"Bohemian Like You"

'So what do you do? Oh yeah, I wait tables too. No I haven't heard your band. 'Cause you guys are pretty new. 
But if you dig on Vegan food. Well come over to my work. I'll have them cook you something that you'll really love...'

So I've decided that ExPat life is basically like College.

Or "Uni" as I have started to say because everyone around me is European or Australian and only Americans with undergraduate degrees call their post high-school years "college". But you get the idea. "College" (cue "Blutarski")- as in the four years that most of us spent away from home and with a freedom only dreamt about while watching bad American movies. My college life was stellar actually. An experience that most of my peers had but one that all 'Batesies' assume was ours and ours alone. Off on my own for the first time; an adult with adult choices and responsibilities; the world was my oyster, blah blah blah. 

But seriously, I find myself drawn back to college experiences every day while living here. I think it started with the housing. Our community does not live on a "camp" like other big companies here so where you live is a critical factor based on your family life and your interests. There are some family-friendly compounds and some more suitable for empty-nesters. But you don't really get a choice -  rather you have to strongly state your preferences and hope like hell you get what you want. My college was a very small community in the midst of a huge housing crisis - my class holding the record year for both applications and acceptances. Despite the campus being a few square miles, where you lived meant everything. The co-ed dorm? the jock dorm? the stoner dorm? the chemical free dorm? the all-freshman dorm? The 1st question anyone ever asked you was where you lived and your answer basically dictated your friends and your life for the next four years.

Socially, the vibe is very similar here. Most of us chose this life and yet other than a short "looksee" visit (Prospective Student Visit? what was that called?) and some online research, we have a very skewed idea of what life is like - until we get here. Then it's all about where you live, making friends, figuring out how to get around, where to shop, how to manage your money; you are basically starting over. You feel like The New Kid and basically like a goof most of the time - as if everyone knows what they're doing except you. 

When I was in school and there was, ahem, no internet (gads!) or email (whot??) parties were advertised via "table mail". This was basically a pile of mini posters that were left on the dining tables in the ONE cafeteria that 1500 students used every night. It was our only link to the social scene (the Social Network if you will!). If a party was being held, it was advertised as "table mail". Larger posters would dot the campus but table mail was the one sure-fire way to advertise since everyone had to eat and not everyone went to the gym. The best part about table mail was that the quality of the artwork was unquestionably linked to the quality of the party especially since there were lots of 'ahtsy' types at my school.

Sadly, "Table Mail" went away once everyone got all green-minded and felt it was a waste of paper. That sucked. Also the internet arrived, which sucked for a while too since you still had to go to the computer center!

In the housing compound I live in now, parties are often advertised by a flyer pinned to the cork board by the elevator or posted by the clubhouse. The first time I saw this, I felt a twinge of emotion. Awww.. Table Mail! Of course the community has email and a facebook page and a website, but I still drive to the different compounds to post my party flyers because I feel we are all drowning in email and a poster at least shows some effort!

When I first arrived in Lagos, a familiar conversation would take place with anyone I met: When did you arrive? Where did you live before? How many kids do you have? How long will you be here?

Scene Set: Fall 1991, Lewiston Maine, a dark musty basement party smelling of keg beer: "So where are you living? What year are you? Where are you from? What's your major? What prep school did you go to? We should hook up some time..."

Now don't get me wrong - Lagos is treating us well and we are enjoying ourselves. And there is tons to do, and lots of fabulous parties! But I am constantly amazed at how life continues to throw us into situations that feel foreign but are actually just a do-over of a prior experience. I have moved countless times, said goodbye to friends, made new friends, learned and sadly, forgotten new languages. I have started over before and I'll do it again.

Today I saw some friends at the clubhouse. "So when do you leave on break? Where are you going? Do you still have your house? When will you be back? We should hook up some time".

At least I think it was today. 

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"I Know What I Know"

"I know what I know, I'll sing what I said; We come and we go, that's a thing that I keep in the back of my head" 

This weekend my fabulous stewardess left for the week to get married. Everyone who knows me knows this because I have been going on and on about it. Not so much because she is leaving me (for a whole week!) but because I am so excited for her. Also, she is leaving me for a Whole Week! 

It's unnatural really, my attachment to her. I ask the world of her every day and she gives it to me without pause. But she is anything but a servant - she is very strong headed and shares her opinions with me - daily, but that's what I like about her! The really odd thing is that when I worked full time and had 2 kids in 2 different schools and E traveled constantly, I still resisted getting a nanny. And yet living here and having help go hand in hand. I do know a few mothers who do not have a nanny or cook. Some have a maid that just cleans and irons, some have no help. But I just can't fathom it. This is mostly because my stewardess is so amazing (and my friends hate me for it). We originally hired her as our "stewardess" which means she does a bit of shopping and errand running, cooks a bit, and cleans a bit; basically a little of everything. But my Venus (yes I'm still using a pseudonym for her) does A LOT of everything!

Last week before she left town, she let me take her to the salon for a manicure and pedicure. She resisted at first by telling me there was a lady "under the bridge" who does pedicures for N1500 (the salon charges about N3500). I basically made her go under the guise that I had a party that night so I was going too. She still resisted the manicure until I told the ladies she was getting married - at which point we bullied her into getting acrylic nails!

I explained to the ladies that we wanted to sit together (side by side spa chairs) so we could talk. It was then that the woman asked me if Venus was "my brother's sister". I found this really interesting. Did she ask that because she knew she was my nanny/maid/stewardess but wasn't sure how to ask? Did she think the only way we could be related is if my brother was her husband? I just laughed and said, "Well, she's my everything" which always makes Venus laugh too. The woman looked intrigued and so I followed with "She's my right arm". I could tell that didn't translate very well! Finally I just explained that she takes good (very good!) care of us so it was my turn to treat her to something special.

Watching Venus get pampered was fun but I could tell she didn't like being badgered by the salon ladies (they had now moved on to pushing fake eye lashes on her) so I asked her a little bit about her fiance and the wedding.

Venus is from a large Muslim family. She has 8 siblings and her mother is her father's 'First Wife' which I understand to be a very important distinction. Her father had 2 more wives and about 20 more children. She has hundreds of cousins. They were all raised in Togo ("Togo North" as Venus says) which is not far from Lagos on the map but very very far when one takes a bus to get there. French is her native language.

10 years ago Venus had planned to marry a different man but he had converted to Christianity which her family was not happy about. By then, her sweet little daughter was already on the way - something I have to assume her family was not happy about either but I didn't pry. The details are a bit muddled after that but I understood the man had had many girlfriends and so the family agreed she should not marry him under any circumstances. (also interesting since Muslim men have many wives!) Ultimately she moved to Lagos with a newborn and has worked for herself ever since.

At some point Venus met her fiance who was also from Togo and from her village. She said he had asked to marry her when her daughter was first born, again when she was 5 and again when she was 8. She told him she wouldn't marry until she had her own house - one she has been building "little by little" in Togo. (I told you she was strong willed!) She said that she knows too many women who marry with nothing and end up with nothing. She has shown me the blue prints of her house and she is so proud! Eventually she must have felt confident in her house and her future as she finally said she would marry him - but only if she could finish her assignment in Lagos (i.e working for us).

When I first heard this, I felt terrible. I made it clear to her that she could move back to Togo at any time and her commitment to us should not be a factor in any way. She wouldn't hear of it - of course but I still felt bad. Now, I understand that working for us helps her secure a future for herself and her daughter- regardless of what her fiance brings to the table.

The wedding will be 3 days long and Venus has several traditional outfits to wear. There is a day of prayer followed by two days of dancing and feasting. She doesn't wear traditional muslim clothing in Lagos; in fact she loves blingy jeans and purses. But it was really fun to watch her bring home the fancy fabrics and show me how the tailor would sew them for her. She also bought lots of pins and jewelry to secure her head scarves. I lent her a sparkly purse and she found both shoes and a necklace to match it at the big market in Lagos. She was very excited!

After listening to her amazing story, I boldly asked if her fiance would take other wives, as he is Muslim too. She said there is a point in the ceremony where the Officiant asks if the man would like a "polygam or molygam" marriage. Apparently she told him that if he answered "Polygam", she would walk straight out of the church! And then she and all the ladies in the salon laughed really hard.

This is a woman that knows what she wants and I just love her for it! Even if she is leaving me for a Whole Week! ;)

You know the really amazing part? She asked her cousin to stay in her flat and work for me while she is gone.

 

 

 

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'4th of July - Asbury Park (Sandy)'

"Oh Sandy, the aurora is risin' behind us; the pier lights our carnival life forever.."

Last week in the midst of my usual list-making, event-planning madness, my friends and family back home were dealing with the stress, fear and uncertainty that can really only be understood by those who have experienced a hurricane for themselves. 'Nor Easters, tornadoes, flooding, earthquakes; every region in the US and around the globe has their Act of God. This one started out being called 'Frankenstorm' which at first was kinda witty since it was due to hit on Halloween, but it wasn't until they named it - "Sandy", and I started to track the storm path, that I really worried.

I have to say, there is something very unique about hurricanes that hit the Northeast. In the 20-something years I lived in Massachusetts, I experienced several dozen. As a kid, all you think about is school being cancelled (even better- destroyed!) and there was even an element of celebration - it was not uncommon to hunker down in the basement with your friends and neighbors for a "hurricane party". We were always outdoorsy, so the idea of camping out in the basement with your friends for days at a time with PB&J sandwiches and a flashlight was the most fun a bunch of 10 year olds could have.

Later, I experienced some much larger storms. More likely, you see the destruction more clearly because you are an adult. My grandmother and I survived Hurricane Bob in the summer of 1991- just before I went to college. I was living with her and working at the local mall. The storm took down the mall and my grandma and I hung out for several days with no power. The house was fine and it was mostly downed trees that caused the power outages but I do recall experiencing a new sense of panic at being responsible for my grandmother. As usual, she was the one who was calm, cool, and collected. We toasted english muffins on the gas stove (always get a gas stove!) and filled the toilets with water we had kept in the bathtub. She passed away about a year after that and I am still so grateful we had that time together.

In 2005, E and I sat in the country's worst gridlock for 27 hours with 9 month old Kerrigan when Hurricane Rita was a category 5 and headed straight for Houston. We, like thousands of other people only evacuated after having just witnessed the wrath of Katrina. I remember sitting in front of the TV watching a mother hand her baby to a total stranger who was lucky enough to board a bus. When Rita was coming, we threw what we could in the car and put everything else in trashbags. I didn't know which was worse, losing our house or the thought of walking to Dallas once the fuel ran out.

One of the hardest things about living outside your home country, or far away from your family, is feeling completely helpless when tragedy strikes. My immediate family is in Boston but we have extended family in New York and New Jersey and the stories and pictures have left me jaw dropped. My dad is a Red Cross volunteer and still working tirelessly in the NYC Command Center. He texted me that he had over 2000 people to feed the first day. It's been almost a week and most of my friends in Brooklyn and NJ still don't have power. I feel like a heel going on with my day - school pictures, party planning, coffees and play dates. I can give money to the Red Cross and encourage others to do so but it is a very helpless feeling. 

The most ironic part of it all is the overall fear my family felt for us when we chose to move to Nigeria. Eight months later and I'm the one who is concerned about their welfare and health.  

In the big picture, I know those towns will rebuild, and eventually the power will be restored. It's truly a miracle more people were not hurt or killed. It will just be a long road that will take time and patience and money. 

That is once we get past the election anyway.

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"You Wanna Freak Out.."

"Play it smart, soul intact; How you react, is what you'll get back..."

My previous post message still stands. And I am still caught in a whirlwind. In fact, our glorious 10 day holiday to South Africa (pics here!) feels more like someone hit the Pause button on a CD blaring speed metal music. But it was so lovely! So easy. So cheap. And it seems so long ago. But thankfully we indulged - big time. Enough to keep it (and a good 5 lbs) fresh in my memory. Gorgeous hotel, perfect tour guide, room service, champagne every night - even at lunch! Walks, hikes, whale watching, penguin cooing, cheetah petting, globe trotting. It was a dream that ended too soon and a perfect escape from the over-committed schedule I had carved out for myself just prior to leaving. 

While it was hard to leave my TO DO list behind (kick off party, halloween party, welcome coffees, facebook page, new website, Multicultural night..), the really challenging part was coming home 10 days after being off the grid, returning late on a Saturday night, unpacking, doing laundry and packing again for Dubai first thing Sunday morning. Now, I know that sounds ridiculous. I mean who would complain about going to shiny and clean Dubai over staying in Lagos? I'm not complaining but wow, am I exhausted. Because Dubai was, in a word, amazing. And not just the city itself - which does look amazing, (although I didnt see as much of it as I would like) but the people I met there. 

I went to Dubai for a workshop as part of my on-boarding training as the new 'welcome wagon' for E's company. For every international location the Company maintains an office and employs expats, there is a volunteer organization like the one I am leading. I basically spent 3 days and nights with 30 amazing women from all over the globe. Some had held the position at more than one location. Some, like me were new. Many were veteran expat wives with over 20 years of relocation experience. Some were first time expats who were just looking for something interesting to do and people to meet.

And there is so much to do. Because for me, the organization is, and should be so much more than a "welcoming committee". I spent hours in workshops learning about Career and Development training for trailing spouses, how to counsel unhappy, stressed, and depressed spouses, deal with segmented families whose children are in boarding school, cultural sensitivity training, working with families forced into hardship assignments, social networking and corporate privacy laws. Every session was fascinating and every woman there had knowledge to share. 

Sometimes when I am having a little pity party, I like to advertise the fact that Lagos is a "hardship location" but this workshop really put things in perspective for me. I talked to a woman who had lived in Bonny Island (off the Niger delta) for over 8 years. It's an island - of expats. The logistics she deals with just to get to Lagos ("the big city") astounded me. I met women from Gabon who have elephants terrorizing their camp. Women from Cairo, who just last year were evacuated and now have to manage a community of families living in a post-crisis location; a "hardship assignment" without "hardship pay".

Miri, Beijing, Doha, Dubai, Muscat, Paris, Bangalore, I couldn't get enough of talking to these women and hearing about their experiences. We have so much in common and yet I felt so green. Two overseas assignments and no language barriers? How could I possibly counsel a spouse in distress? A mother missing her child? Someone struggling with a new language? I guess that part will work itself out - part of my job is to bring people together so if I can't help someone, I can usually find someone who can. 

So now I am trying to put my party planning and social expectation stress aside and remember that that is not what the job was designed for. I just need to remember that it is about helping people in transition. To be fair, I think I know a little bit about living transition. Well, me and every other woman I meet.

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"Fix You"

"When you try your best but you don't succeed.. When you get what you want but not what you need"

The last two weeks have felt manic. A whirlwind. A constant stream of ongoings that has launched me into a state of dizziness. If I'm not in overdrive then I walk around in a fog knowing I'm forgetting something but I'm just not sure what. Most likely I haven't forgotten anything; I'm just convinced I should have done more with my time. Knocked one more thing off my list.

As usual I have no one to blame but myself. This is what I do. I hurl myself head first into newness. I'm a joiner. I'm a hand-raiser. I'm a problem solver. At least I like to think I am. My new role at E's company, Girl Scouts, the American Women's Club, school activities, homework, my (sad) attempt at taking up tennis again, and a minor obsession with taking other newbies under my wing. It's a lot. It is probably too much. But I am a people-pleaser. I have what my friend Melissa used to call, "The Disease to Please". I have trouble saying NO. Especially when I am the New Girl.

It's text book. When one is thrown into a new situation with new people, one is ultimately at a crossroads. Most of us really only have 2 choices: Wallflower or Social Butterfly. I think we all know I am not a Wallflower. But I don't have to be the Chief either. I'm happy to be an Indian. Just give me an assignment and I will make it happen. But therein lies the rub. I'm the new girl. Living in a town full of people looking for things to happen. Looking for some glimpse of their old life - Halloween parties, Chili cook-offs, auctions, brownie-badge-earning events. It's like an event-addict buffet. And I have the very unfortunate advantage of having worked in both the non-profit and corporate arenas; most of which involved some aspect of event planning and fund-raising. As my little brother would say, Yaht-zee!

But no one is forcing this on me. I signed up for all these activities. And now I have to deliver. Which is what keeps me up at night. Because let's face it, there's no Costco. No Arne's. No Texas-size tent company to help me pull all this together. We're talking about a culture that deals with cash and cash only; the largest bill being worth about $7 USD. Last week I bought hot dog buns from some little shack near the round-about. They were terrific and home-made but I never would have found it if not for word-of-mouth. I looked into ordering some mylar helium balloons only to find out a batch of 5 was almost $70 USD. (and I was just going to stick them outside so people weren't lost!). 

Next week is critical. I am still recruiting and training a team for my "little job". I've got parent-teacher conferences. I am decorating and working a Membership Tea for the American Women's Committee at which I am meant to advertise a Halloween party I have yet to plan. I am manning (woman-ning?) a booth at an HR People's Fair for E's Company. Everyone in the family needs a haircut.

Somewhere in there I have to pack and prepare for a 10 day holiday in South Africa followed by a 4 day trip to Dubai. Clearly, I am thrilled about these trips but it also means going off the grid for longer than I would like. The amount of work I have to get done before we leave feels insurmountable. 

It's a good thing I am spending tomorrow at a Beach Clean Up day with the Girl Scout Troops. Otherwise I might really start to worry.

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