Seasonal Felicitations from Nigeria!

The Christmas season has officially commenced. Tonight’s commemoration of the start of Christmastime included a big screen viewing of Elf with A/Cs on full blast while sipping hot chocolate. We are amazingly blessed to have the capabilities of creating such a serene atmosphere in the African heat. With power out for most of the last couple of days, the playing of Christmas music has failed to give our sweating bodies the feeling of a Winter Wonderland. But we thank God for the comforts and small pleasures that he grants us. 

Thursday’s holiday did indeed give rise to much giving of thanks. Our Thanksgiving feast took place at the South African compound. About 25 friends (many of whom have become like family) joined in the festivities, representing a total of 10 different countries. It was definitely the most international Thanksgiving that I’ve ever had. While I wasn’t feeling quite up to par, I surely was feeling thankful. For, Thursday was the first day of the week that I wasn’t severely suffering from the effects of malaria.

Ah, yes, Malaria. It’s pretty much a given that, upon living here for any significant amount of time, you’ll experience the ever-common illness. I had supposedly contracted it briefly last spring, but it wasn’t anything like this week. They called it GI Malaria. Upon my first visit to the hospital, they more than sufficiently medicated me (by “more than sufficiently” I may mean OVER-medicated…). After the first couple days of malaria symptoms, the side effects of the drugs took over—that is, COMPLETE fatigue. I was wiped out to the point that I couldn’t teach for the majority of the week. Sitting at home, waiting for my body to heal was agonizing. But, I am ever so thankful for the care that my comrades here in the compound showed me—multiple visits to the hospital, waiting on me hand-and-foot, forcing me to rest. They were a huge blessing. During the Thanksgiving meal, I gave thanks, in all sincerity, not just for my improving health, but also for my sickness—for two reasons. First, though it seemed miserable most of the time, I’m thankful that I was forced to slow down and just sit. In so doing, I came to the realization that, in fact, the world does NOT depend upon me, and I don’t have to feel the weight of supposed dire responsibilities as heavily as I had been. Secondly, my sickness gave me a great appreciation for health and the ability to work. I mean, honestly, I was never so happy to work as I was on Friday when I stepped foot into class with a mostly cleared mind and a somewhat energized body. What fools we are to take such things for granted. So, this Thanksgiving week, I am, INDEED, grateful to God for His inestimable blessings.

This upcoming week is the final full week of school for the term. What a wonderful term it has been.  I am extremely thankful for the meaningful relationships that I’ve been able to form with many of my students. I am prayerfully trusting that God is using such relationships to produce fruit which is pleasing to Him. I am thankful for the awesome discussions that I’ve been able to lead in various classes—discussions, which, I hope, have pointed students towards God’s beautiful plan for their lives. I am thankful to be a part of the most important mission in the world—that of bringing souls out of the darkness and into the light. I have grown to love my students deeply this year and want nothing less than for them to understand fully what is the height and the depth, the length and the width, of our Father’s love for them. Please join me in praying this week for those in my Bible classes who will hear of the opportunity to be “born-again” into real, soul-satisfying LIFE through Jesus Christ.

October Happenings and Visitors

Apparently, it’s been over a month since I last updated my blog.  I don’t know about in America, but time is flying in Nigeria. Every moment has been filled with grace (recently defined to me as “God working”), and most have been extremely enjoyable.  I’ll attempt a brief update.

       I continue to thrive in my teaching situation. Some (including myself) have expressed concern that I might kill myself with the amount of work that I have to do, but somehow God is keeping me afloat and quite content in the hustle and bustle of  my eight different class subjects. My students, while sometimes a challenge behaviorally and academically, stave away any semblance of a dull moment and bring joyous purpose to each day. 2^nd -7^th grade students are currently being introduced, along with the followers of John the Baptist, to “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.” It’s too cool to see kids begin to make connections between Old Testament law and miracles involving a lamb, and the Deliverer to whom they are now being introduced.  The 11^th and 12^th grade composition class has been a blast so far.  As we begin studying logic and argument in depth, my passion for the subject has been reignited by a passage in 2 Corinthians, “ We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ” (2 Cor 10:5).  I find it an awesome privilege to be involved in the sharing of tools, like argumentation, which will be used to destroy lies and darkness in order that light and life might prevail. I just completed my first debate unit with 8^th graders, which had similar purpose in developing students’ understanding of argument. We had some rough days preparing, but the public debate last week was a success. A great highlight of the debate was the “international adjudicator,” which leads to the major excitement of the month—a visit from my parents!

       Last Monday, October 22, my parents arrived in Lagos for a nine day visit to Nigeria. It was an awesome, jam-packed trip for them. Those who live near Morristown or happen to phone my mom will no doubt hear a full account of the many adventures that they had. I’ll not spoil any of her stories, but give a brief overview. I was extremely pleased to introduce Mom and Dad to my life in Ibadan—my fellow teachers, my students, my friends, my compound, my bible study, my city, and my weekly market experience. Mom even got to dress in Ancara (the traditional Nigerian clothing) and sing with me in a church choir concert. After a few days at ACA, where I think they received QUITE the education, my parents and I began a 14 hour journey up to the Nigerian/Cameroon border-town of Obudu with fellow teachers and friends. 

Mountains in Obudu, Nigeria

After a week (or 1.5 years for me) in a big dirty city, we were stupefied at the beauty that we found there. We stayed in a lovely little chalet in the “Obudu Cattle Ranch Resort” which was situated in the most stunning mountains I’ve ever beheld (save, MAYBE, the Alps).

After one day of hanging out and swimming, we spent the second day hiking over about twelve small mountains until we reached a quiet village in Cameroon. We couldn’t believe our eyes. 

The hiking crew with the village chief (who has at least 6 wives and 30- children).  

We found a primary school in session and observed about 150 precious children who were released for lunch break with shouts of joy. These kids, we found out, were in extreme poverty—some barely able to pay the $2.00 per year for school fees, while their peers were kicked out for not coming up with the sum. Hunger, the schoolmaster said, was a huge problem. Indeed, none of the kids ate a bite during “lunch break.” It was a sobering experience, to say the least. But, we did get to teach them a few songs, play a bit of “football” with them, and meet the chief of their small village. We are now considering organizing an outreach for ACA students to go and assist, in someway, these beloveds of God.

Cameroonian Kids at a small village school 

       My parents’ trip was full of sights and opportunities that even I had not experienced before. I am so blessed to have incredible support from such awesome loving parents. I’ve said “Goodbye” for now, but amazingly, I only have another five weeks before I will be the one boarding the plane for America. 

Early Autumn Reflections

Can it be the end of September already? This month has seemingly passed so much more quickly than September, 2011. This time last year, I was wondering, “Why would I ever care to stay in this place longer than a year?” This year, amazingly, the question is more, “Why would I ever care to leave this place?” Now, please don’t think I have any clear direction for my future, I’m just unbelievably content here now. 

The last couple of weeks have been full, not only of school-related work and activities, but also of lessons and spiritual growth.  My schedule is QUITE jam-packed (especially compared to last year), but all is going well. I’m so thankful that God doesn’t see my schedule as too busy to work with. Each day calls for a deep rejuvenating night’s sleep (which I, so far, have been privileged to obtain), and each new day gives rise to opportunities to experience and share the nurturing love of Christ. I am blessed to start out almost every day leading different classes in worshipping God. It’s a sweet few minutes which gives my day beautiful focus. “Why are we doing this ‘singing’ thing?” I ask the kids every morning. They respond with a growing understanding of the reason for which they were created and the importance of lifting our eyes to recognize the power and love of our Lord.

Last Thursday, which I’ve already narrated for several of you, was a particularly full day in the Kingdom. In 4^th grade English that day, we were supposed to be learning about subjects in imperative sentences, but I ended up learning something a bit more important. Tosin had spent the week slowly moving down the behavior chart until his name sat precariously close to the final scary stage which said “Meet with Parents for intervention.” When Tosin saw that his neighbor, Tolu, was using “his” pencil, he decided it would be a good idea to yell and try to grab it from her. I, in turn, thought it would be a good idea for him to move his name down to the final level of the behavior chart. Upon seeing the impending consequences, Tosin began wailing and crying like it was the end of the world. After he quieted a bit, I went over and asked what the problem was and why he had insisted on yelling and getting so upset at Tolu. After his explanation of the situation, I said, “Tosin, regardless of whether or not she actually stole the pencil, next time you have trouble, all you have to do is raise your hand for help. I am here to help you and I will make sure justice is done.” When the incident was over, I thought about the words that I had spoken to my student and recognized a bit of hypocrisy.  Were these not the same words that my Father speaks to me whenever I have trouble with people or things around me: “Calm down, Lee Anne. No need to get your panties in wad. Just raise your hand, ask for help, and I will make sure that everything works out. I am here for you.” Yet, I still sometimes take it upon myself to get real upset about things that I should trust to Him. What a wonderful and convicting realization.

That afternoon, I encountered some of the clearest spiritual warfare that I’ve ever experienced. The second grade kids have always been a struggle, but Thursday’s Bible class was intense. I began class by announcing that today we would be introduced to the Deliverer-- which we have long been hearing about and waiting for. The children responded by cheering (a right response, if you ask me), but the excitement didn’t last long.  It was very clear that Satan didn’t want the kids to the get the message of hope that I planned to relate to them that day. A deep chaos and darkness took over the class for the next 15 minutes that left me extremely saddened and feeling like a failure for not having been a better instrument. 

After my Bible classes, I took my dampened spirits home to pray. I asked God to somehow redeem my day. I had only one club left to teach, but I knew that God could bring something good that revealed His glory out of this afternoon. At 3:30, I went to conduct speech club.  I was followed into the classroom by two of my speech students.  Literally, the first thing out of one of my student’s mouths was, “Ms. Lee Anne, are you a strong Christian?” This led to a pretty sweet conversation about God’s forgiveness and willingness to call us His children regardless of our sin. It was beautiful and an amazing answer to my prayers of earlier that day.

It’s exciting to see God work in and through me. In fact, there’s nothing better in life, nothing more satisfying, nothing more beautiful. He’s a good God, folks, and I’m so privileged to get to share Him with these students that I’m growing to love. 

“The joy of the Lord is my strength.”

            I’m struggling to write about the last few weeks, mostly because I don’t know how to relate the deep satisfaction and joy that I’m feeling.  How does one describe the love of an indescribable Father? How do I put into words the feeling that results from the knowledge that God delights in me? ME!?! This selfish, proud, miniscule, sack of dirty rags? Incredible.

            Indeed, I have been feeling the fullness of His love recently. I am dumbfounded by the extent to which He is blessing me. Honestly, I am LOVING my job so far. Save one monotonous spelling class, I have loved every single class that I have taught.  I mean, come on. I’ve gotten to discuss with 7^th and 8^th graders the significance of reading literature that increases our moral imagination and bring greater understanding of transcendental truths that can guide out lives. I’ve gotten to share Richard Weaver’s theory regarding order and personality in the context of my 11^th and 12^th grade composition class. I’ve reviewed and reiterated man’s desperate need for a Deliverer and God’s amazing grace in elementary and middle school bible classes. I’ve initiated the 4^th grade English class into the “English Codetalkers Cadet School” where we complete code-breaking missions daily. I’ve scared the living daylights out of a few middle schoolers by introducing them to public speaking. It’s been a blast.

            Though quite different from my wonderful preschool experience last year, I am thriving in my new classrooms. It’s fun to have real conversations and discussions about real life issues with kids who have a larger than 50 word vocabulary. HOWEVER, those kids that I had last year with the tiny vocabularies.... Yeah. They are awesome. Whenever I need a little pick-me-up, I pay a visit to the preschool department. I’ve developed quite a routine. First, I peek my head around a big curtain in the pre-KG class where I make faces at the kids until everyone notices and starts laughing and pointing at “MS. LEE ANNE!!” Second, I head over to the pre-nursery class where I greet the youngest in the preschool department. In this class, I am always warmly greeted by Kanyinsola who runs up to embrace me and answer my questions about her day with a whispered “fine.” Finally, I head up to the nursery class where I see all of my students from last year. In this class, I wreak havoc. For example, when I walked in a few days ago, all of the students got up from their tables and ran to attack me with hugs. After horsing around for a minute, I announced that I needed to go teach the big kids. They responded by shouting, “NOOO, don’t go!!!” and slamming their bodies against the door so that I literally could not leave.  How’s that for a self-esteem boost, Ms. Lee Anne? But… I think I own the nursery class teacher, Ms. Kelly, I huge letter of apology every single time I walk in that room.

      Sufficed to say, I’m having a grand ol’ time over here. Though I will also say, my jammed packed school schedule + online classes + various other bible study/Sunday school responsibilities are becoming a bit exhausting. I’d appreciate prayers as I continue to juggle my workload. I especially would ask for prayer regarding my Bible class, which I desperately don’t want to receive back-burner treatment in light of my other responsibilities. I’m praying for a beautiful harvest for the Kingdom this year and don’t want to neglect the labor that such a harvest may require, regardless of my other duties or fatigue.

Until next time…

A Pleasing Arrival

     In light of yesterday’s talk about plagiarism in the school staff meeting, I feel obligated to credit the following thought to my housemate, Gretchen.

“We’ve now been here a week, but it kinda feels like we never left.” (perhaps if it was a more profound thought I would have secretly claimed it…). Actually, Gretchen was quite right. It has been a wonderfully easy transition back into my Nigerian life—the hectic traffic, sleeping under the mosquitoes net, tupperware hunts in the market with vendors shouting to you, “Maria! I know you! You are from Switzerland!”, etc. It’s great to be back. Of course, school doesn’t start until this coming week, so I cannot yet say that I’ve figured out my routine for the year.

     

     We arrived in Lagos last Saturday evening where I got some much needed sleep—it seems I’ve lost my ability to sleep on planes. I traveled with Katie and our new staff-member and housemate, who happens to be from Knoxville, Meghan Francis. After meeting up with Gretchen and Kyle and spending the night at the Baptist Guest House, we headed to our home in Ibadan. After about an hour of driving, it started to rain, which is not ideal in a bus with poor windshield wipers, on a pot-hole ridden expressway, with no semblance of order amongst the automobiles. So… we had a small wreck. In America we might try to call it a three car pile up, but here, it’s no big deal. Our driver, Augustine, got out, did a bit of yelling with the other drivers, and—as our car was still in okay driving condition—we were on our way. NBD. Really. It happens all the time.

            

     Upon arriving at our compound, we were warmly greeted by our fellow-compound-dwellers. That was the start of some great re-unions with fellow staff and friends. To be quite honest, I think because my summer was so full of wonderful people and experiences, I had forgotten about just how much I love the people in my life here in Nigeria. I am so blessed to be working with warm, gracious, and delightful people. It’s been fun to have a staff week of praising, bonding, and preparing together…without students. For me, It’s been fairly relaxed, quite productive, and an overall blast. After this past week, I remember that I had mixed feelings about coming back, but I can’t figure out for the life of me why I would have felt anything but excitement! Perhaps it’s just the grace of God, again giving me transcendent joy and contentment. No, not perhaps. Definitely.

    School starts on Monday. First time teaching English on Tuesday. First time teaching Literature and spelling on Wednesday. First online Stats exam on Wednesday. First time teaching 12th grade essay writing on Thursday. Other “firsts” will follow next week. Sufficed to say, prayers would be greatly appreciated. I do not have the ability to successfully meet the challenges of the next week or the next year, but I rejoice in the truth that His grace is sufficient for me, for his power is made perfect in my weakness. Oh, and that wasn’t my original thought either (2 Cor 12:9).

"He Restoreth My Soul:" Following the Fisherman-Shepherd

“The Lord is My Shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters; He restoreth my soul.” –Psalm 23

Yesterday evening was a perfect day for a final summer run with my Dad. After booking it around Southfork Circle, I climbed the front grassy bank in exhaustion only to find myself in the midst of glorious beauty. With the calm 70 degree summer breeze blowing against my moistened face, I gazed at the hazy valleys, hills, and mountains which reflected the last rays of the setting sun.  Sitting next to my Dad, smelling Mom’s fried chicken through the opened window, my soul was at rest.

             It seems odd that my summer has brought me to this place of restoration and peace. One might glance at my summer calendar and completely deny the possibility of rest and regeneration. Upon arriving in America in May, I immediately began an Anatomy and Physiology course at the local community college. Weekends were filled with trips to D.C. or Kentucky and the receiving of friends and family. With the conclusion of that class commenced studying for the GRE, squeezed between trips to visit wonderful friends and family in Kentucky and then Nebraska. Next was two glorious, but exhausting weeks of Joni and Friends Disability Family Retreats. Finally, after taking the GRE, I was able to focus on preparing for the numerous classes I’ll be teaching this coming year, while exploring options for future graduate work. My philosophy this summer, when it came to deciding between different activities and trips, was, “DO IT ALL!” What can I say, I’m my mother’s daughter. 

But how is it that now, upon reflecting upon my summer, I find my heart and mind revived, refocused, and at peace? Ultimately, I think it’s because through the multitude of activities, the God of Peace ushered me into His presence.  To be near God: is there any greater good, any higher aspiration? I am so thankful that He revealed Himself to me in such multifarious ways. He showed me his awesome creativity and precision through studies of the Human Body. He reminded me of the power and comfort of His love through rekindled friendships. He used my family to show me His grace. He used the lives of those whose disabilities have stripped away any semblance of glory-obstructing pride to show me his very face.  I saw his majesty in panoramic views of the Appalachian Mountains. I felt His pleasure in hours of laughter, singing, and dancing. He allowed me to bask in his presence in church worship, Toyota worship, and front-porch worship. I felt Him. He was with me. And I fell more in love with Him.

As I sit in the Houston airport, anticipating another year in Nigeria, I pray that-- like Moses whose face shone after being with the Almighty—my life will reflect the glory and grace which I beheld this summer. There is much work to be done this year—many lesson plans to write, many lectures to give, many papers to grade—but the greatest work that I have the opportunity to participate in is reflecting the soul-nourishing light of a loving God. “If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, (and surely this love is only possible in the presence of the one who is named Love), I am nothing.”

I’m reminded of the waters which Ezekiel sees flowing from the House of God:

“These waters…go toward the sea, being made to flow into the sea, and the waters of the sea becoming fresh. It will come about that every living creature which swarms in every place where the river goes, will live. And there will be very many fish, for these waters go there and the others become fresh; so everything will live wherever the river goes. And it will come about that fishermen will stand beside it; from Engedi to Eneglaim there will be a place for the spreading of nets. Their fish will be… very many.” –Ezekiel 47

My prayer is that I might be part of that river, whose source and energy is found in the House of God, who, being made fresh, brings life. As I cross the ocean today, I pray that I carry with me the soul-restoring peace that I have found in the presence of God this summer. I pray that, as a result of the living water that I bring, many will be brought to the Fisherman-Shepherd who promises goodness and mercy all the days of our lives.

The Countdown

The countdown has begun. In less than a month, I’ll be back in Morristown, Tennessee, of the United States of America. In less than a month I will be able to drink out of the tap, breath deeply of fresh air, have constant electricity, and not hear the mocking chant every time I walk outside: “Oyinbo, peppe, chuku chuku, peppe.” Also, I’ll get to see my sister whom I will have not seen for a year, which is pretty great.

My great anticipation for home, however, is not an indicator of my discontent here in Nigeria. In fact, I am remarkably content and full of thanksgiving for all of the ways that God is blessing and teaching me here. My countdown is not anticipating “getting out of this place,” but rather reaching another place of blessing full of people whom I love.

The last few weeks have been great.  I have fallen in love with another small child, a very fragile looking one-year-old, named Kanyinsola. I think we have mutual admiration for each other which causes our faces to light up and our arms to extend each time we see each other.  She’s precious I tell you. My Pre-Nursery class continues to grow in their brilliance. Tomorrow we will be joining the 5^th graders in a shape search that will involve finding pentagons, octagons, and hexagons around the school. I mean really, what 2-3 year-olds do you know that can identify an octagon?

We had quite the time with electricity, A/C’s, and internet here in our compound this week, but we can’t really complain seeing as a) it’s all part of the African experience, and b) most of our neighbors have it WAY worse than we.

Last weekend Ibadan hosted an ACSI (Association of Christian Schools International) conference that most of our staff was able to benefit from.  We residents of the compound also had the privilege of hosting two of the speakers at different times, which was brilliant. One of the leaders in ACSI—who also happened to be Katie and Gretchen’s South African Principal and Karen’s friend—spoke to us about the exponential growth of Christian education in Africa. It was all quite fascinating.  He sees good Christian education (as in solid education through a Christian worldview) as an essential part of the economic and social development of this continent. Whereas the animism that has permeated Africa causes stagnation as people wait for the goodwill of their gods to shine on them, Christianity encourages progress as man realizes the responsibility of managing the earth that he lives on.  It was fun to hear some academic analysis of this apparent “movement” of Christian education in Africa that I have somewhat inadvertently become a part of.

Tuesday was a public holiday which we Americans celebrated by travelling to a waterfall. As we approached the small town that bordered the small mountain range, we imagined the natural beauty and peace that we were about to experience. Unfortunately the day didn’t turn out exactly how we had hoped. As we ascended up the mountain (which seemed quite small compared to the last mountain we hiked), we began to hear a loud chatter. Upon reaching the first of four levels of the waterfall, we found a massive party taking place. Apparently Nigerians really enjoy celebrating May Day. There was a huge excess of alcohol and noise which we were not too excited about entertaining. Luckily we saw a steep path leading to the next level which no one seemed to have noticed before. We quickly climbed away from the havoc, reached a much nicer falls, and prepared to have our picnic lunch…. Just in time to see that the party had followed us up. Soon our initially empty nature spot had filled with screaming drunkards. Luckily we had found another path of ascent. This time we tried to sneak away quickly with no one seeing and rapidly get out of sight. It was a more difficult climb, and when we reached the third falls, we were quite sure that we had lost the party. We relished the peace and beauty that we had finally found… for ten minutes before we heard voices. Sure enough they had followed us again. At this point, we decided that we had had enough of this mountain of sin and so made a quick descent back to our car. You know how sometimes you go on a small vacation and never want to come home? Yeah…that wasn’t the case for us on this trip.

I’m looking forward to my last few weeks of school. I’m excited to bring my bible classes up to the point of Jesus’ birth, having gone through a bulk of Old Testament stories this year. It’s been great for me personally to analyze and synthesize these stories which provide the foundation for my faith. I greatly anticipate the privilege of now bringing the Gospel of Jesus Christ to these students who have begun to recognize the existence and character of the One True God.

I am also excited this month to be working with 7^th and 8^th graders in speech.  I recognize it to be an uncertain and yet pivotal time in these kids’ life and, consequently, a really difficult time to be forced to speak publically before your peers. It was also the time in my life that I began developing my speaking skills—a process which proved tremendously instrumental in forming the personality which I own today.  Many of these kids are putting up a fight. I’m hoping that they’ll surrender quickly that they might prove victorious in the end.

25 more days.

A Mountain-Top Experience

I have had some amazing Spring Break vacations and some memorable Easter holidays in the past, but this year’s Easter and Spring Break really took the cake. God has blessed me immensely throughout the last several years by giving me wonderful, dedicated friends. One such friend, Caroline Rose, demonstrated unbelievable dedication by making huge sacrifices to take a two week trip to visit me in Africa.  Her visit was a great encouragement to me and a whole heck of a lot of fun.

After some significant worrisome delays, Caroline arrived here in Nigeria on March 30^th. Two days later, Gretchen, Katie, Caroline and I flew to Cameroon for a week of fantastic mid-term vacation. Karen, Equi, and their daughter, Ifolo, had arrived in Cameroon several days earlier and met us in Limbe, Cameroon at a Ocean View hotel.  Upon arriving in Cameroon, we were taken aback by the startling difference between this country and its neighbor, Nigeria.  There was a refreshing amount of peace, order, and clean air that we could only dream of in Ibadan.  This is probably due to the fact that there are something like 15 times more people in Nigerian than are in Cameroon. The atmosphere and terrain in Limbe was simple gorgeous. We lounged for two days on a beach with mountains at our backs and a lovely warm ocean breeze in our faces.

The plan, of course, was to climb the highest mountain in West Africa which also happens to be an active volcano. Our concerns about the approaching rainy season were compounded when our second day on the beach was inundated by an outrageous monsoon. Nevertheless, on Wednesday morning, we arose by 5 AM, stopped by the French bakery for some fresh pastries and yogurt, and drove to the foot of Mount Cameroon in Buea. As spoiled Americans (though it also seemed proved a necessity), we hired six Cameroonian men to act as porters and carry our food, water, tents, and other belongings up the mountain. We planned to hike up and down the mountain in three days, spending one night in or around a hut and the second night in tents only. After repacking our things for the porters, we started the trek up the mountain at around 7 AM. The morning was spent hiking through something like farmland and then a beautiful rainforest.  By noon, we ascended above the treeline and began climbing up steep grasslands. Soon we reached some incredibly steep inclines covered in small volcanic rock which caused very slow going. With exhausted legs, we were all to glad to see our destination for the evening by 3 PM, affectionately known as “Hut #2.”  After a nice warm meal, we were ready to crash by 7 PM.

As we were joined that night by two other hiking groups, the porters kindly set up our very small tents near the rough hut and we bedded down for the night. Unfortunately, my tent was placed squarely upon two large rocks, which made the falling asleep process a bit difficult for Caroline and I. If that was the only trouble of the night, we would have been set.  It started to rain at around 1 AM. It started to POUR at 1:30. At 1:45, a monsoon came and our tent began to cave in. Caroline and I attempted to hold it up for a while, but when we felt water seeping in, we surrendered to the deluge and decided to retreat to the hut, even if it required pushing over our sleeping Chinese hiking companions. Getting out of our wet, collapsing tent was not the most graceful experience, but we eventually made it to shelter where we thankfully found a place large enough to lie down and sleep for a few hours before beginning our hike again.

At 6:30 the next morning, as the sun was rising, several damp, freezing, and somewhat grumpy American arose out of their various “sleeping” quarters.  Without too much discussion, it was decided that we would complete this hiking experience within the next 14 hours so as to escape another night of mountain-top hell.  This required those who were interested in summiting to quickly climb to the top and then begin the trek all the way down the way they came (as opposed to going down the other less steep side of the mountain). Gretchen, Katie, Caroline, and I set out to do just that while the others began the descent immediately.

The four remaining hours of upward climbing to the summit were unbelievably difficult and COLD.  I came close to quitting several times, but eventually made it to the top of the 14,000 ft. volcano. Sitting in a cloud on top of some molten-rock mountain was an incredible (and FREEZING) experience. Nevertheless, we stayed for only 7 minutes before beginning our descent. Coming down the mountain was nearly as difficult as climbing up—in some places more so.  Though I did have a couple of tumbles, I miraculously made it down the volcano alive. The last three hours of the hike were ridiculous as my legs felt like spaghetti and lacked any control. As I told my companions, “I think I now have a better understanding of what it must be like to walk with prosthetic legs—you just toss ‘em out there and hope for the best.”

It took the remaining three days of vacation to recover from our hike. I have never been so sore in my entire life.

The day before our scheduled departure from Cameroon, we decided to go on a little adventure. First, we wanted to find the quick-sand which Karen had “played in” as a child. Though the sand itself wasn’t all that thrilling, our motorcycle drivers, who more-than-willingly chauffeured around Limbe, were quite memorable. Many marriage proposals were given, and many hearts broken that day. Our second destination was a small island out in the bay that we viewed from our motel. In order to reach said island, we were taken (by our same love-struck motorcycle drivers) to a slightly remote fishing village. Upon being quickly swarmed by African men, I wisely counseled by friends to try their hardest to “blend in.” I’m not sure that we were successful. After some intense bargaining (Karen was bargaining for a boat ride while Gretchen was bargaining for more chocolate and land in return for her hand in marriage…), we entered a questionable wooden canoe with a motor and headed out into the waves. We got NEAR the island before our motor stopped working and we decided to jump in and swim the rest of the way. When we reached the island, we climbed to the top of the rocks (which was a feat considering our sore legs) and found the remains of some ancient African dwellings, which was pretty darn cool. Meanwhile our canoe driver was fixing our motor and the motorcycle driver who accompanied us on the boat was trying in vain to woo Caroline.

Eventually we made it back to our hotel, all safe and sound, having made some priceless memories. The next day, our Cameroonian adventure ended with a bang as our hired taxi driver picked us up for the airport nearly two hours late and we came within a hair’s breadth of missing our flight home.

All in all, this spring break was definitely the most venturesome vacation I’ve ever had—truly a mountain-top experience.

2nd Term Comes to a Close

It’s March Madness season, and believe it or not, there have been many riveting discussions here in Ibadan about who will be the reigning champions this year in American Basketball. Unfortunately, my bracket is far from accurate, but the fact that I can even keep up with American sports is pretty amazing to me.

Our 2^nd school term is drawing to a close, and it has been a full one. All of my extra guitar clubs, basketball club, piano lessons, Bible teaching, preschool teaching, and Senior School speech training have kept each week buzzing with activity.  I just finished the Speech unit for the 11^th grade class.  After the 9^th grade presented speeches in front of the entire senior school last month, many of the 11^th graders were quite apprehensive to following their lead.  But overall, I think the experience ended up being very valuable for most of them—and for some of them, possibly life changing.  Surprisingly, several of the students chose to speak on topics which were quite personal—whether it was something that they struggled with or something which they felt passionately about.  I so enjoyed getting to discuss on a deep level issues which they felt their peers needed to hear about—whether it be self-confidence, or anorexia, or overcoming personal challenges.

On the 16^th, ACA hosted their annual Science Fair, which is a BIG DEAL. We’ve been warned about the stress of the Science Fair since our first week in Ibadan last term.  The preschool department’s set-up was nice, with information and activities related to the five senses.  Besides the fact that Kyle—the guy who was in charge of the whole thing—came down with G.I. malaria and typhoid on that day (his birthday) and was in the hospital with an IV, the day went well. At least, it was fun to see the parents come and interact with their kids and teachers. Our department—smelling—was a huge hit for children and adults of all ages.

Last week we had the older girls from the Mission for the Deaf over again. This time we just decorated cookies, played games, and got to know each other better. They are really a great group—very mature for their age and very patient to communicate and help us learn a bit of sign language.

I am thrilled out of my mind to be able to receive my good friend, Caroline Rose, as a guest here starting Thursday.  Of course, she won’t be here in Ibadan long at all before travelling with several of us to Cameroon where we will climb the highest mountain in West Africa.  I’m definitely looking forward to spending my week of spring break in such a fashion—cool weather, full moon, on a volcano in Cameroon—does it get any better? I mean, it’ll be a pretty tough three day hike from what I hear, but I’m thinking it will be worth it. Don’t worry, I’ll bring back some pictures.

In other big news, I have officially decided to return to ACA for a second year after summer break (I’m sure no one saw THAT one coming).  I’m quite excited to be able to continue teaching these students, reaching out in various ministry opportunities, and strengthening relationships.  I will also be returning a bit earlier than initially planned in order to begin a summer science course.  So, come the first of June, I’ll be back in the states—reunited with friends and family. Ahh… life is looking good.

Long Overdue...

Whereas last term I neglected to blog some weeks because I felt there wasn’t that much going on, this term I am neglecting to blog many weeks because there is TOO MUCH going on.  I can’t say which I prefer more.  The slow pace of last term was different and quite nice once I got used to it, but then again, I am a LaPlue, and we LaPlue’s seem to thrive upon packed schedules. 

The past two weeks have been truly great.  I have begun music lessons with Ibukun, and I’m LOVING it. He’s a great kid and he loves God and he loves music. It’s a beautiful combo that Downs Syndrome only enhances.  He has a lot of potential that is not being tapped into right now because of the lack of therapy opportunities in Nigeria and the below-par special education services.  I seriously wish that I could do more practically to help maximize his potential. If nothing else, at least we have a grand time together for an hour a week praising God and learning a bit about instruments and rhythm. 

Last week in Bible, we read and discussed the story of the 10 plagues in Egypt and the Passover.   It is such a powerful story that so clearly illustrates the might and mercy of our God. The kids were super engaged in the excitement of the story.  Near the end of one class, when I was describing God’s instructions to put blood on the doorpost, one little Indian girl, Namita, raised her hand and asked in a very serious manner, “So, that’s what we should go home and do? We should kill a sheep and put the blood over our door to protect us from death?”  Though the question might initially raise a chuckle, it also conveyed to me the amazing faith of children.  Namita was hanging onto every word and believing so completely in this story of God’s power that she was ready to immediately act upon whatever instruction God was giving. If only we older folks could embrace such a child-like faith.

That same day in Bible, I was approached by another girl who, with tears in her eyes, told me that many of her desired friends were being very unkind to her. Our memory verse for the week was Nahum 1:7-- “The Lord is good: he protects his people in times of trouble; he takes care of those who turn to him.” Though intellectually behind her peers (hence one of the causes for the bullying), this girl, who we’ll call Esther, displayed some serious deep thinking when she asked, “Ms. Lee Anne, if God is good, why is it that some people have to go through really hard times?” Struck by the profundity of this little girl’s question, I quickly asked God to speak through me as I opened my mouth. “Well Esther,” I began, “Which is better: to be rich, or to really know God?” Esther quickly responded, “To know God.” “And which is better: to be healthy, or to know God?” Esther’s answer was the same. Finally, I asked, “Which is better: to have many friends, or to know God,” to which she replied, “To know God.”  I then attempted to explain how I think that since God knows that knowing Him is way more important than riches, or health, or even friends, sometimes he allows those things to be taken away if it will allow us to know Him better. I then added, “You know, Esther, God doesn’t just want you to know about him. Did you know that He loves you so much that He wants to be your best friend?” Esther eyes lit up and a grin started to spread over her face. “And when the God of the universe is your best friend, and you really know how much he loves you, the fact that some other people aren’t nice to you will seem really insignificant.” When Esther left me that day, her beautiful smile displayed awe and excitement at such a thought.  For indeed, it is an awesome thought, a wonderful thought, a life-changing thought. 

Last Sunday was a fantastic day.  Church was great—a round table discussion about how one’s passion for God and others works out in everyday life. After church, we headed over to the Mission for the Deaf, which was a beautiful experience. Though it was a rather primitive looking compound for the 160ish students, it was full of joy—which I think is way better than material wealth. I felt very welcomed and truly enjoyed meeting many of the folks there. We enjoyed it so much that we invited the older group of girls and guys to come over Friday for a Movie night. 

So, last night, 65 young men and women came to our compound who could neither hear nor speak—except through sign language. We watched “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” (with subtitles, of course) and snacked on popcorn and drinks.  I questioned at first whether they would “get” what was going on in the movie as much as a person with fine hearing. My concern was put to rest when we got the scene in which Aslan was put to death on the stone table. The room was deathly still as all watched with anticipation to see what would happen.  The room remained silent until Aslan appeared again, having risen from the dead to conquer evil. At that point the room erupted in clapping and other various audible signs of excitement.  It was awesome. After the movie, we hung around for a bit “talking” with several of the girls through an interpreter and learning a bit of sign language ourselves. We hope to continue building relationships with these guys through various events and casual visits to their mission. They’re a ton of fun and I think we have a lot to learn from them. 

I think that brings you up to speed on the most exciting things that have been taking place around here. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m afraid that I’m secretly beginning to love Nigeria.