouted at him–kindly, of course–to get back in the car, where he was safe! Finally, some concerned and angry drivers left their cars holding belts and stood in the middle of the intersection to direct traffic or else. We carefully pulled through the junction and inched up the road on the other side, which was congested by cars doing U-turns in the middle of the street. What a nightmare!
And somehow we made it to the dinner only ten minutes late! Boy, were we hungry, and the food was spectacular. We feasted on breadsticks with parmesan cheese (which you can’t get here, so it’s a particular delicacy), Caesar salad (which, I’m sure, was also brought in a dressing packet from the States), lasagna, chicken parmesan with spaghetti, pizza, and afterward, brownies with vanilla ice-cream and chocolate sauce. Yum!! And to drink they served ice-cold water and chilled berry juice, plus coffee and tea, and each table was served a bottle of sparkling grape juice. WOW! Each table was decorated with red, white, or green strips of cloth, sprinkled with uncooked pasta, and sported a lit candle in a glass bottle and a vase with an Italian flag, ferms, and roses. The only thing missing was romantic Italian music–which, we heard later, had been planned but wouldn’t play because of the extra-low current that evening. (We also heard that the poor sophomores had been cooking in the kitchen by candlelight!) It was the best Carnival Dinner I’ve been to ever, perhaps, and I’m so proud of my sophomores (and their class sponsors)! Thank you!
The past few months I’ve been experiencing heartburn, but this is altogether different.
My heart goes out to all of my family and friends who are in Southern California. Next to Wheaton, Southern California is the closest thing in the U.S. I have to “home,” and so many of my loved ones live there. I’ve been glad to hear that my host family in Encinitas for the 2005-2006 year are safe, and their house has not been affected by the fires. But so many others have had to flee their homes, and I’m still not sure what the outcome is, or will be. One of the churches that supports my parents has burned down, and the church where my brother-in-law grew up has also burned down.
Honestly, a selfish part of me is glad to be here during this crisis, far away from all the destruction and pain. I heard so much about the 2003 San Diego fires while I lived in San Diego, and all the talk scared me. I thank God I live in a place without any such natural disasters. (Instead we have malaria, meningitis, cholera, typhoid, and HIV.) But I do love southern California in many ways, and inside me, I am weeping for my kauye, my village. Please remember my family and friends in your prayers.
Yesterday I was the “guest of honour” at Baby Kes’ baby shower, and I’m still overwhelmed by the love and gifts showered upon Kes and me. My friends and family had organised a cross-continents shower, with gifts coming from as far away as Korea. Wow!!
The funniest part of the shower–not funny “haha” necessarily–was that it was in the same place, attended by many of the same people, as had been my bridal shower almost exactly a year earlier! They pronounced me a good Nigerian wife for giving my husband a baby within a year of our wedding, and we all laughed (though I was embarrassed by this public pronouncement).
The shower attendees were even more international than the gifts, coming from the U.S., Canada, Ireland, France, New Zealand, Nigeria, and India. I hadn’t realised that baby showers were an American thing, but I assured my good Irish friend–who’s getting married in April to a Nigerian man–that we’ll throw her a baby shower when the time comes, even if it’s not cultural! One surprise was seeing my classmate Aaron, who’s just returned to Nigeria after having schooled and lived in the U.S. for seven years. He dropped off his wife and picked her up afterward, so I got to have a nice chat with him.
My “theme,” if you want to call it that, for my baby decor and toys is African animals, and the shower centered around that. The shower started with a game led by a fellow Nigerwife (and my former English teacher). We had a list of animals and had to come up with the different names of their family members: mother, father, baby, and group. Did you know that a group of penguins is called a parade? Or that a mother bear is called a sow? We had lots of fun and learned a lot about how little we know. 
I was overwhelmed by gifts. I loved each and every one (including Pampers and wipes, which are pretty darn expensive here), and I’m thankful to everyone who contributed to make Kes and me feel special! Some of our highlights were:
–a bib that I cross-stitched for a friend’s baby seven years ago, that she returned for my own baby;
–a windchime in the shape of a monkey (excuse me, infant–the name of a baby monkey);
–stuffed animals, especially a fleecy dog and several giraffes (including a purple one);
–a hospital bag full of goodies and necessities for delivery;
–pain-relieving spray (I’m serious!);
–a jungle animals diaper bag;
–two Curious George onesies.
All in all, we had a wonderful time, full of laughs and excitement. And now I’m even more eager to Kes to arrive!
When I first heard in May 2006 that my sister was expecting a baby, I had just learned to crochet. My aunt had bought me a great teaching book and some hooks and yarn, so I thought I’d try my hand at one of the patterns in the book, the Mile-a-Minute Blanket.
Needless to say, as a beginning crocheter, I was not able to crochet a mile a minute.
And finally, almost 18 months later, I have completed the said blanket! Okay, so there was a period of about a year when I didn’t work on it even one stitch. Hey, one gets busy. There’s a lot of things to do. And once my nephew Ethan was born last December, I lost steam, thinking, “Oh great. I’ve missed the boat. Now what?”
But when my sister said a few months ago, “So now that you’re pregnant, are you going to finish that blanket and keep it for your own baby, or are you still going to give it to Ethan?” I cringed. At the time, I was swamped with work. But last week when I had nothing at all to do, and David was on call, I got out my yarn and more-than-half-finished blanket, and set to work.
So Lisa, the blanket is finally finished! And I’m looking for someone who can hand-carry it to the States and put it in the mail for Ethan. A gift for All Saints’ Day or something! I’m humiliated that it’s taken this long, but at least it’s complete. Not the greatest craftsmanship, granted, but I’m still a beginner, so I ask for grace.
Monday was Nigeria’s Independence Day, celebrating 47 years of freedom from British rule. And actually, it was a quiet day. Usually, there are parades and activities going on at the Jos Polo Club, a huge grassy field adjoining our compound. But I didn’t hear anything this year. Or maybe I’ve just become accustomed to the noise and tuned it out.
Mom hosted a brunch for the missionary doctor families on the compound and had 27 out of the invited 28 people come! We feasted on cinnamon rolls, caramel rolls, muffins, fruit, and baked apple French toast. Mm! (Of course, I was feeling really sick for the first hour so missed most of the food.) Afterward all we adults played Apples to Apples and then a few rounds of Dictionary (the generic and original game that became Balderdash). It was a great way to spend a holiday morning!
And the rest of this week has been really slow. I didn’t have any work for ACTS (for various reasons, none of which were in my control), which was a nice break. And the Internet was off all week. So I spent time working on the blanket I started for my nephew Ethan when I first found out he was coming. (He’s now 9 months old!) I’m almost done!
The rains have stopped completely, and we’re still waiting for Alex to come and install our ceiling fans. *sigh* Life goes on. I miss the rains and the cool weather–and collecting water in our big containers. Now we’ll have to struggle to keep up our water supply. At least it isn’t really dry yet.
Still no news about the green card… We’re learning to be patient.
Oh, and Mom’s baby got adopted last week; did I mention that? Abigail was adopted Friday, a week ago, by a professor and his wife, who’ve been married something like 13 years and have never been able to have children. We think they’ll take good care of her. Mom’s having a hard time coping, as she always feels these losses more than the rest of us.
I think that’s about it for now!
David and I have now moved all our new furniture into the apartment we’ve been living in for ten months, and we’re really enjoying the change! We cleaned out both of the bedrooms—rediscovering wedding presents we’d forgotten about (you can only use so many sets of dishes at once!)—and set up both beds. I’m still not sure where to put all those extra dishes still in their boxes, but I suppose I’ll find a place. I really wish we had cupboards in the kitchen!
So far this week, the carpenter has come several times to fix our bed, which is just slightly too small for the mattress but somehow fits it anyway; put a new lock on our front door (which we just did a few months ago) because the key had broken in the lock; and repair our curtain rod in the living room, the bracket of which had come out of the wall. (Our walls are made of pseudo-brick and crumble far too easily. Anything heavy set on a nail just pulls the nail/screw right out of the wall, breaking the wall with it!)
Today the electrician, Alex, came to assess our electrical problems—the ones we’d been ignoring for months since we thought we’d be leaving soon anyway. These include (4) burned out incandescent lights that will probably need new sockets, (3) burned out fluorescent lights, and (4) burned out electrical outlets. And he’s going to install ceiling fans in our bedrooms. Yes!
As I write this, David is in town getting cable to hang up curtains in our bedroom windows, which right now just have sheets draped over the top louvers, and our toilet and bath rooms. I’ve hung up our new drapes in the living room—at least on the one curtain rod that wasn’t broken. (We had sheers hanging before, and they were beautiful, but they weren’t very private, and the morning sun poured into the living room, making it an oven all day.)
Our fridge is a wonder, and I am thankful for the investment we made in it! No more spending hours chipping away ice so that we can get the freezer open—or shut!
And now that we have a hutch for our dishes, we have space on the bookshelf (the dishes’ last home) for all of David’s books that have been sitting on the floor of our bedroom for the past ten months. The room looks so much less cluttered now!
Although we still have no running water nor any hope of every having any, our friend gave us a large water container (about the size of a curbside trash can in the U.S.), so we’re hoping to make it through the dry season without too much trouble this year.
So now that we’ve decided to stay here, and the repairs are underway, this house is beginning to feel more like home. We still need to do something about shelves and cupboards in the kitchen, and I’m hoping to get some baby things for the other bedroom, but all in all, I’m happy with the progress we’ve made this week!
Photos of our flat will be on Flickr by the end of today! (My handle is SaralynnNG.)
This week, one of my best friends came out of the closet.
This has never happened to me before, and I’m perplexed. I’ve already written a response–one that I hope was full of encouragement but clearly stated my views–but am left feeling bewildered, frustrated, and more than a little heavy-hearted.
I know some people believe they are born with an attraction to the same sex. And I can’t deny it is probably true that some people are born that way. It’s “natural”… in the same way that it’s natural for teenage boys to want to “conquer” pretty girls. Sexuality is a natural instinct. I know that. I’m not saying it isn’t. But just like a boy’s lust must be controlled–and a man’s lust for women apart from his wife–I believe homosexual feelings must be controlled, too. I don’t pretend to think it’s easy. But it’s one of those things that must be done if you love Christ–the same way I have to give up being selfish and complaining. (Still working on that!)
I know that what I’m saying goes against all American teaching about tolerance and relativity. Maybe it will make me a few enemies. But I hope my friend is not among them. I’m a sinner, just like the rest of the world. I can’t condemn anyone. It’s not my place or my right, and I don’t want to have that role. But I can’t just pretend I accept homosexuality, either. I believe the Bible is pretty clear on the subject.
So please pray for me, and especially for my friend.
I just got back from spending five days at Miango for our writers’ workshop, and boy, am I glad to be home! It was good but exhausting. We did have hot water and power almost the whole time, so I got to take a few hot showers… Granted, they were “squatting” showers because we had a tub with a hand-held shower fixture rather than an actual shower. *sigh* Oh well. I can’t complain. But I certainly did not get much rest. I feel like a walking zombie. And it was really hot, at least for me with my little internal heater burning me up! The good thing is that we have first drafts now for all 52 of our year 1 lessons! Yay! We also had some really interesting and intense conversations about our lessons, including an hour-long discussion on “dating.” But I don’t want to get started on that topic. Nosiree.
It was really a time of spiritual attack, though. I know I mentioend before I left that two of our key Joint Project staff had losses in their families. Well, I didn’t know all the details, and I want you to know them.
We have a small staff at Joint Project. There are three full-time workers, and three of us who are more part-time, plus our chairman/CEO. So that’s seven. About two weeks ago, our office manager Rev. Nore contacted Adena to tell her that his mother had died. (She’d just been diagnosed with TB) So Nore traveled that week to bury his mother. When he returned, about a week ago, he received a call from his wife, who had gone to her hometown to care for her mother (who had recently had a stroke). Nore’s wife told him that her mother had just died. So Nore traveled to be with his wife and bury his mother-in-law.
That’s not all.
The same week that Nore lost his mother, our chairman, Jonathan, called to say that his uncle had passed away, and that he would be spending time with his family and attending the burial down south. Just after the burial, he called to say that his uncle’s sister-in-law had been killed in a car accident on her way back from the burial.
It was awful. THEN on Monday, one of our writers didn’t know up, and he called to inform us that his nephew had been killed, so he needed an extra day to be with his family. On Tuesday, Adena got a call that her son had been injured playing soccer at school. It wasn’t serious, but still. And on Thursday morning, another of our writers, Mercy, told us that she had just found out one of her dear friends and mentors had died suddenly of a heart-attack in her late thirties.
So we really felt under attack. You can imagine.
And then I chose to write the lesson entitled, “Why Does God Allow People to Suffer?” It truly was a growing experience, reading what others have written–especially Dr. Dobson–and praying through the thoughts in my head. I came to the conclusion that we’re asking the wrong question. Instead of asking why God allows us to suffer, we should ask how we should respond to suffering. We are so tiny and insignificant. It’s totally arrogant to think we should be able to understand God, or that He owes us an explanation! As Dr. Dobson put it, it’s like an amoeba trying to understand a human. I think people here in Nigeria, who face death daily (literally) have a much healthier grasp on who God is and who we are in comparison.
Anyway, I learned a lot. But I’m SO glad to be home. Tomorrow we’re hoping to move our furniture into our house at Evangel, and start sprucing the place up, including putting up drapes in the living room to make it more private. Yes! Oh, and I look forward to sleeping tomorrow!
This afternoon I’m going out to Miango (the village in which I was married last year) for a five-day writers’ workshop put on by my organisation, Joint Project for Sunday School Materials. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve been dreading it for over a month. I’ll have to give a presentation on self-editing, plus a devotional, and I hate public speaking. Granted, it’s a small group, but still. The worst part is that both our CEO and our office-manager-and-boss lost relatives this past week so will be unable to attend the workshop. Obviously, I’m grieved that they had deaths in their families. At the same time, I’m anxious because their absence will mean much more work for those of us remaining. *sigh* We’ll manage somehow. We have some strikes against us already, but I’m confident that God is in the midst of all this, so we will succeed, as long we keep our focus on him. I’m hoping it will be a good week, that we’ll all learn something, and that we can get our lessons written. The aim of this workshop is to write Sunday school lessons for Book 1 of our new teen curriculum. That’s 52 lessons, all of which we’ve planned ahead of time as far as objectives, themes, and Bible passages.
But I’ve never written a Sunday school lesson before in my life, so this is a totally new experience for me. And it’s scary.
The nice thing about Miango is that it’s a retreat centre. It will be quiet, probably a little cooler than Jos, and we’ll get three full meals a day. And I’m also hoping for reliable power and maybe even running water! It will be nice to take a shower. (Last time I was at Miango, I had no hot water! And although we have a shower stall in our house, there’s never any water with which to take a shower.)
I just wish David could come with me.
So I’ll be gone this week, not posting unless I can sneak an hour into the Internet cafe there. Wish me luck!
