Dear Village People who Live in My Head,

One week on the new job and…I can’t believe I get to do this for a living!!!! In a Nigeria that forces employees to think within a tiny square inside the proverbial box, I am encouraged to dream without shapes. Where employers normally respond with a , “…that’s how we do it here! Just do it!”, my bosses say, “…do you have alternatives to our way?” For the first time in my working life, I am encouraged to colour as though lines are figments of a staid imagination. ‘Dream big and work them into reality’ seems to be the motto at my new office…and its all geared towards making a difference.

Charity work never looked this good.

In my time here though, in addition to considering the purchase of leggings, spandex panties, an obligatory red cape and other accessories in the standardized Super Hero Toolkit necessary for my job, I’ve noticed that another compulsory purchase for life in the Niger delta must be this; two white handkerchiefs.

Now let me tell you something you may not know about Nigeria’s Niger-delta region; a party is always imminent. Two gongs of one local instrument, the sweet strains of a flute…and/or the haunting notes of highlife music, and it’s on! Everyone starts tapping feet, swinging hips and releasing white handkerchiefs into the surprised atmosphere! Mother’s Day at church was no exception. Don’t watch these Ijaw women; you think tying two heavily embellished wrappers each weighing the size of a baby dolphin (potential hyperbole) around their waists would keep said waist from twerking like an angry Miley??! I think not! There we were in church, having a somber but honest thanksgiving service in honour of our exceptional mums, when the standard Anglican choir gave way to the youth band…and it was on like the referee blew the whistle! Men and women alike waving white handkerchiefs in the air in an excited hurrah, women engaged in mature twerking, men pretending to be somber yet clicking knees and tapping toes in their breezy Etibos and hats. Too much fun!

I love being a Southerner.

Its been a week of largely ups, a few downers. Like the day my car refused to start after work…I left my headlights on and it drained poor Ladybird’s battery. The swiftness with which I played the damsel-in-distress card made me thank Jehovah for making me a woman. “Do I have a spanner? That lil ole thing in the back? I got one of those. I think.” *giggles, bats eyelashes*. Lol! I almost actually L.O.L’d when one guy that stopped to help, in flexing his muscles, replied to my “I have a problem” with a “You don’t have any problems, I’m here”. Got to love the masculine ego, such a useful tool. Ha!

Another downer being the security situation, with safety drills and daily warnings from the parental unit, it’s little surprise that anyone that drives remotely slowly in front of me is a confirmed armed robber, kidnapper, militant AND ninja in my terrified mind. This level of fear is honestly, dumb. Tell that to me.

But besides those minority reports, I’m doing well. Adjusting to life away from Lagos, although still hearing random songs on the radio that remind me of my Lagos crew and sobbing softly on my drive home from work (that may or may not be a lie). REGARDLESS, I am incredibly grateful to God for this new life, new direction, new opportunity, new people I’ve been blessed with. Right now, I could not be happier.

[Universe, you’ve been challenged. *throws down gauntlet* ;)]

I hope this message meets everyone very well, disturbingly happy…or relatively content at least.

Sincerely,

Wendelyn