;)
Somewhere, somehow, somebody must have kicked you around some; tell me why you want to lay there and revel in your abandon;
Honey, it don't make no difference to me, baby...
My friend Kelley is probably going to be cross with me for not using the Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers version of Refugee.. I mean we DID go to the show together around the time I started writing this - which was sadly.. several months ago. However, I was desperately in need of a strong female voice while writing and I love covers of songs I grew up with. Love ya Kels!
Here we go...As everyone knows, the kids and I had a very, very, very extended summer holiday due to some unforeseen "circumstances" in Nigeria and West Africa as a whole. And by "circumstances", I mean EBOLA.
After a glorious summer in Pennsylvania, Cape Cod, and Houston, we returned to Lagos well rested and ready to start school in mid-August as we have for 3 years now. Although Ebola had already been in the news for several weeks (and with panic-driven coverage in the US), I felt it was just another hazard that came with the assignment. As I flippantly told both family and friends, "you know, we are much more likely to get malaria, typhoid, or tuberculosis at this point". It sounds bizarre when you say it out loud but it is (was), truly, the reality of our situation. E had also been in Lagos for several weeks and felt the overall risk was low. "If it is safe for him, then it is safe for us", I continually said to our family and friends - and myself.
Within minutes of arriving home, E told us the school had delayed opening by two weeks due to several cases of Ebola that had surfaced in Lagos. Worried - but not overly so, we hung around the house for a few days, recovered from jet lag, attended some (slightly unsettling) Ebola-related safety meetings and decided to "hunker down" elsewhere for a bit. Not wanting to deal with jet lag again or watch the kids play minecraft (groan) for two straight weeks, I opted to take the kids to Dublin and London for a holiday - making lemonade out of lemons - as I told myself (again).
What I didn't tell the children was how I was secretly panicked that an evacuation would occur while we were gone and we would never see our house again. I actually scurried around our flat, tiptoeing in a frenzied state - if that is at all possible - under the cover of night, in an effort to Pack Or Protect our most treasured possessions; simultaneously purging inconsequential items and cursing myself for bringing so many special things to a obviously hazardous place. Baby blankets, photo albums, our wedding video (gads.. on VHS!), jewelry, - even love letters. I ziplocked it all and put it in two piles - what I could take to the UK and what E could carry out should he be evacuated. Then I squirreled half of it away in a huge trunk (and out of sight of my children) and told my nanny what to do should ALL HELL BREAK LOOSE. She cried (and cried) and said she was sure she would never see us again.
Fastforward two weeks and all was well. E had organized some beautiful hotels, with access to parks and the best sight-seeing. We scored tickets to the Harry Potter WB Studio Tour (swoon!) and The Lion King in London and did nothing but eat, drink, and see the sights (Pics here!). Family and friends were relieved we were no longer in Lagos and we soaked up every last bit of it until school was ready to open.
At that time, there were still active Ebola cases in Lagos and the risks in Sierra Leone, Liberia, and Guinea had increased exponentially. Despite concerns from my family and friends (some more overt than others), we felt good about returning to Lagos (i.e., our HOME). We even snapped the all too normal "First Day of School!" pictures. Had I known that on the Second day, the Minister of Education was going shut down Every. Single. School in the Entire. Country... I would have gone back to London for an indulgent Round 2.
It was a crushing blow. The kids came home frazzled - giving us the play by play about "the government men" that appeared on campus with papers demanding the students be sent home (at 12noon) without any warning. After having spent almost 3 weeks in limbo, we were now facing 7 (SEVEN!) weeks of virtual classroom - something I had little to no experience with.
Sidetracked once again, we hunkered down at home, shaking our heads in disbelief. We watched the news - but we also watched the Ebola numbers climb - including new cases in new areas. Many of my friends had never returned from their home country and some had decided not to return to Lagos at all - difficult news to swallow for the kids and me. We lose a lot of friends in this life, but we always get to say goodbye - in person. It was hard to accept we may not see some special people in our life for years to come - all due to an illness most people hadn't heard of in 30 years.
After several days of soul searching and talking to some very special people in my life - the ones you trust implicitly - the ones who tell you to be Safe no matter what the consequences, we made the difficult decision to leave once again, this time to Houston. Telling my family was met with relief. Telling my friends here was, at times, met with something else. Not everyone was in a position to leave and since we were not under evacuation, it was still an optional decision. My daughter was particularly sad - having just returned to all the special things she is forced to separate from over the summer - dolls and games, blankies and bears. At a precocious 9 and a half, I often forget she is still a little girl, whose baby-pink-meets-pre-tween-purple-bedroom is her Universe. At 7 and a half, my son, as always, was a bit more complacent. As long as his world (Mom-Dad-Kerrigan-Lego.. possibly in that order..) is intact, he does not require much else.
For me, those days are now a blur. Packing, researching, explaining, defending, crying, worrying, and even a bit of lying. Truth be told.. there was a lot of lying. I lied to the nanny that we would be back in "a few weeks" while I was secretly packing fleece jackets and boots in case we spent Christmas in Boston. I lied to my friends and family when I said the driver behind our decision was the school closure when I was actually terrified of being quarantined in a Nigerian hospital or worse - having my child quarantined without me. I lied to the children when I said we would be gone only a short while when I was secretly calling schools about enrollment and polling friends for real estate contacts. I continually lied to myself about how great another trip to Houston would be despite the jet lag, being without my husband, without childcare, not owning a car, or a house and having no idea how to homeschool my kids.
A lot of people have asked why we didn't choose a location where we had family to lean on, at which point I was forced to admit the truth. I was absolutely convinced that Ebola would drop kick Lagos into the last century and my husband would be evacuated - catching up with us in Houston where we would just start over.
Four weeks, several thousands of dollars, (and a dress size) later.. and we were back in Lagos.
Our time in Houston was rough - to say the least. I am not sure I could even recap it effectively here. They were Dark Days. There were a lot of tears. There was a lot of Wine. I put on the brave face during the day and rode the emotional roller coaster of an insomniac at night - talking to friends and confidants, scouring the web for more Ebola stories, cursing the globe for not paying closer attention. And the children hated me. Truly hated me. They will forever refer to that time as "Mom School".
Looking back, I know I made the best decision I could with the information that I had available. Our goal was to keep our children safe in an unsafe situation and that is what we did. What I wasn't prepared for was how absolutely out of place I felt in a place that I typically refer to as my "home county". For the past three years, I have breezed through Houston, catching up with friends, getting my fix at my favorite restaurants and with my favorite people, hitting that spot so to speak.. and enjoying every last experience one can squeeze into a summer holiday. However.... Coming home unexpectedly in the wake of a global fatal contagion? When all your friends work? And all your kids' friends are enrolled in school? And everyone is re-starting life after a long summer? Living in a hotel? With no childcare? Without a partner? And being from THAT COUNTRY? OVER THERE? THE ONE WITH THE EBOLA?.... Not Exactly a Homecoming.
I did have some heroes - a select group of amazing friends that went above and beyond. Some were other "refugees" from Lagos. Some were confidants living far away. Some watched the kids so I could go grocery shopping or see the dentist. Some took me out for Tex Mex and let me drink my fears away.
Kelley took me to see Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers and then he sang Refugee. And we danced, and danced, and danced. We danced like fools.