Sunday

The chapel at TCNN is a very striking building, inside and out.  The services can be equally of note.  I've often heard music or preaching at our house during the week as with open windows and the Nigerian fondness for volume any service or practice is quite easily heard across the campus.  Yesterday I attended the Sunday service for the first time.

After struggling to arrange a suitable headcovering with a piece of cloth which matched my Nigerian outfit though was too small for easy tying, we walked across to the chapel.

The building is large and airy, the windows wide open -  we picked our seats at the back for coolness.  The service was lively and not too loud (that could have been because the sound system did not seem particularly reliable) but the music was good.  The whole thing was led by one of the students and the place was packed, predominately with men but there were a fair number of women and children too.  Most of the children had attended Sunday school, 7:30-8:30, so were excused the actual service and either went home or played quietly outside.  Three choirs participated, two with beautiful African-style acapella music, the third with guitars, keyboard and drumkit sang Majesty which brought back memories of DEC in Scotland although with rather more harmonising.

A one point there was a request for anyone worshipping for the first time to stand up.  Fraser, Ruth and I duly stood (James, though better, was recuperating at home).  We were then welcomed by the whole congregation and worship team singing and embellishing a chorus that centred round the words Worship the Lord and Welcome to TCNN chapel.

Collection was taken with a difference too.  Instead of sitting and quietly waiting for a bag or plate to be passed round, we were prepared by being told how good it was to dance before the Lord.  We were even given some tips on dance steps and then invited to dance down to the front to present our offerings.  Unfortunately our offering was only in one note so Fraser alone could go along the aisle.  I didn't notice him doing much dancing but I'd better not say too much as it'll be my turn next week.

Later in the afternoon Ruth and I decided to climb the hill up to the huge water tank that overlooks the college and supplies most of Bukuru.  It was a beautiful afternoon and a spectacular view from the top across the rock formations and flatlands of the Plateau. We've been in Nigeria for nearly four months now and thought we were pretty much acclimatised but just those extra feet knocked us both for six.  We felt dizzy and headachey with the altitude and had to climb down sooner than we'd intended.  Perhaps it'll take longer than we expected to get properly accustomed to living nearly 4000 feet above sea level.  Ruth did see a bluetailed skink on the way down which was rather exciting, especially as at first we thought it was an exotic looking snake.

One of the delights of moving to TCNN has been the clear night sky, especially when there's been no power.  Recently the view hasn't been as clear - the harmattan is bringing in the dust and the stars are often fuzzy.  It's also drying everything.  I feel as if my brain is shrivelling (no cheap remarks please) and my skin certainly is.  The challenge now is to get the children to drink enough so they don't dessicate too.

Life in Bukuru

Last month when little Ellie Fitzsimmons was ill I sympathised with her mother, Angie, when she had to sit up with her.  Now I too know the delights of sitting up with someone who's ill when the power goes off in the middle of the night.  I enjoy candlelight but it becomes somewhat worrying when there's less than an inch left, I didn't find a shop that sold more yesterday and I have a son who can vomit into a bucket when he can see where it is but has yet to try when the lights are out.  All part of life in Nigeria.  We're just hoping it's something he ate and not a bug that will sweep through the family.  At least if the water tank starts overflowing with no warning at 2am this morning I'm already awake to close off the pipe.

Apart from some teething troubles life in Bukuru is pleasant.  We do have an issue with hot water pressure but we have cold running water in the house and the leak in the mains which, when the water is actually flowing, provides us with our own stream does not appear to affect the filling of our water tank.  There are no mosquito screens on the doors which means we can't have them open to let the breeze in but we do have fine mesh on the window screens.  There are large gaps under and around the doors and there was a mouse in one of the rooms but then it could run under the door and outside again before I could catch it and had to decide what to do with it next.  We can't use the garage because of a beesnest in the walls but we do have tangerine, avocado, mango and cashew trees in our huge garden.  Above all, the weather is lovely and we know that God has put us here.

Moving in

Yesterday James and I were at school for 7am to prepare for the 8th grade pancake breakfast.  By 12:30 we were moving in to our house at TCNN.

Our house

It still looks like a builders' yard outside and there are plenty of things that need fixing inside but we slept here last night are enjoying finally being able to get all the suitcases unpacked.  It's been about 5 months since we moved out of our home in Dingwall, James hasn't been in a proper bedroom since but now he no longer has to sleep in a tent or  utility room.  It's going to take weeks, if not months, before everything's sorted out - the maintenence department at the college is not known for its speediness or efficiency, but we can make do.  Having said that, we were taken by surprise when all the lights went out in the evening.  We shouldn't have been having lived in Nigeria since August but we've been spoiled by the generator at our previous compound and I hadn't fished out the torches.  We managed and it was a good opportunity to see the beautiful night sky.  After the tall trees, security lights and high walls of the compound in Jos, we  truly felt we were in Africa as we walked home from tea under the stars and the smiling crescent moon.

View over police barracks from back door

View from back door

View over TCNN from front door

Living room

We've been struck by the warmth of the welcome of the college community.  Two families came to welcome us yesterday, another invited us for tea for which I was extremely grateful as we have hardly any food in the house.  In fact, apart from breakfast, we don't have to prepare a meal until Tuesday by which time I should know my way around better.  Even the dog is settling in.  After a scary experience yesterday with the exuberantly friendly dog next door, today they have made friends.  I think there's even a slight case of hero-worship going on.

Besa and his new friend K9

Piping

View from the school

This morning we had an even earlier start than usual as James had been asked to play his bagpipes at 7:30am at the school run by the Mashaiah Foundation (where women, children and orphans affected by HIV/AIDS are supported).  The school had been reading a book featuring a Scottish boy who wore a kilt and played the pipes so Mary Beth Oyebado took the initiative and invited James to demonstrate.

Waiting for the pipes

At 7:20 we arrived to find most of the children enthusiastically singing whilst they waited.  Their volume easily rivalled that of the bagpipes but even so a few still put hands over their ears when James started to play (his playing was actually very good).  I sat there proudly and somewhat moved as the sounds of Scotland rang out over Jos and seconded the shout of "Yes" from the children when asked if they wanted to hear more.

James asked me not to post a photo of him actually playing so here's one of Ruth in her outfit for the school Crazy Dress Up party last week.

Football again

About a year ago I attended my first football match.  My abiding memory, apart from the warm welcome and hospitality from Ross County, was of absolutely freezing feet.  Although I'm a bit concerned about setting an annual precedent, this morning I attended another - James' second match for the Hillcrest Middle School team.  Comparisons can be invidious.  Suffice it to say that today I was sitting in a sleeveless dress enjoying the warm harmattan breeze instead of being wrapped up in a thick winter coat with long scarf, hat and two pairs of gloves.  Unfortunately the score for James' team was not as favourable as it was for Ross County a year ago (1:1); Hillcrest lost 4:1 but then they were playing high school boys.

The tension!

Apart from watching football I'm working away at my Hausa.  I'm at the stage where there are so many words fluttering around my head it takes a while to catch the right ones, put them in the correct order and then attempt an approximation of appropriate tone and pronunciation.  It will get easier with practice and teacher Jummai is a very patient, good-humoured and wise woman.  At the moment I can say a few things that I've done, the same things that I shall do but not what I'm actually doing.  The excitement for next week will be learning the present tense.

Another excitement (apart from the grade 8 pancake breakfast on Saturday morning) will be moving into our house in Bukuru.  If all goes to plan we hope to be sleeping there next Saturday night.  All the major work has been done, it just needs to be cleaned.  We're also intending to build a fence around the property to keep our dog in, other dogs out and to separate us from the police training school right behind.  This may not be finished before we move next week as we're looking at alternatives - even in Nigeria it costs an awful lot to put up a fence.

Bricc arts

Today James played in the Middle School football team's first match against a different school.  Fraser and Ruth headed over to support him but I had somewhere else to go.  BRICC's football match was last Saturday when Christians and Muslims met on neutral ground.  This week, more attractive to those of us who aren't that keen on football, was the BRICC arts, poetry and music session.

One of the benefits of living in the Highlands of Scotland is the Gaelic culture.  This afternoon reminded me very much of the traditional ceilidh when anyone who wants can get up and do a turn, although here the theme of peace ran strongly through the programme.  Poetic Oracle (aka David in the lime green shirt) was leading the activities and in true Nigerian fashion announced that we would all introduce ourselves, or rather would have to talk to the person next to us and introduce him (at the start Ruth Beattie and I were the only women there and white at that so we did stand out somewhat).  My heart quailed but I found I was talking to a very interesting artist called Rotimi.  He teaches art in his studio and many of the paintings on display this afternoon had been created by his students.  Peace work to him is similar to the process of producing a picture.  You take many different colours and use them together to make something beautiful.

In our pairs we went up to the front to talk about our new friend.  I was quite surprised when Poetic Oracle then held my marriage up as an example of peace work in action.  Fraser's Scottish, I'm English: to him we married outside our own cultures and so have proved it's possible to build bridges between different peoples.  I've never seen it like that but am quite happy to be used in any helpful way.

After introductions we split into groups to discuss the meanings of the words each group was given.  Mine got Trust, Trauma and Peace.  No peace can be built without trust and the right attitude of heart that focusses on healing peace and not on divisive trauma.  Listening to these Nigerians, some of whom have been driven out of their neighbourhoods by the crisis, talk about working together for peace is very encouraging.

"The Chairman", BRICC stalwart and my group's leader

Finally, after reporting back to the whole, the first acts of rhythmic poems on peace and Jos were performed.  Others brought up their guitars, one man had a stringed gourdlike instrument which made the most beautiful sounds as he sang hauntingly to it.  You did not need to understand the words to hear the longing for healing, rebuilding and peace.  It was much better than a football match.