Nikki in Nigeria

Coming Home

2008-04-07T07:41:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been an emotional couple of days, and I'm anticipating another couple ahead. Tomorrow afternoon I'll leave Jos, spend a day in Abuja and take off to London on the morning of the 10th. Dr. Chris will be leaving to the US on Wednesday, hence the reason I'll have an extra day in Abjua.

I'm feeling a bit deer in the headlights; totally excited about going home and super sad about leaving my friends and family here. Mixed bag for sure.

More thoughts and reflections to come...

Update

2008-03-26T11:37:00.000-07:00

I don’t know if it’s been writers block, or just a semi-unconscious way of shutting down in preparation for my departure. Whatever the reason, let this serve as my best attempt at breaking the silence.

First, I’ll start with a peanut butter project update: the oven was delivered to the Nutrition Unit yesterday, four hours after the guy said he would be there, only to find it was too big to fit though the door. You might ask what one does in a situation such as this. Well, I don’t know about other places, but here you break down the door and the surrounding concrete wall with a sledge hammer, naturally. The wash area was “completed” last week. However, the mason’s idea of complete and our idea of complete differ slightly. And when I say slightly I mean greatly. That said, there’s more work to be done on that front before we call it good. And we can now add on to that list, reconstructing the gapping hole that once served as door. Along side all this, still waiting for the power authority to come out and pull down another line (what all that involves, I’m not exactly sure) so we can run all the equipment in the unit. Also needed to find a couple volunteers to train to do initial production for the study, and get a certification from the Nigerian version of the FDA. Suffice to say there’s quite a bit that needs to happen before we actually start making the peanut butter paste, but it’s all in the name of progress nonetheless.

As for me, I’m just using these last weeks to soak up the presence of people I’ve come to love and respect so much. That’s about all I’ve got.

Peanut Butter Part Two

2008-03-10T13:06:00.000-07:00

Back in October I wrote a post about a peanut butter project Faith Alive had been working on; to date we have all the equipment needed to start basic production-oven (buying this week sometime), grinder, mixer, scale, etc. All of last week Stephen and I worked along side Julie and Krysty, two women running the project, to sort out logistics and other loose ends that have been keeping things from proceeding thus far.

This week will be more of the same, organizing, coordinating, sorting out details of the study, etc.. We’re hoping by the end of next week we’ll be ready to start production of the fortified peanut butter paste. Once productions starts, we’ll need to get a temporary certification from the Nigerian equivalent of the FDA. Once we have that we can take our study proposal to five local hospitals to do a trial with fifty clinically malnourished children. We hope to generate results close to Dr. Manary’s studies; that is an 80% success rate with children fully recovering after a period of six weeks. Our study will run for a total of two months, at the end of which we hope to produce the peanut butter product en mass.

On a separate but related note, if you’re interested more stories/experiences from Faith Alive, check out Stephen’s blog at: http://stephen_gire.typepad.com/nigeria/ Lot’s of great pics and stories to add to anything I’ve been able to convey.

Ghana-Must-Go-Go

2008-03-05T10:35:00.000-08:00

Back in the 80's (1983 to be exact) the government of Nigeria forced over 800,000 Ghanaians out of this country, sending them back to Ghana. In the mad rush to get out of town, these one of a kind bags adopted the name "Ghana-must-go".
This discovery came to me one afternoon while I was hanging out in Blessing's shop. Some of her students were going through a large bag, almost identical to the photo on the left, pulling out bits of usable material scraps. Just a couple days prior I was thinking of all the stuff I would be bringing back, not knowing if I would have enough room in my suitcase. In passing I mentioned I might need to get a bag like that when we next went to the market. "Ghana-must-go?" she said. Ghana must what? "Ghana-must-go" she said again. I laughed. You're not serious. That's what they're called? "Yeah" Why? "Because the Ghanaians had to go." she replied matter of factly. Ah. Well, then, there it is. I guess I'll be going with Ghana-must-go.

Some More Thoughts

2008-02-27T10:19:00.000-08:00

This is part of an e-mail from Erika, one of several who came to visit Faith Alive in January/February; adding more to the conversation concerning balance:

“I'm wrestling with some of the same things, and here's where I am today. It's so okay to not be perfect, but to take steps toward improving. Example: I don't want to be a total environmentalist -- but I will make sure to use less paper. I don’t want to be a self-sacrificing fanatic by selling all my stuff and not having anything for myself -- but I will try to balance that so when I indulge in a luxury that I'll spend the same amount of time and money for others...does that make sense? I think there's almost a self-righteousness, even a sinful nature, to trying to do everything right. That said, we're not called to stop at that thought and not try to do anything right. I'm praying for God to continue to reveal what's mine to do, and what's not. What's mine to give away, and what's mine to enjoy. Just on a daily basis, situation by situation. I don't want to get trapped in something like 'survivors guilt' -- or being a rich American while others are starving sort of guilt paralysis. After all, what we do or don't do for others isn't going to make a big dent in the world -- God's primary care is that we stay in close relationship with Jesus, right? Anyway, just some of my ramblings..."

Mother Teresa

2008-02-27T10:12:00.000-08:00

"We cannot do great things on this Earth, only small things with great love." She also said: "I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."

Exposed

2008-02-26T10:05:00.000-08:00

Just for the record, I don’t feel super comfortable sharing some of my inner most thoughts with heaven knows how many people. And yet something inside me says to do it anyways. So here goes…

I was listening to this great song by Nichole Nordeman called “Brave” this morning. Here are a few of my favorite lines:

The gate is wide
The road is paved to moderation
The crowd is kind and quick to pull you in
Welcome to the middle ground
It's safe and sound and
Until now it's where I've been
Cuz it's been fear
That ties me down to everything
But it's been love, Your love
That cuts the strings
So long, status quo
I think I've just let go
You make me wanna be brave
The way it always was
It's no longer good enough
You make me wanna be brave
I am small
And I speak when I'm spoken to
But I am willing to risk it all
To say Your name
Just Your name, and I'm ready to go
Even ready to fall

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve blasted this song, windows down, singing at the top of my lungs. There’s something that rings so true; there’s a recognition of how easy it is to blend in. And at the same time there is a realization that things can be different. I need only step outside the crowd and say, I don’t want to go along with it any more. I want to be brave. And yet like most things, it’s easier said than done.

A couple lines from another favorite by Relient K entitled, “For the Moments I Feel Faint” go like this:

Am I at the point of no improvement?
What of the death I still dwell in?
I try to excel, but I feel no movement.
Can I be free of this unreleasable sin?

Never underestimate my Jesus.
You're telling me that there's no hope.
I'm telling you your wrong.

Never underestimate my Jesus
When the world around you crumbles
He will be strong, He will be strong

I throw up my hands
"Oh, the impossibilities"
Frustrated and tired
Where do I go from here?
Now I'm searching for the confidence I've lost so willingly
Overcoming these obstacles is overcoming my fear

For me personally, I don’t think I’m searching for a confidence lost as much as confidence at last.

Confidence I’m loved just as I am.

Confidence in myself to say ‘yes’ some of the time and ‘no’ others.

Confidence happiness does not come from things.

Of course I know all this conceptually…it’s my heart that needs to do the catching up.

Overcoming these obstacles is not, for me, overcoming a fear of failure, it’s a fear of success. Sounds silly doesn’t it? Because then what? What happens when I do the hard, ugly, messy self work?

The chains just might be broken. I might just feel free. (Is it ironic that I’m listening to “Free Fallin” by Tom Petty right now?)

I believe in balance; I don’t think it’s at all inappropriate to treat myself now and then, even splurge on occasion. My battle is drawing the line in the sand between once and a while and a way of life. To employ wisdom with each situation versus living by hard and fast rules. Which by the way is so much more difficult than it sounds. Sometimes I envy the early Jewish community-they had it all laid out before them, right down to how to plant the fields and what sort of cloth to wear. In some ways it would be so much easier to have it all in black and white. Yes, going out to diner two times a week is okay but three is too many. Or, one pair of earrings, yes. Three, no.

I celebrate this journey. No one is going to get it right one hundred percent of the time, I know. Keeping that in mind, I don’t feel like that gives me permission to sit back and coast either. I’ll succeed and I’ll fail. This is just one of many attempts to examine the dark rooms of my soul, shine the light and have a look around.

At the end of the day I know I am loved despite my imperfections, and at the same time I seek to live the way of Jesus, who lived perfectly. Aren’t paradoxes great?

And so it goes…one day at a time, one foot in front of the other.

Paralyzed

2008-02-25T10:09:00.000-08:00

I know it’s still six weeks away, but I’m already feeling the pressures and anxieties of returning home. It’s a hybrid of excitement and hesitation to re-enter a world and a way of life which seems so foreign. Life is pretty simple here. I don’t drive, I barely make use of the cell phone I have and “going out” doesn’t extend much beyond the clinic, church and occasional the market excursion. Add onto that, I’ve been living on $100 a month, most of which is given to others. When I started thinking about itemized expenses I’ll need to attend to upon my return: cell phone, car, car insurance, gas, credit card, application fees, food, etcetera, I felt a little deer in the headlights.

It’s quite possible I’m thinking about all of this way too soon and it just might be better if I stayed in the here and now. But it’s going to come up eventually. And as I see it there’s no preferred or convenient time to work through this stuff. No better time than the present, right?

The problem I face is not so much about having money to pay for said items, as it is parting with money, period. Thinking about how little one needs to live here contrasted with how much it takes to live there has my stomach in knots. They’re what I used to refer to as “basic expenses”, those things that keep me in the race with everyone else. I would hear people, including myself, talk about how disgusting our consumer driven society is and yet, in the same breath fail to recognize we are the consumers of that phrase. It’s much easier to blame a nameless, faceless system. We talk about how heart breaking it is that one third of the world lives on less than a two dollars a day and then in the same breath (if you’re me) think about when you’re due for your next upgrade on your phone. I might felt a little guilty at first, but hey, at least I have a Razor…and I feel cool. Everyone has to have a cell phone, right? And everyone has to have a car. How many people do you know who don’t have a computer and the internet? These things are not even questioned; it’s assumed everyone in “this day and age” has the staples, the “basics”. Whereas in the majority of the world it’s simply not so.

And that’s just one side of this ugly coin. There’s a whole other conversation when you start to think about how much we spend on entertainment, recreation and leisure. I’ve noticed in my own life such expenditures usually follow the statement, “We should get together…” immediately followed by, “What do you want to do?” as if spending time with people automatically implies spending money. Oh, I don’t know, let’s see a movie. Or, let’s grab dinner later. Or, how about we go for coffee?

There’s so much pressure to keep up this pace and it’s exhausting. Makes me anxious just thinking about it.

Gandhi in all his wisdom once said, “We must be the change we seek”. It’s warm and fuzzy in theory but it reality it’s like going to battle. It’s totally uphill when you think about all that influences you. First, there’s the radio, which of course has all the latest new songs, which (again if you’re me) causes you to take mental pause to remember to look that up later and download it from iTunes. I mere ninety-nine cents a song is all; keeping in mind that was half a child’s income for the day in a sweatshop in India. Then later when you turn on the tv, you’re reminded of the 352 ways to spend your time aside from watching the show you’ve tuned in for. Go see that new movie that’s coming out. Swing by Red Lobster for that sizzling new deal on jumbo shrimp. Go to the mall and check out the Big Red Sale going on now only at JC Penny’s. And if that’s not bad enough, we’re walking advertisements to each other. Hey where’d you get that cute sweater? Oh, got it on sale at Target. And what about those earrings? Well, there’s this cute little shop downtown…

Yes friends, I’m paralyzed. There are so many things I’m excited for, namely being able spend time with (via phone or in the flesh) my favorite people and yet there are so many things about going back that cause me to pause and say, gross. How do I reconcile these two worlds? I’m not even home yet and I already feel the pressures of playing the part. I don’t want to be one of five fish swimming up stream. Why? Because it’s hard work! And let’s be honest, it’s much easier to just give in and go with the flow. Not saying I will, not saying I won’t, I’m just sayin…only time will tell.

What $100 Can D0

2008-02-23T02:11:00.000-08:00

I watched a couple surgeries the other day. Dr. Akwaras had come to me earlier that week and told me about a woman he met during a consultation who needed to have her appendix removed. When the group from my church came over they brought with them some monetary donations from some friends of mine. I told Dr. Akwaras shortly there after to keep his eyes out for ways the money could go to good use, knowing there were more than enough people who needed such help. This particular case was $100. Dr. Akwaras doesn’t charge any surgeon fees, so the money strictly covers the costs of the OR, utensils and drugs, both anesthesia and post op. Most times Dr. Akwaras, in addition to providing his services free of charge, will pay the hospital fees etcetera out of his own pocket. Amazing isn’t it?

The ‘hospital’ was on the ground floor of what looked like a strip mall off the street. The operating room was something else, like we were walking into an abandoned warehouse, but it was actually the OR. Sanitary is certainly not the first word that came to mind. More like, seriously? A couple of mosquitoes buzzing overhead. Two of four fluorescents flickering above us. An operating table that looked like something straight out of a MASH episode, complete with wooden slats inserted on either side of the table for the patient’s arms to rest on. Which by the way didn’t do a whole lot of good after the patient had her anesthesia, they were flopping all over the place. Her OR gown, was a dark forest green, with a couple of holes here and there. There is very little use of “disposable items” such as paper gowns here. They can’t afford such luxuries. Only the basics. The mask I was wearing smelled like it had been sitting in a dust pile for heaven knows how long. The instruments came wrapped in checkered cloth with masking tape wrapped around it. At one point in the middle of the surgery the lights went out. Can you imagine? Laying on an operating table and boom, power’s out. “Hold that thought doctor, shouldn’t be long before we get the generator going…” Incredible. All that to say it was quite an experience. And yet the job was done and done well. Without the fancy equipment, the monitors, the team of doctors and nurses. Even without light at one point. It’s not that these things wouldn’t be nice to have, I’m sure they would jump at the chance to update their archaic equipment. But at the end of the day surgeries need to be done. A lot of them actually. So what do you do? You do the best with what you have and pray God takes care of the rest.

Getting Close

2008-02-21T10:51:00.000-08:00

Or at least it feels like it’s getting close. One of my best good friends, Stephen will be coming out the 2^nd of March staying until the 10^th of April, also the day I’ll be leaving, just incase anyone was wondering…

So as I said before, I’m “teaching computer” which in all actually means I teach typing. I would say over 90% (and I’m being generous) of people at Faith Alive don’t know how to type. A fun little factoid about me: I HATED typing as a kid. I hated typing class, I hated typing exercises, I hated everything that had to do with typing. And now I’m teaching it. Talk about your ironic circumstances.

So anyways, I went to meet my first appointment of the morning at 10:00 sharp. It was only hour later that realized she wasn’t coming. Checked on her later that day, she got caught up doing something else and forgot about it. No problem I thought, I got some nice reading in (I’ve smartened up from previous no-show experiences) At 11:30 when I hadn’t seen the next person who was scheduled I thought, the heck with it, I’m leaving. On my way out I ran into him. “Oh, was that this morning? I thought it was in the after noon.” No no, it was this morning. I’ve discovered there’s a lot of initial excitement about learning computer/typing, but not a lot in the way of follow through. There have been a handful that have come as scheduled, but most my experiences have looked something like my morning.

So, after all that I decided I would do something ‘productive’ and swing by Blessing’s shop and have her walk me to the market to return a faulty DVD. I wasn’t expecting super high quality it was $4 after all. On the way to the market, there’s this street that’s lined with wagons and makeshift tables and carts over flowing with pirated, I mean, totally legal and legitimately made, DVD’s. The guy who sold it to me said I could bring it back to him if it didn’t work. This was after a very long and extensive conversation about why I had doubts the cover with Chinese symbols was going to play in English. Turns out the guy “wasn’t around”, at least that’s what the guys standing next to his booth said, “You can come back tomorrow” You bet I will. At least I got a nice walk out of the deal. You see all sorts of interesting things on foot that you might miss from a car window. But mostly you’re dodging cars and motor bikes. Number one, there seems to be no official rules of the road, or none that are closely followed anyway. Number two, they just don’t look where they’re going. I’ve had some pretty close calls with both car and motorbike alike.

Post lunch I had two more appointments back at the clinic. I had seen both of them earlier in the morning so I was feeling pretty confident they wouldn’t be standing me up. Sure enough, at exactly the stroke of 2:00 Dauda was waiting for me, all smiles. And then an hour after that, there was good ‘ol Alex, who, by the way, has never touched a computer in his life. I’ve been doing a lot of deep breathing with that one. Until next time, A-S-D-F-G space, H-J-K-L-; space.

It's Been a While

2008-02-08T09:22:00.000-08:00

As many of you may already know, a group of eight (plus a few others) from my church were in Jos the last week and a half. There aren’t enough words to say what a much needed visit it was. Seriously. For the last couple of days I’ve been adjusting back into life in Jos sans peeps. I knew it was going to be hard, just not this hard.

Yesterday I started helping out at a special needs school not too far from Faith Alive called Open Doors, working with kids who have disabilities. One of the gals on the team was/is an occupational therapist and worked on a handful of the kids out there. I shadowed her for a couple days, got a crash course in child development and BAM! I’m now serving as a stand-in OT. Let’s just talk about how much patience is required to work with kids in general, and then you add on to that kids with disabilities.

When I’m not at Open Doors I’m going to be doing computer training with the staff at the clinic. With the long term goal to go electronic, it’s no surprise beefing up computer competency amongst the staff is at the top of the priority list. I don’t consider myself a computer guru by any means, but with most people I’m literally saying, “This is a mouse; this is what it means to double click; this is how you save a document, this is how you create a folder; etc.” For others it’s a little more advanced, like “This is Google, this is how you perform a search” Hmmm, yet another lesson in patience. Is God trying to tell me something?

Couple of Things

2008-01-25T10:13:00.000-08:00

First, I love holding babies. This is true of any baby, but I've just recently found I'm particularly fond of African babies. I could do it for hours, seriously. Especially this one little girl, she's two months old. One of the sewing students babies, ah, so cute, you don't even know. Second, I've made some head way with the kids who call at me everyday from the street, Ouybo! (white person) Now they say, "Nikki". Well not all of them, but some, and let me tell you, it makes me feel warm fuzz on the inside. It's like now, I'm more than just the random tall white girl they see every day, I have a name, and it's personal . I'm trying, although not very successfully, to learn their names. Of course they're all traditional which makes it ten times more difficult to pronounce let alone remember. Lastly, the girls in the sewing shop have been helping learn Hausa. It's a slow grueling process, but they've been so patient and persistent with me. Every once and a while I'll say something that makes sense. The rest of the time it just mumbo jumbo. They tend to have a good laugh, either way.
Sunday a group of peeps from my church arrive, really excited about it, needless to say. Time is flying, hard to believe it's the end of January already. Which by the way means I've been here for a total of four months! Woo hoo!

Holy Dust Batman

2008-01-20T09:49:00.000-08:00

I was aware of the dust factor when I first arrived, but seriously? I swear it's a thousand times worse. As in, I wiped down the dust yesterday, tables, chairs, headboard, etc. And this morning it looked like a sandstorm came through over night. And it's not just the furnishings, it's my clothes, my sheets, my bedspread, the curtains, everything! It's doing a number on my allergies, that's for sure. And on another note, I've suddenly become aware of the unwelcome changes in my skin. "Dry" does not even begin to describe, it's sort of like, rhino meets reptile. It's not cute folks. I've given up on trying to keep my feet clean. One trip to the clinic and back and my feet look like they've been doused with dirt and mashed with mud. Then add to that just a thin thin layer of dust that coats everything else, legs, feet, arms, etc. Not exactly glamorous. I think I took a bucket bath three days ago. Yeah, something like that. I attempted it yesterday, but the air was so cold I only got as far as washing my feet. Think of it like this: a fall morning in Colorado, except that's the temperature inside the bathroom. Cut to, bucket of steaming water staring up at your from a cold porclin tub. It's not exactly inviting. I had goosebumps from head to toe just from soaking my feet. The thought of pouring water over my body in such crisp conditions was more than I could bear. Mornings have become quite chilly, at first a welcome change to the swealtering heat. But now, sort of a nuisance with the whole bath factor in mind. Having said all that, I'm still greatful to be able to bathe indoors, many don't have such a luxury. I'm thankful that I have water to bathe with, and a stove to boil water on. There's been a strike at some level of the government which has somehow caused a water shortage in and around Jos. I haven't been affected to badly, but I know many others that have. Count your blessings, right?

Food for Thought

2008-01-19T10:57:00.000-08:00

Last week I was observing in VTC (voluntary testing and counseling), essentially the place where they test for HIV. The process looks a little something like this: person X sits down with one of three counselors, they collect some basic info and ask them why they’re there. Most people respond with “to do a test”, to which the counselor says, “what kind of test?” Once it’s clear they’re there for an HIV test the process continues. The counselor explains very briefly what HIV is, in that it’s a virus, not a disease, and it attacks the body’s defense system. They use this analogy: We have soldiers in our body that fight infections; HIV attacks and kills our soldiers. When the body doesn’t have it’s soldiers, it has a hard time fighting diseases and infection. They explain how HIV is contracted, through human fluid or blood. They further explain what that means; HIV can be passed from a positive mother to her child during pregnancy, through unprotected sex, blood transfusions that have not been properly screened and sharps that have not been properly sterilized such as blades and scissors from barber shops. Side bar on that, it’s very common for men to go to a barber to have a shave. And when I say shave, I mean old school, single blade shave. There are many cultural misconceptions about what HIV is and how you get it. For instance, some people believe it’s a curse caused by evil spirits and spells, while others believe it’s a disease that can be contracted like the common cold. There are so many people who are shunned from their families and communities when they become aware of their status. It’s for this reason, some people would rather not know than live in potential isolation and shame. Some who do learn of their status will go so far as to keep it from their marital partner, afraid they will leave them if they find out. So anywho, they go through this informational session and then are sent around the corner to do a rapid test. About fifteen minutes later the results are out and they return to the counselor, who then delivers the news, positive or negative. If it’s positive they’re sent to the clinic’s main building to do a second confirmation test. Sometimes the rapid test will show a positive result when it is actually negative; these cases are pretty rare, but it can happen. If it’s negative they will tell them to return in six months to take a second test, allowing for the “window period” in which HIV can develop.
So anyways, there was this one woman who had her baby with her, still breastfeeding. Actually she was feeding her while was being counseled. Also really common, women will fully whip out their breast in the middle of a conversation, a doctor consultation, in the waiting room, on the street, in the market, just about anywhere. They were speaking in Hausa so I was catching the translation in bits, but basically her daughter is a year and a half, the mother didn’t know her status when she was pregnant and has been breastfeeding since birth. Cut to the diddy about HIV, what it is, how you can get it and she was off to do the test. When she came back to the room, she handed him the folded piece of paper that had a big black stamp that read “HIV positive”. The counselor then advised her to have the baby tested. Again, she came back with a folded slip of paper, and it read “HIV positive”. I could have cried right then and there. I was looking at a beautiful baby girl, not even two years old, and HIV positive. It was totally surreal. How could this be? It’s just not fair! I wasn’t quite sure how to sift through the relentless waves of emotion, one right after the next. It was inconceivable. Later that day I did an inquiry and found out that at Faith Alive alone, there are over 200 children receiving ARV drugs. Children with HIV. The words ‘cruel’ and ‘unjust’ come to mind, but even that doesn’t seem to capture the gravity of how I feel about this said reality.
MTCT (Mother To Child Transmission) can happen at several different stages.
It’s possible transmission can occur in the womb, during delivery and/or through breast milk. If no precautions are taken, there is a 45% chance the baby will be infected with HIV. If a mother is aware of her HIV status and is taking ARV drugs during her pregnancy, the baby’s chances of contracting HIV are significantly reduced. There are special birth attendants, trained in a particular delivery procedure that can then reduce the chance of transmission during birth. Just by eliminating breastfeeding and substituting strictly with formula, the chances of the child contracting HIV is reduced to 30%. If all the above precautions are taken there is only a 2% chance the baby will contract HIV from her mother. So, what are the challenges? Well, number one, the mother must know her status. If a mother is pregnant and knows her status she is automatically placed on ARV drugs. Okay, so let’s say a mother knows her status, now she needs to be receiving pre-natal care and counseling on the advantages of using a trained birth attendant. This in and of it’s self is a huge battle. Many women don’t go to the hospital to have their child let alone get pre-natal care. Cost of medical care and transport to and from the hospital are just a few of the obstacles. But let’s just say for the sake of example, she knows about Faith Alive and gets hooked up with pre-natal are and a trained birth attendant. Now we move into the issues associated with formula feeding. Number one, it’s not widely accepted, and by that I mean culturally. Many husbands and extended family members will pressure a woman to breast feed, because it’s just what you do. There’s ‘no reason’ not to. Then add to that the cultural sigma of HIV and you have pressures coming at you from every direction. Okay, so let’s say she can get beyond that, her family is aware of her status, and is supportive of her formula feeding. Now we’re looking at cost. One tin of formula is about 700 Naira. That’s approximately six dollars. If exclusively breastfeeding, she will need to buy about 8 tins a month. That’s 5,600 Naira. Minimum wage in Nigeria is 5,000 Naira, and most people don’t even get that. The challenge here is obvious. The problem has no easy solution. And the children suffer.

Medical Records

2008-01-14T02:16:00.000-08:00

It occurred to me recently that I haven’t talked much about the work I’ve been doing at the clinic. For those who have been curious (thanks for the reminder grams) here’s the 411:
The last, oh, three or four weeks, I’ve adopted a project of sorts in medical records. To understand what I’ve been doing you’ll need to know a little bit about the place and how it works. Every patient that comes through Faith Alive, either receiving ARV’s (Anti-Retro-Viral’s) for HIV or those coming for treatment of the common cold (malaria, typhoid, etc.) has is file with their name and hospital number. Every morning when patients line up outside the clinic, their name goes on a list (first come first serve) to be seen by the doctors. If they’ve been here before they have a hand card that has their name and corresponding hospital number for the medical record staff to locate retrieve their file.
Now, if a patient loses their hand card medical records has essentially lost their ability to locate their file. Or have they?
There was/is a system in place to curtail such a predicament, however it hasn’t exactly been maintained. With each file there is supposed to be a small index card with the patient name and hospital number. These cards are to be filed in drawers alphabetically, so that, in the event a hand card is lost, medical records staff can easily look up their name and thereby locate their hospital number. Sounds logical, right?
Well here’s the thing, these cards that are supposed to be neatly alphabetized and organized in their little card catalog like drawers have, to date, been living in one of two places: a box on the floor or in rubber banded stacks inside the drawers. The work, no doubt, of volunteers before me.
And just so ya know, there’s about 8,000 files in medical records. Which means if staff have been following due process and creating a little blue card for every file, there should be something like 8,000 cards to alphabetize and organize. And it doesn’t stop there. Turns out the cards are too big to fit into drawers, so after I’m finished with the alphabetizing, I’ll be cutting, 8,000 little cards. How jealous are you? Seriously…
Right, so with that said, here’s where I’m at in the process:
Step one: Gather up all blue cards and start sorting by first letter. Check.
Step two: Alphabetize by letter. Nineteen down, seven to go.
Step three: Cut cards to size. Pending completion of step two.
Step four: Pray someone maintains the system after I’m done.
When I’m not working on step two, I’m usually in medical records either pulling files for the morning clinic or helping the staff post files back in the afternoon. So that’s work in a nutshell. Any questions?

What Would Jesus Do?

2008-01-13T10:00:00.000-08:00

A child, his face sunken and emciated, teeth missing from his smile. His body, a pile of small mangled, deformed bones, birth defect or disability, difficult to know.

A woman, late 60's, crawling on her hands and knees. Old t-shirts wrapped around her knees to somehow protect her knees from scraping agains the gravel streets. Her skirt tattered and torn. Her feet bare, caked and crusted with dirt.

A man, mid 40's, paralyzed from the waist down. He moves around in a seated tricycle powered by his upper body. His face is sullen, his eyes filled with sorrow. A begging bowl sits beneath him, empty.

We've seen the bracelets, the necklaces and the bumper stickers. But what would Jesus do? I don't remember any accounts of Jesus dashing the leapor his spare change. Or dropping a few coins in the blind man's bucket. What did Jesus do? He healed them. He made the blind to see and the crippled to walk. Amazing.

And I understand why like I've never before. Have you seen a crippled boy laying on the street corner? Have you watched a grown woman crawl in the dirt scrounging for scraps? I never had. If I had the ability to heal, believe me I would, in an instant. But since I don't, it begs the question, what do I do? Sure, I can give money, but it dosen't seem like it's enough. I feel so helpless. It's not fair. It's not right. Why him or her and not me? These are questions that cannot fully be answered, but they are questions nonetheless.

The poor. It's easy to forget about them, because we're not. It was easy for me to spend my time on My Space, Facebook and e-mail. It took no effort at all to watch a season (or two) of Friends or Grey's Anatomy in a weekend. When I had nothing better to do I'd wander the aisles of Target, cruise the sale rack at Gap or grab a Starbucks just because. Never giving a thought to what a luxury, no what a privilege, it is to know how to drive much less, own a car. To have the access to constant electricity, to own a tv, to afford cable or to have a job that allows me the great gift of two days off in a week.

It's humbling friends. It's kick you in the stomach, break your heart in a million pieces, cry your eyes out, humbling.

Nelson Mandela

2008-01-11T03:51:00.000-08:00

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

--Nelson Mandela in his inauguration speech in 1994

Hello?

2008-01-11T01:41:00.000-08:00

So last weekend my friend Krysty left her room to go fetch some water. She was gone maybe five minutes. When she got back to her room she noticed her phone was missing. She searched all around but couldn't locate it. She borrowed her neighbors phone to call her number, and a man answered. She asked, "Who are you? Where did you get this phone?" The man said the phone was left in his shop. When she asked where the shop was he hung up. She tried dialing the number again but he had switched it off. What's interesting is no one saw anyone enter into her room, and what's even more fascinating is the fact that there was 600 Naira on the table next to where her phone was, but he only took her phone, not the money.
Later that day she went to the phone shop to block the phone line and salvage her number for when she's able to get a new handset. When she arrived there were over 150 people waiting in line for the same thing! All of whom had their phones stolen recently. The woman at the counter told her this was "light" compared to what it usually is.
The appeal for stealing handsets (cell phones) is for re-sale value. "Used" (which may often turn out to be stolen) handsets are re-sold for more than half what a new phone would cost. You can find handsets such as these in the markets all around Jos. Just another little snippet of life in Nigeria.

Clown Car

2008-01-10T09:02:00.001-08:00

A couple weeks ago I went to church with Blessing. I've told you about the bike situation (the motorbikes) and how I wouldn't touch one with a ten foot pole. Right, so with that said, Blessing said we could take a cab to church. A cab I thought, now that seems reasonable, I can get behind that. Okay, so where do we find such a thing? We just look for one she says. Hm. Okay, let's go look for one. So there we are standing on the side of the road in our Sunday best 'looking' for a cab. What exactly are we looking for, I asked her. She looked at me and smiled, um, I don't know, one will just stop. Finding all this very interesting, I stood faithfully at her side waiting for one to "just stop". Every once and a while she would stick her hand out at her side, a signal of sorts to cab passing by? After about five or so minutes of this clunker of a car pulls over. She negotiates the price of the drop through the window and motions for me to get in. Now, I don't quite know how to describe this said 'vehicle' that we entered, but I'm going to give it my best. First of all of the paneling on the inside of the door was missing, the inside wreaked of gasoline, and the area where the controls would normally be for radio, heat, air etc. was totally gone. Just a big hole showing straight through to metal. There were noises coming from places I'm sure they shouldn't be and other smells that were unidentifiable. I seriously didn't think this thing was going to make it three blocks, let alone three miles. But sure enough, old Bessy got us there, all in one piece. Hallelujah.
After church we went through the same process: standing on the side of the road waving down cars that look like they may be a cab. The best I can tell, you look for the oldest, junkiest, most beat up thing on the road and wave it down. So again, after about 5-10 minutes a car pulls over. Now mind you, the car is full, three in the back, one in the front, and Blessing is negotiating with him as if we're actually going be be getting in. Standing beside her I said, "Um, Blessing, there's no room in this car." She laughed and said, yes, we can fit. Are you serious? Where?! I didn't say that, but that's what I was thinking. So Blessing got in the front, half sitting on a random man's lap and I got in the back, one cheek half wedged between the seat and the door, the other riding up the side of the window, bracing myself for dear life. We went on like that for a mile or so, hit some traffic, which was awesome, and then arrived at our dropping point. I'm guessing most, if not all of the people ridding in the car were estranged to one another, but let me tell you, by the end of it they might as well have been family. Heaven knows I've never been that close to complete strangers before.

Death and Dying

2008-01-05T10:03:00.001-08:00

The first week I was here I visited two women, home bound and dying of AIDS. The images of them will forever be engraved in my mind. To say they were emaciated would be an understatement. They were so weak (and frail) they could barely walk. I'm not at all exaggerating when I say skin on bones. One of the two women died about a month after our visit. The other, Habbibat, I just found out passed away yesterday. Her husband died long ago, he was the one who infected her. Extramarital relationships are very common especially with the Muslim population. She had three children, two of which are currently in school courtesy of Faith Alive scholarships. The oldest, a teenager, is still in the village, uneducated. The worry now is what will happen to the two that are in school. Will they be able to stay with her sister here in Jos? Or will they be sent back to the village? Faith Alive of course is pushing for them to stay here and continue their education. I guess only time will tell.
I've seen and heard about more deaths in these last three months than I have in the last 24 years. Death due to bike accidents, car accidents, AIDS and other illnesses. Makes me realize how much I take for granted.

Can You Hear Me?

2007-12-30T02:07:00.000-08:00

A few weeks back I was sitting outside the clinic, it was the afternoon, and few patients were left inside. A boy (who I later found out was 19) walked up to me with a sign that read he was deaf and was begging to pay his school fees. I didn't have my purse on me at the time and so I tried to asking him in sign if he could wait while I went to get my purse. Who knew I’d be using what little sign language I know in Nigeria? He looked confused, but got the message and a few minutes later I came back with a meager 100 Naira. I told him I was sorry it wasn't much, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact you would have thought I gave him 1,000 Naira from the look on his face. From there we communicated a little bit more through sign and then mostly through writing back and forth. His father died when he was young and his mother still lived in the village. He’s in a special education school in a state not too far from Jos. Somehow the conversation turned to him signing "pain" and pointing to both kidneys. From there I learned he'd been having blood in his urine and pain in his sides. I found out he was HIV positive and hadn't seen a doctor about most recent problem. I told him he needed to come to the clinic the next morning and see a doctor. He must have sat there with me for an hour or two, even after we had stopped talking. As if, he was completely content just sitting there with me, reading and re-reading our written conversation. Some how it made me sad; I wanted to talk more with him. Why didn’t I pay more attention in those sign classes at work? After he left I couldn't stop thinking about him. What sort of life was ahead of him in a country that makes little provisions for the disabled? He begs for his tuition. With a beggar on every street corner I have to wonder how much he actually pulls in and is it enough for him to continue is education? And then what? How will he earn a living? Will he be forced to a life on the streets as so many disabled are?
The following day I had to go to Abuja to change my plane ticket, so I wasn’t around when he came back. But apparently he showed up the next morning with a sign that read “Where is Mikki?” My friend Yemi spotted him and corrected the “M” to a “N” and told him I had traveled. I tried explaining that the day before, but it must not have registered. Anyways, I’m not sure what happened to him. At some point he left the clinic and I haven’t seen him since. I pray provisions will be made for him, wherever he is, whatever he does. It’s strange how your soul can connect with a perfect stranger like that. But there was something about him, something that drew me in and touched me. Such a small exchange, and yet I am forever changed. I see now more than ever the ministry of presence.

Chicken Little

2007-12-27T23:04:00.000-08:00

I had gone to the market with Blessing that afternoon, she bought the fixings for "vegetable soup" which she had been talking about all morning. First she bought fish, which was an experience unto it's own-there's just a pile of frozen fish, like whole fish, head, eyes, skin, bones, the whole enchilada, then a woman who's sitting on what looked like an overturned bucket of sorts. You pick out which one you want, and when I say pick, I mean you're literally handling all the fish to find the one you want. So you have your fish, and then fish lady uses her super machete to chop off the head, slice off the fins and dice it into little steak like pieces. She throws it into a small plastic bag and calls it good. The whole while there's swarms of flies buzzing all over the place. So that happened, and then we went from stand to stand gathering tomatoes, spinach, onion etc. Once she got everything she needed we headed back to her house to drop off the goodies. I think I may have mentioned this before, Blessings "kitchen" is more or less a cement block next to the room she sleeps in. Imagine a cube and remove one side, that's her kitchen. There's a single charcoal burner and a couple of benches with some pots and pans. Finding this totally intriguing I walked over to get a better visual of how all this might work. Like, where do you keep your water? Where do you eat? Where do you chop food? Do you have a cutting board? So anyways I'm rambling on, playing a round of 20 questions when I hear a noise.
"Blessing...what's that?"
"That my chicken."
"Your chicken?"
"Yeah, my students bought me chicken for Christmas."
I turn the corner to find a rooster with one leg tied to a post in the middle of the cube.
"Blessing, there's a chicken in your kitchen."
She laughs. "I know, I feed it every morning."
Rooster crowing
"No but seriously Blessing, there's a chicken in your kitchen."
Still laughing. "Yes, I will fix it when my children come home from village."
"Soooo, when you say 'fit it' you're going to kill it yourself? Like, right here?"
"Yes."
"But, how do you, I don't, where do you..."
I couldn't even get the words out. It was so far beyond my ability to understand at that time, I was speechless. I asked her about the process in detail later after I had some time to compose myself. Turns out she's never actually done this before, slaughtering a chicken. But she has seen in done in the village...so I guess that's all the training one needs?

"Live Simply...

2007-12-19T01:24:00.000-08:00

...that others might simply live." I don't remember where I read that, but I've adopted it as my motto. Meet Ahmed, a man in his mid 40's with a wife and five kids. Ahmed has an extra-cranial tumor that's been growing on the back of his head for over ten years; it's a little larger than a grapefruit. Because of the positioning of the tumor, sores have started started to develop, they break open and scab as the tumor continues to grow in size. Can you even imagine what his life might be like? Ashamed, embarrassed, depressed...He always wears an over sized hat to cover it up, keep people from staring. The surgery to remove this tumor is $50,000 Naira, that's about $400. He's only managed to save 3,000. He has five kids to put through school after all. Up till now I've been living on a very generous $100 a month, more than enough to make my life comfortable in the land of little. When I saw him that Friday afternoon, something in my soul broke. He looked like he had given up. it was written all over his face. Knowing he needed the surgery, yet no hope in sight. Yemi (a medical student from Mayo Med School) and I decided we would pool our money together and pay for all the expenses of the surgery. He came to the clinic faithfully everyday to have the wounds dressed and lab work drawn. Each time I saw him he would say, "God bless you, thank you." Then exactly one week later I was standing over him in the OR, watching as the doctors removed the tumor that had plagued him for so long. When I went to visit him post surgery, it was like meeting a totally different person. Not so much because of his now absent mass, but because of his spirit. Something in him was now alive where it wasn't before. He was grinning from ear to ear. And it wasn't until that moment that I realized I had never once seen him smile.

Faith Alive

2007-12-01T10:24:00.000-08:00

You know what's amazing to me? Everything at Faith Alive is free. Their counseling services, HIV testing, doctor visits, lab tests, medications (ARV's and otherwise), sewing school, computer school, transitional teen housing, food bank, it's all 100% F-R-E-E. There is no other hospital like it in Jos, and I would venture to guess in all of Nigeria, although I'm not positive. Other hospitals in this area charge for every little thing: the hand card, the visit with the doctor, the lab test and the medication; all separate fees.
I went to Blessing's house last week. Mind you, she lives with her two boys and her sister-in-law. Her 'house' is a ten by ten room with a double mattress on the floor, clothes hanging on free standing bars on the walls and everything else lining the perimeter of the room. She and her boys sleep on the bed together and her sister pulls out another mattress that leans up against the wall during the day. She cooks and bathes outside. Everything was very neat and tidy, clean and organized. Even as she was mourning the loss of her brother, when I arrived she said, "Nikki! Please, what can I offer you to drink..."

Thankful

2007-11-26T09:50:00.000-08:00

Last week I spent like an hour writing a post and just as I was about to publish it the NEPA went and lost the Internet connection and everything I wrote. When there's no NEPA we put on the generator, but I was so frustrated by the whole event I turned off the computer and went upstairs. I tell you all this because NEPA is currently powering the system and I'm reminded of the upset that occurred the last time, hoping it doesn't happen again.
Not too long ago I learned there are school fees primary and secondary education (the equivalent of K-12). On top of the school fees, parents must buy their children's books, and on top of that school uniforms. It's no wonder there are so many adults and children who are not educated. Blessing went as far as primary school, currently studying to pass her secondary school exam.
I was talking with a doctor last week-he said the most all of the books in their library are from the 1940's. I sort of choked and laughed at the same time, it's seemed so absurd, I couldn't believe it.
Blessing's brother died this weekend in a car accident in Lagos (big city that used to be the capital near the coast) His burial will be in the village, about 8 hours drive from here. What do you say to someone who has just lost part of their, and so unexpectedly? There aren't enough words...
Last week I watched a doctor stitched up a hole the size of a silver dollar in the side of a guy's knee due to a bike accident. For the time I've been here, I think I've only seen one or two guys wearing a helmets. The week before that one of the our staffs brother was killed instantly in a bike crash just down the road. The majority of people can't afford a car. Bike transport is, for most part, their only means of getting around-to work, the market, the hospital, wherever...

Latest & Greatest

2007-11-21T10:51:00.000-08:00

It's strange that tomorrow is Thanksgiving, it sure doesn't feel like it. Before a couple weeks ago I had all but written it off until a missionary couple mentioned they have a big get-together at their house. I'm totally stoked.
In other news, for the first part of the week I was in the GOPD-General Out Patient D...what does the D stand for? Department? Doctor? I don't know, probably one of those. Then today I was in the lab, fascinating stuff. Tomorrow I'm in the pharmacy; I've been there before, mostly counting and packaging pills.
Don't be fooled by this brief update; there's a lot going on in my head and as time goes on it's proving more and more difficult to put it all to page. I'm observing a lot, thinking a lot and learning even more. I guess you could say I'm letting it all simmer for now.

Randomness

2007-11-15T09:29:00.000-08:00

Just a few things to think about if you're trying to get a visual of what it's like here: Gone are the days of pop cans or plastic pop bottles; here it's all glass. Not only that, but all the bottles are recycled and reused again and again and again. Don't be fooled, when I say 'recycled' I mean they'll take the bottle and fill it up again (I pray there's a super sterile cleaning procedure). Yams are a staple. Here again, they're not the kind of yams you're probably thinking of. These yams are white and look like massive tree roots. They make yam everything: pounded yam, roasted yam, fried yam, yam porridge, yam stew (actually, I made that one up), yam, yam, yam. English is the official language, however I have to tell you I'm in the process of learning pigeon English-what a lot of people use. It's so strange hearing fragments of English run together. "How now?" that's "How are you?". I've also been picking up a little bit of Hausa, the other predominate language spoken here. Here's something that's totally crazy: they don't have street lights or stop lights. Think about down town Denver without any lights in the evening, or better yet, NYC pitch black. Of course they're used to it, but me, not so much. I found out last night the motorbikes have a curfew; they all have to be off the road by 8:00 pm or they're fined. It's like driving in a ghost town when they're not around. It takes me about an hour to wash what would be considered a small size load in a washing machine. I've concluded recently that they have hard water here-that make it all the more interesting getting all the soap out. Tea is the drink of choice in the mornings, the closest I've gotten to a cup off coffee has been from a can of instant-just add hot water! Plateau State (where I am) is the most evangelized state in all of Nigeria. I'm not even exaggerating when I say there's a church on every corner, sometimes more. Something else I found interesting: by and large you're either a Christian or a Muslim. The only exception I've been told would be for people who live in tribal regions, and then there they would practice what ever is specific to that tribe. It's not uncommon (I'm finding out) to see a grown man relieving him self on a nearby wall, or ditch or whatever really. I'll just be walking along, and whoa, sorry sir, didn't mean to interrupt...

My Heart Hurts

2007-11-11T10:42:00.000-08:00

I don't remember how much I've told you about Blessing; she's one of two very special friends here. Blessing is quite possibly one of the most genuinely joyful people I've ever met. She's never down, every time I see her she's smiling and laughing. She has a great laugh, really contagious. From day one she was so welcoming, always greets you with a hug. Her name really suits her.
Blessing's mom left her when she was little (not sure what age exactly) to live with her step-mom and her grandmother. She said they brought her up in anger, hatred and fear. I'm reading between the lines here, but I think that means they treated her really poorly, possibly abusive? She didn't know of love (those are her words). She was forced to marry at 15 to a man she didn't know. After that she had children, two boys, and a year before her husband died she found out he was positive. After he died her husbands family kept her boys and kicked her out of the house. With no money and no home, she came to Faith Alive, lived in transitional teen housing, learned to sew, and started ARV treatment. She said she just wanted to have peace with her husbands family, she didn't want to fight with them. She prayed that God would help her take back her children without causing conflict. Today Blessing looked different; she looked quite somber and "down". With tears in her eyes she began to retell the story above, really emphasizing that she never knew love in her childhood or in her marriage. She said the first love she ever knew was from God. She kept saying, I know He loves me, I know He'll always be there. She continued; "I don't like to think about these things, I don't want to think about past. It hurts me. I just want my boys to have better life. I want them to go to school, do what I couldn't" On her current salary she's not able to afford for her boys to go to secondary school, at least that's how I understood it. She said she makes about 1.000 Naira a week, sometime less, sometimes more. That's about $10. What she would like to do is go to school herself so that she can get a higher paying job to provide for her kids. Right now she has her own sewing shop where she teaches other HIV positive women to sew. She has to pay her shop rent, house rent, 35,000 Naira and 30,000 Naira respectively (they pay lump sums for the year) food, school fees and books for her boys. She hasn't put credit in her her phone for two weeks because she hasn't had the money.
Here's the real kicker-when I went home I calculated how her rent fees translate into dollars: shop rent-$290/year, house rent-$250/year. And for her to go to school? About $500 for three years. I added up just what it would cost for her to go to school and pay her rent for three years time-$1,250. That's $416 a year. That's $34 a month. That's a little more than a dollar a day. Granted there would be more expense involved, there's more to life than just rent and school fees. Nonetheless, perspective. As I said before, my heart hurts.

Malaria Update

2007-11-11T00:18:00.000-08:00

For those you who don't already know, I'm fine. I started taking meds last week, and a day or so later I was feeling a thousand times better. With modern medicine it's not like it's a death sentence. People here literally get it it four and five times a year. Most people are down for a week or so, mostly due to the side effects of the drugs, but after that it's back to life as usual.

Mrh

2007-11-09T11:07:00.001-08:00

I was lying on my bed tonight, waiting for dinner, thinking I should post something on my blog. I have a problem referring to this as "my blog", I don't know why, it just sounds weird. In fact, I laugh every time I say it. So, last weekend I went to a wedding. Technically it was two weddings, one was traditional one was the church wedding or the "white wedding" as they call it. The traditional wedding was supposed to start at 4:00, it didn't begin until oh, I don't know, 6:00? We were just hanging out outside, waiting, for something. At some point an MC type character started making announcements about money people were giving the couple; there was a runner, who would go to the seats of the guests, take the money (and their name) run it over to the MC and then the he would report the amount and the name of the donners. That lasted for a good hour, hour and half. Then we were served dinner, in our seats, still waiting for something to happen; at least that's what was going through my mind having never done this before. Somewhere along the line the groom came out, dressed in traditional Nigerian wear, and was seated facing the brides family. There was a presentation of the dowry, and then negotiation about the dowry, and then argument over the dowry. Someone told me that the brides family said that it wasn't enough, so they had to come up with more money on the spot. The dowry must be accepted by the brides family before she's allowed to come out. When the bride came out she was surrounded by her "bridesmaids" I don't quite know what to call them. They were singing and dancing around her walking her over to the groom. She sat on the groom's lap and then it was official, I think. Yeah, still trying to figure it out, it wasn't the most orderly thing I've ever been to, so it was a little difficult to figure out what exactly was going on when. Anyways, that was that. Then the next day was the church wedding, complete with bridesmaids, groomsmen, white gown, the whole nine yards. The service lasted somewhere between 2-3 hours. Then, the reception, oh my lord the reception. That didn't kick off until 2? Yeah, had to be about that time because my stomach had eaten itself by then, I remember it clearly. Something interesting about weddings here. they're more of a come one, come all sort of a thing. People invite their friends, and their friends friends and their friends family's friends and so on. It would never fly in the US, that's for sure.

Mosquitoes

2007-11-06T10:00:00.000-08:00

Do they have a productive propose? I was thinking, maybe they're some integral part of the bug world. Maybe a very important insect would die if they didn't have mosquitoes to feast on. The better part of my conscious tells me they're just annoying and the reason I have Malaria. It started yesterday with extreme muscle aches. I was feeling really weak and went to bed fairly early. During the night I had the chills and later on woke up in a pool of sweat. By the time morning came around I hardly had enough energy to make it to the bathroom and back. I slept most of the morning and then later on a doctor from Faith Alive paid me visit. After describing my symptoms he said, "Have you had Malaria before?". Within a couple hours my faithful friend Krysty showed up with medication. From what I'm told (and what I'm feeling) Malaria is a lot like the flu-headaches, muscle weakness, joint pain, fever, chills, etc. Not the worst thing in the world, but certainly not favorable.

Oops

2007-10-26T07:56:00.001-07:00

It's actually called "Project Peanut Butter" not, Peanut Butter Project. Sometimes I suffer from dyslexia.

Peanut Butter

2007-10-26T07:22:00.000-07:00

Nigeria has the worlds highest number of malnourished children, about 6 million, according to UNICEF. There is something called the "Peanut Butter Project" started by Dr. Manary in Malawi, whereby malnourished children are given a peanut butter based supplement fortified with vitamins and minerals over a period of eight weeks. Eighty percent of the children eating a full diet of the peanut butter supplement meet their weight for height goal. To date, nothing like this has been done in Nigeria. With the help of some independent US sponsors, Faith Alive hopes to mirror the Peanut Butter Project to treat malnourished children here. Right now, Krysty and I are working on a proposal to do a trail with this product on children who are seen in various local hospitals. Faith Alive palns to producee the peanut butter supplement in their newly built Nutrition Unit located in the Faith Alive social services area. The peanut butter would be given to malnourished children coming to the clinic at no cost, as all services at Faith Alive are offered free of charge. Right now, I think they're waiting on a large sum of money needed to purchase the equipment necessary for producing the peanut butter mixture. Once that comes it should be off and running. Exciting stuff...

Rain and Raving

2007-10-19T11:45:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like it really. That sweet smell. For about 5 minutes I was in a Colorado rain storm. It's funny how a smell can take you back like that. It was euphoric really. And then man with a megaphone started his weekly ritual. I don't think I've talked about this phenomenon. Anyone with a megaphone can go wherever they want and say anything they want until whatever time they want. Lucky for me there's one of these masterpieces attached to the church across the street from my flat. They "sing" mostly, which sounds like two tone deaf men trying to harmonize, whilst yelling. It's deafening. It's like the speaker is in my room, I'm not even kidding. My iPod can't even drown it out on full volume. Noise violation anyone? Other times they preach. It's like being center stage with a televangelist, substituted with Nigerian accent. There are also megaphones on wheels. Usually accompanied by a wheel barrel; one man driving, one man selling X product. My favorite was a guy camped in the middle of the market mit megaphone strapped to the top of his car. Hunched in the driver seat, feet hanging over the door going on and on about some supplement he was selling. Like nothing you've ever seen, I'm telling you.

Cops and Robbers

2007-10-17T10:50:00.000-07:00

Last week I went to visit a pastor who had been shot outside his home. He had just come home from work when a bunch of thieves jumped him, shot him and forced him to open the door to his home. They took what you might expect, money, electronics, cell phones, etc. He was shot in the ankle, so we were bringing him crutches. That same day Blessing said in passing she lost someones e-mail address when she was robbed, as if it happens every day. They held a gun to her face and took her money and phone. The next day when I was working in the pharmacy, out of mere curiosity, I asked my friend Krysty if she'd ever been robbed-it happened to her twice. Granted robberies happen all over the world. I've just never known anyone who's personally encountered not only their thief but their firearm as well.
After days of passing pockets of trash along the road I asked if there happens to be a trash service in the area. I was told there is a government service that is supposed to come around once a week. But, because it's government and they get paid no matter what, they come around when they feel like it. Krysty was saying it's been 4 weeks since they last came. Needless to say the aromas are...fragrant. There are different waves, they're a sour milk smell, rotting sea food, feces (probably from the goats and chickens that roam the streets), your basic sewer smell, the gassy exhaust smell, burning trash smell and then the several smells that just don't have a name because there just aren't enough words to explain.
Another interesting phenomenon: motorbikes. They're EVERYWHERE. Like bees. Buzzing up and down, left and right. There's no "that is your lane and this is mine", no no. It's a total free for all. This morning I saw four kids on one bike, including the driver. The first kid was sitting on the handle bars followed by the driver and three kids sandwiched behind him. There was another time I was in the market and I saw a guy who had just purchased lawn chairs. The driver had two of them balancing on the handle bars and the guy was holding the other two over his head, cycle in motion. I fear for every one of their lives. I really do.
The NEPA is on and I'm paranoid it's going to switch off at any second and I'll lose all that I just typed; that happened the last time I tried to post something and I was so frustrated I just said screw it. I'm not going through the whole process of finding the generator in the dark, re-booting, re-typing, etc. So with that said, over and out.

I Can't Believe It...

2007-10-16T06:35:00.000-07:00

The Rockies are in the World Series? Are you serious? I was watching BBC World news of all things when I hear "Colorado Rockies make it into the World Series for the first time in their history" My heart actually skipped a beat.
In other news, I've felt totally disconnected without the Internet. It feels like century since I was last on. There's just been a desktop set up in the guest house where I'm staying, so I think I'll be able to access more regularly. This is good news.
Last week I had my hair braided, with extensions. I feel like such an impostor. If you saw me right now you just might laugh. Fortunately for me, the Nigerians think it's fabulous. After sitting in a rusted tin chair for five hours, Blessing took me to a Salon to have the ends curled under. Now, I need to preface this with, most Nigerian women have their infants/toddlers with them wherever they go. At the clinic, at work, support group, all the time. With that said, it wasn't a surprise to see a toddler hangin out in the salon when we arrived. The interesting part came about when he needed to go to the bathroom. It went something like this: boy signals to mom he needs to relive himself. Mom pulls off his pants. Mom then hurls little boy by one arm into the backyard of the salon, by which little boy squats on the pavement and drops a load. It gets better. Older sister (I'm guessing) then goes out and washes away the little droppings with a bucket of water. Actually it took several, but nonetheless. It was incredible. I had a front row seat for the whole thing. Now back to the hair. When Blessing said I was to have my ends curled under, I honestly didn't think it through. What I mean by that is this-to curl ones hair with a your average curling iron would require electricity, of which is hardly ever on. So naturally the next best thing would be to roast a literal curing iron over an open fire to get the job done. I swear I'd see these things in a museum somewhere. It was a total trip. Women have told me my weave is supposed to last about two weeks. I'm thinkin, not so much. My Oyubo hair isn't holding up the way I'd hoped. I think it's coming out tonight.
Another bit of news, for the rest of the month I'll be working on a different project than the one previously mentioned. The guy who's currently in charge of the computer network is going to another organization. Apparently this happens quite a bit; Dr. Chirs said next to a government job, Faith Alive is the highest paying in Nigeria. But, what ends up happening is other international NGO's in Nigeria recruit talent from Faith Alive for a much higer salary. So anyways, this guy is leaving at the end of the month. Well, before he goes they want to transfer all their data to a new software program. But in order to do that they have to fix duplicate pharmacy records from the old one (the new program won't accept two records from the same day). That's where I come in. I go through line after line of duplicated records and combine them into one. There are over 1,500 duplicates (I counted). Twenty nine pages worth. I've been going at it for three days now, and I'm on page 9. Good times... In all seriousness though, it feels great to be productive. Be it ever so tedious.

One More Thing...

2007-10-08T12:24:00.000-07:00

Real quickly, I'll be working on two projects over the next several months. The first is a project sponsored by Heart to Heart. They are providing some 7,000 doses of Tibozole, a medication used to treat oral thrush (common in HIV patients, they develop sores in their mouth and esophagus that are so painful they can't swallow food). There are 63 governmental HIV/AIDS sites in Nigeria; this project goal is to make contact with and distribute the Tibozole to 50 of them in the next month. Part of the agreement with Heart to Heart is that the drug will be free to all recipients and that we track it's distribution at all the sites via monthly reporting. I'll be traveling around with Ayo to the different sites introducing the drug and training them on how to do monthly reporting. Second project is with Tear Fund, a group based out of the UK. Details a bit more foggy, but basically the goal of that project is to start up an HIV/AIDS clinic in an area that has no access to testing, drug therapy, counseling services, ad subsequently little to no awareness about HIV, modes of transmission, risks of mother to child transmission, etc. There's a lot more to that one, but I'm fading.

Monday, Monday

2007-10-08T11:50:00.000-07:00

Funny thing happened today...I was meeting with Ayo about some projects I'll be helping with (more to come on that later) when this woman walked into the room and asked me for my keys. Now, I know that I'd met her, but couldn't quite place who she was or why she might be asking for my keys. So I said, for...what? To which she quickly responded that she needed to clean and fill up my water (the big black barrel in the corner of my bathroom that I use for washing my face, bathing, flushing the toilet, washing my clothes, everything) That made sense, so I handed her my keys. It wasn't more that a minute after she left that I began thinking, I just gave away my keys! Why didn't I giver her my social security card and my passport while I was at it? I did that actually...when I first arrived. I'd been traving for 24+ hours and landed in Abuja at 4:30 in the morning. As I was standing in the ever long immagration line, random Joe Nigerian waves me to the front of the line to join the only other two white women in the place (of which I quickly discovered were also goinig to Faith Alive). He mumbled something in English or Housa, I'm not really sure, it was all the same to me at that point, then asked me to give him my passport and meet him at the front after collecting my bags. So, I handed him my passport. As I started walking toward the baggage claim, it caught up with me, I just gave him my passport...I thought, yep, that's it. I'm never leaving Nigeria. I got my bags and all the while frantically surching for Joe, who was no where to be found. As I started to gravitiate toward the herd of people at the exit, Joe, my Nigerian in shining armor showed up with my passport! I could have cried. To make another long story short, I got my keys back and all was well.

Days Seem Like Weeks

2007-10-04T13:39:00.000-07:00

I'm not trying to beat a dead horse here, but seriously...so much happens in a day. Let's see, went to the orphanage today. Couple things: Number one, there were not as many orphans as I thought there would be. We walked in to find three toddlers and one infant. There were five in all. Only one kid who was at school while we were there. He's 10 and has some pretty severe disabilities. From what I understood, the kids that were there were left on the street. People don't deliver their unwanted children directly to the orphanage.

Next point, the toddlers weren't wearing diapers or pants or anything but a t-shirt. Just a bunch of little bare butts. So when they need to go, you know, they just go on the floor and crawl in the puddle or pile of whatever it turns out to be. The toddlers were on the floor when we walked in, I would say they were somewhere around 6months to a year? Both of them were gnawing on limes. When I say gnaw, I mean they were literally eating the rinds of whole limes. I took pictures. Still letting it sink in.

When we first arrived I met a woman by the name of Blessing. Tonight she told us how she came to know about Faith Alive. She was married when she was 14 through an arranged marriage. She had three children with her husband before he died of AIDS. After he died, his family believed she was to blame for his death and no longer welcomed them in their home. Her pastor told her about Dr. Chris and Faith Alive and she came down to Jos without her children. She started on the ARV drugs, and went throughout the sewing school. At some point she went back to her village and took her children. The husbands family threatened to come after her and take her to court, but never did. Millions of stories like this I'm sure...

Day ?

2007-10-03T12:29:00.000-07:00

So, I don't know what day it is, Wednesday maybe? Whatever it is I know it hasn't been a week, which is weird because it feels like a month. I've seen/heard a lot of really tough stuff. Still processing...it's so extreme it's hard to internalize. Before now AIDS in Africa has been reports, stories, stats, etc. I knew it was real, but now...it's real. I went on HBC (Home Bound Care) visits today; these are people who are in outlying villages who are too sick to come in to the clinic. We visited two women; there is no way for me to put into words the way they looked, and I don't think I want to. One of the women, couldn't get out of her bed and was losing her hearing so we had a hard time talking with her. She had three children, 13, 6 and 1 years old. The thirteen year old was caring for the other two. The mother believes the daughter infected her with HIV and still holds it against her. If Faith Alive hadn't intervened when they did, they probably would have killed her. I guess this is one of many 'tribal' type beliefs about how HIV is contracted. Later in the afternoon we traveled about an hour and a half away to a site where Faith Alive will be building a hospital sponsored by Tear Fund (UK organization). P.S I'm supposedly assisting with this project, details not clear. It was a totally different atmosphere from Jos, we're talking grass huts and banana trees. Ayo told us that currently there are no social programs anywhere in the area-no hospital/clinic, no school for the kids, nothin. The kids are amazing, in that village, in Jos, everywhere we go. Whenever we walk by they wave and yell, "Ouyba! Ouyba!" (white person). It's funny...they're so excited to see you.

Day One

2007-09-30T10:57:00.000-07:00

You'll all be happy to know, I made it to Jos safe and sound. I'm super tired, jet lagged and so totally stoked to be here. The computer is running off a generator at the moment; the electricity comes and goes at random. That means unless I bathe during the day it's a dark sponge bath for me. It also means I have to manually flush the toilet. It goes a little something like this: you do your business, then you fill up a bowl of water and pour it down the toilet bowl and there you have it. Interesting times here so far.

Two Weeks and Counting...

2007-09-14T10:13:00.001-07:00

As of yesterday, I moved out of my apartment and moved into my car, my temporary storage place. Over the next couple of week's I'll be staying with friends until I depart on the 28th. Not long now...