Dawg Sitting

A couple I met here, Iain and Judie, got me very drunk one night and talked me into caring for their two dogs while they vacationed in Malaysia for a month.  I enthusiastically agreed and thought that staying in their handsome, old Victoria Island home would be much more fun than living in my pokey apartment.  I made all arrangements while under the influence of about a gallon of my favourite Shiraz.  

Despite waking the next day with a hint of regret I embraced the house swap.  I met the dogs and we were a match.  They have a large garden so don’t require much walking and the live in maid basically takes care of them.  I’m just around to keep them company.  I moved in one week ago and have been quite comfortable.  

The dogs are great and I feel like I have a couple of companions while completing my work in the evenings.  They laze around on ‘their’ couches most of the day and let me know when they need the loo, water, snacks etc.  I have also embraced the house.  I’ve been cooking more in the large, well-stocked kitchen – which makes a change to my student-esque fridge.  I had a successful dinner party and I’ve slept like a baby every night.  The house lacks a pool but I can nip back to my place for that at the weekends.

The house is an Addax Oil house so is very secure.  It’s gated and has a security office, radio link to the company and large, reinforced security doors externally and internally.  It’s strange though that I feel safer in my wee place, which has less security but more people around generally.  If I lived in the house permanently I think I would end up feeling rather stranded, as if on my own little island perhaps.  It makes me wonder if this is the experience of other expats in Lagos.

Tune In, Tune Out

http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20120508-why-your-brain-loves-to-tune-out

Amazing little experiment and article which makes me feel like like I have a turbo charged, evolutionary miracle in my head.  I must remember to eat more oily fish - keep the old thing turning.

114 Years Young

I saw this video and couldn’t decide if I was horrified or happy for the one hundred and fourteen year old Mrs Okawa. 

I’m not a person who plans ahead and certainly don’t think about the days when I may not have my own teeth or bladder control but this story actually sent flutterings of fear around my nerve endings.
 

Nobody wants to die but is there a time to go?  Is it better to pop off before old age becomes senility and before you become unable to stop your face caving in on itself?  

My Grandfather died recently at the ripe old age of ninety two.  He was so ready to go and was actually slightly pissed off when he opened his eyes and realised he was still in his house.  Not because he was depressed or suicidal; just because he was done.  His body was used up and he had lived a full life.  He was content and didn’t want to be a burden on anyone anymore.  

Others would say life is precious.  So even when your face looks like a prune and you practically cough your own lungs up every morning; every breath should be appreciated.

This video has reminded me that I make my own world and that every day free of incontinence, receding gums, crinkly skin and a hunchback is one worth appreciating and making the most of.  Whether I make it to tomorrow or until I’m one hundred I will be happy!

Weddings - Lagos Styleeee

I was invited to my colleague Sarah’s wedding last weekend.  She is the admin assistant at work and  told me that if I didn’t come to her service she wouldn’t do any favours for me e.g. filing or telephone calls or letters!  She was joking but had a serious glint in her eye when she said this! So I thought I had better make the effort.

Effort it was!  The venue was a two hour drive away and I was told to add anything from one to four hours onto that estimation to account for the hectic, abysmal Lagos traffic.  This didn’t amuse me. Also at Nigerian weddings everybody wears the same material, chosen by the bride and groom.  Sarah’s theme was purple and silver and she made available her choice of fabric for her guest to buy.  Of course I didn’t get to her in time and the material had run out.  Soooooo I donned the one purplish dress I could find in my wardrobe and set off on the dusty road.

I brought supplies such as magazines, water, tea in a flask, my Ipod and a pillow.  Luckily they were not required.  The journey took less than two hours and I ended up giving three other people a ride to the ceremony.  The journey was quite entertaining; we sang along to Lauren Hill’s Jesus music and chatted about school and other things.  As we got further and further out of town, the roads got worse and we passed through various villages and small towns.  It got more rural and run down.  Surprisingly, people seemed happier and more laid back than in Ikoyi and Lagos. 

We paused in traffic at a roundabout upon which a large statue had been erected.  I craned to catch a glimpse of who it might have been.  All of a sudden two large hands and a shouting face slammed and pressed against the passenger window.  A man was shouting but smiling at me.  I almost hit the roof with fright.  The man was half begging, half trying to tell me about the statue I think.  His friends joined him and quickly a small entourage formed around the car.  Thankfully the traffic moved just as they started taking photographs with camera phones.  I was reminded that it is still pretty unusual for ‘oyibos’ or white folk to be out and about generally in the more rural parts in and around Lagos.  I was a novelty.

Eventually we pulled up outside Sarah’s chosen church.  Many people had made it from school which was lovely.  We took photos and then went into the church.  It was a large hall with a stage rather than a pew or pulpit and there were huge speakers everywhere.  Singers sang gospel and photographers swarmed the crowd.  I stood out so was snapped a million times without the grace of any warning.  Blinded by the lights and slightly deafened by the hymns, eventually, we all sat and the service began.

It was upbeat and joyful and it was lovely to see Sarah and her husband beam at each other all the way through the ceremony.  They were clearly so in love and excited to be committing to each other.  The service was religious but still very different to any church wedding I have ever been to in the UK.  There was lots of advice given to the couple about how to look after each other in the bedroom and how to get the family started; totally shocking to me but HIGHLY amusing.  I stifled my giggles until outside the church, where everyone was having a laugh about it.  Apparently that is normal but this pastor had taken it quite far.  We all agreed advising a woman about what to wear to bed was unnecessary but hilarious.

The day continued at a hall near the church.  We danced, sang and listened to some more pastors say their thing.  We danced Sarah into the hall and the celebration was in full swing.  Unfortunately the lack of a toilet and the mounting traffic on the road home meant my party and I left rather early and missed the food.  Overall the experience was great but the next Nigerian wedding I go to will be the type you need a golden ticket to get in to and are given a digital camera as a wedding favour!

Dedicated To Arthur

My Grandfather died on the 16^th January this year.  I made a trip home to Scotland to pay my last respects to him.   His name was Arthur.  I’ve written down some of what he meant to me and a bit about his life. 

 I enjoyed listening to stories from his childhood.  Listening to him tell tales from the High Street and the Canon Gate in Edinburgh was fascinating.  Tales of happy times, the sorrows he experienced, the love he had for his family and the hilarious tales of causing trouble with local police and running wild through Edinburgh with his chums kept me entertained over the years.

His war stories often entertained me too.  Tales of camaraderie, men fighting for a cause and the various jobs he performed while in the RAF.  His war stories often also brought a tear to his eye as he remembered the harsher side of this time in his life.  The war had a big impact on him and his time in the RAF informed a lot of how he lived the rest of his life.  It made him a man who was relentless and unwavering in his opinions and convictions but who underneath it all was caring and compassionate and who strived, in his own way, to do the right thing.

He always felt let down by the government by the lack of support servicemen received after returning from the front line and this feeling remained a constant throughout his life and informed his politics.  From these no one could hide!!!  Believe me!  He was a staunch SNP supporter who would have loved to have been around for the upcoming referendum.

I visited him over Christmas.  He was always happy to see me but told me point blank this time that I was not getting him out of the house.  I wasn’t happy about this but succumbed to his wishes.  He had grown tired and enjoyed the comfort and warmth of his house.  To the end - he refused to move.  Advice was given to us that he should be moved to a hospice to ensure he remained comfortable but Arthur was adamant he wanted to spend his last days in his house.  My family all shared responsibility and made sure he was cared for around the clock. My sister, who also lives abroad, managed to make it home to help care for him in last few days.  He affectionately told her she was the best nurse in the world.

The clearest and happiest memories I have of my Grandad are the times I spent with him, on my own, on our little day trips in and around Edinburgh.  We often went to the Gyle, shopping, or to a café or restaurant for lunch.  We often just drove around because I had gotten us lost.  I’m unsure whether he actually enjoyed the driving parts as he regularly told me to slow down, watch out or mind the light.  He said my driving of his wheelchair was just as bad as my driving of the car.  However, we would chat and discuss anything from families, to politics, the Queen and the BBC.  We would put the world to rights and happily disagree on various things. 

I spoke to my Grandad on the phone a few days before he passed.  He made sure he told me that he loved me and that I wasn’t to come home, in fact, he said he would be angry at me if I came home.  In our usual fashion we didn’t agree - obviously.

Arthur was something different to all of us; his children, his daughter in law, his son in law and his Grandchildren.  We all have different memories of him but the one thing we have in common is that Arthur loved us all and was proud of us all. He wanted us all to have a happy life and pursue our dreams.  He didn’t want us to grieve too much over him.  In fact he specifically told us not to in a letter he penned a few years back.  He ensured we knew what to do when he passed and how much he cared for us.  This is typical of Arthur.

My Grandad had a strong faith and he wholeheartedly believed he was going to meet his wife and his daughter in heaven.  He imagined them welcoming him with open arms and them all having a good catch up over a cup of tea somewhere out there.  He wasn’t scared, worried or regretful.  He was at peace and happy that he had made it to 92.  

So this is goodbye to a loving, cherished Grandfather.  May he rest in peace.

Life Goes On

I went home to Scotland for Christmas this year.  I was looking forward to seeing my Dad, brother, family and friends but this year I was also slightly upset that I would miss all of my new friends and ‘family’ in Nigeria.  I was going to miss some amazing nights out, a 30^th and many opportunities to develop friendships while people are out of work for the festivities. 

This is a stark contrast to how I felt about going home last year in December. Last year I was so desperate to get home I was bursting with anticipation.  I had had mixed feelings towards Lagos in my first four months and had to get some perspective.  I had imagined a welcome party, evenings on the town, my friends and family bombarding the house just to see me and find out about my travels.  The reality was that although people were excited to see me, they had other things to do!  I was bitterly disappointed throughout my stay because I realised that life goes on for even your closest peeps while you’re out of the picture.  People still grow and change and move on with their lives.  No one waits around to find out what you are doing. 

Lesson learnt – you’ve got to LIVE where you live.