As a child, I remember waiting for Christmas meant waiting to put up all the decorations, waiting to get to eat the Christmas cookies we had been making, watching all the gifts under the tree pile up, and finally waiting to see what was in my Christmas stocking.
As I live in Nigeria, my children experience some of these material parts of Christmas, the decorations, the cookies, and the stockings. But most Nigerians don’t think about Christmas until school is out and they decide where they will spend it; in their homes in the city or in the village where most people prefer and usually have a home. Of course my experiences come from northern Nigeria.
City Christmas doesn’t have much more than going to church and visiting family that might live nearby, but in the village, they DANCE! But still, there are few preparations, it just happens. All of a sudden, the church is decorated with lots of flashy decorations and lights around the altar, and the women and youth present their songs and dramas and after a long Christmas Eve Service everyone goes to the village center and the dancing starts.
On Christmas Day neighbors and extended family members exchange pots of rice and stew, little doughnut holes, a drink called kunun zaki or other foods they have an abundance of. Children wander around in groups in their new clothes (new clothes is usually their only gift from their parents) and collect Christmas sweets or a little money from extended family and friends.
At church, there is another long service lasting three to five hours. Then, after lunch, they gather at the village center again and the Boys Brigade parade around and a program is presented by some village group.
In the evenings, sometimes for several evenings, the dancing will continue until the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes a specific night might focus on the women or the men, but then the youth will take over and dance until they drop. Occasionally the youth will stay outside your compound singing and singing until you pay something to send them on their way.
While Christmas is celebrated with lots of fanfare in the village, I find I still have to search for the fragments of Christmas that are familiar and give meaning to my celebration. Usually I find meaning most in the scripture words that we read; the angels’ song and the shepherds’ awe, and the birth of the babe, Mary basking in the babe’s glory and knowing that Christ is still among us. That is what my Christmas involves. While I enjoy the village experience and feel very comforable with the extended family there, I find myself experiencing it more through my children's eyes and trying not to think of my own family in the US.
No matter how I many traditions I try to bring from my upbringing, it always seems to come down to Christ's birth and sharing time with family and friends that gives me the most joy to my Christmas.
May you each celebrate Christmas in a way that allows you too to bask in the babe’s glory so that the wonder of Christ’s birth might fill your hearts with peace and hope for the new year. Peace is something I crave this year, both inner peace and peace around me. May God's Peace, Love, Joy, and Hope fill your holiday season and the New Year.
Merry Christmas! Barka da Krismati! Happy Christmas!
Dorthea
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
A very crazy month, but never far from God
I don't know if all who read this heard about the Jos crisis. It started right after American Thanksgiving and was very intense for my family and I on Friday and Saturday.
Some say it was a religious crisis, but most who know Nigeria and Jos say it was far more political, but since nothing in Nigeria happens outside of religion, neither was this event absent from religious tension.
The guesthouse where we live and work is in a very Muslim neighborhood and when our neighbors started to riot, their cries were very disconcerting. On Friday morning we feared the rioters would enter our compound so we had to flee from the house and run two compounds over through at least one kind of hidden door.
That first day we did not hear police or military, but the second morning it started right after the dawn to dusk curfew ended and again found us in a corner of the next compound, only that time we could hear the rioters cries met by the military response. I must confess, hearing the military's strong presence as the Muslims refused to step down was very reassuring. (I was told later by my brother-in-law who ventured out later that morning that the street was full of corpses.)
That evening (Saturday) we began hearing rumors that the Muslims might try to come from the big rocks behind the guesthouse so we began making plans to leave. I did most of the packing for the kids and I by candlelight and the light of my cell phone. We had a place to stay that was furnished, but we needed to pack food items, some kitchen stuff and our personal things.
Before 6:30 the next morning we left with a military escort and a soldier in the car and drove across town.
The road we travelled on did not show many signs of fighting, but the four neighborhoods that were hit hardest were not on that road. Schools, mosques, churches, Christian homes, Muslim homes, businesses were all lost. A few days later relief groups counted three large refugee camps with 30,000 people. That doesn't count the many, many compounds that provided refuge to family and friends who lost everything. We passed through many military checkpoints on our way through town.
The reports of compassion come from both sides, as do the many accounts of barbaric violence. Even my girl was running through the house looking for bottles to give to her uncle to make gasoline bombs. (We thank God for the poor aim of those that threw a few over the guesthouse wall.)My prayer for Jos is that the hearts of those that have lost so much will be open to the Word of God.
I think of the many Muslim widows and children who have lost their main provider and pray that their need will open the door for those ready to provide relief and a Word of Peace and Hope.
On December 4th the kids and I and one sister-in-law left Jos for our new house in Yola. From the moment we stepped in the door is seemed like we had come home. I remembered a few weeks earlier when I wondered if we were being selfish to build such a nice house when we had no long term plans to use it. I immediately felt God whispering to me, "Don't worry, you will have a need for it." I still don't know if He means more than this one month when our need has been great, but I see his hand in how hard Amson has been working on the house. I also see his hand in how He led me to get the marking I did before Thanksgiving and get it all entered into the school system.
When school was to start last week I just wasn't ready to head back. I thank God for those that stepped in to allow me the time to heal in Yola. Even now, when I think of going back, I feel the tears wanting to fall and yet I trust that when it is time, He will strengthen me. At this point we plan to return around January 8th.
In the meantime, I have other marking that I am trying to finish. The essays for AP World are done, now I am working on portfolio reports for my basic world history class and then I have some tests and essays to finish in US History. On Sunday Amson will come with part of the exams to mark, mostly essays and portfolios from my AP students. Much to think about while the holidays are going on and during the days we are in the village.
In some ways I feel the stress of the workload, but the peace in our Yola refuge still surrounds me and I know, in God's timing, all will work out.
God is in charge and even though crazy events like this happen in the world we have to trust that God is in control and remember, even when all seems well from the newsreports, there are still many who need your prayers to continue living and caring for their families.
Dorthea in Yola
Some say it was a religious crisis, but most who know Nigeria and Jos say it was far more political, but since nothing in Nigeria happens outside of religion, neither was this event absent from religious tension.
The guesthouse where we live and work is in a very Muslim neighborhood and when our neighbors started to riot, their cries were very disconcerting. On Friday morning we feared the rioters would enter our compound so we had to flee from the house and run two compounds over through at least one kind of hidden door.
That first day we did not hear police or military, but the second morning it started right after the dawn to dusk curfew ended and again found us in a corner of the next compound, only that time we could hear the rioters cries met by the military response. I must confess, hearing the military's strong presence as the Muslims refused to step down was very reassuring. (I was told later by my brother-in-law who ventured out later that morning that the street was full of corpses.)
That evening (Saturday) we began hearing rumors that the Muslims might try to come from the big rocks behind the guesthouse so we began making plans to leave. I did most of the packing for the kids and I by candlelight and the light of my cell phone. We had a place to stay that was furnished, but we needed to pack food items, some kitchen stuff and our personal things.
Before 6:30 the next morning we left with a military escort and a soldier in the car and drove across town.
The road we travelled on did not show many signs of fighting, but the four neighborhoods that were hit hardest were not on that road. Schools, mosques, churches, Christian homes, Muslim homes, businesses were all lost. A few days later relief groups counted three large refugee camps with 30,000 people. That doesn't count the many, many compounds that provided refuge to family and friends who lost everything. We passed through many military checkpoints on our way through town.
The reports of compassion come from both sides, as do the many accounts of barbaric violence. Even my girl was running through the house looking for bottles to give to her uncle to make gasoline bombs. (We thank God for the poor aim of those that threw a few over the guesthouse wall.)My prayer for Jos is that the hearts of those that have lost so much will be open to the Word of God.
I think of the many Muslim widows and children who have lost their main provider and pray that their need will open the door for those ready to provide relief and a Word of Peace and Hope.
On December 4th the kids and I and one sister-in-law left Jos for our new house in Yola. From the moment we stepped in the door is seemed like we had come home. I remembered a few weeks earlier when I wondered if we were being selfish to build such a nice house when we had no long term plans to use it. I immediately felt God whispering to me, "Don't worry, you will have a need for it." I still don't know if He means more than this one month when our need has been great, but I see his hand in how hard Amson has been working on the house. I also see his hand in how He led me to get the marking I did before Thanksgiving and get it all entered into the school system.
When school was to start last week I just wasn't ready to head back. I thank God for those that stepped in to allow me the time to heal in Yola. Even now, when I think of going back, I feel the tears wanting to fall and yet I trust that when it is time, He will strengthen me. At this point we plan to return around January 8th.
In the meantime, I have other marking that I am trying to finish. The essays for AP World are done, now I am working on portfolio reports for my basic world history class and then I have some tests and essays to finish in US History. On Sunday Amson will come with part of the exams to mark, mostly essays and portfolios from my AP students. Much to think about while the holidays are going on and during the days we are in the village.
In some ways I feel the stress of the workload, but the peace in our Yola refuge still surrounds me and I know, in God's timing, all will work out.
God is in charge and even though crazy events like this happen in the world we have to trust that God is in control and remember, even when all seems well from the newsreports, there are still many who need your prayers to continue living and caring for their families.
Dorthea in Yola
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
