Goodbye Iwo: I learnt, I grew, I conquered

Hello everyone! :)

Sorry about the looong weeks of silence, the last few weeks have been crazy.

I was feeling a bit lazy to do this post but then I felt that my service year would be incomplete without a 'Goodbye Iwo' post.

So, here we go!

I am actually a bit more emotional about the end of the service year than I had thought I would be, lol. I think it's almost impossible to live in a place for almost a year and not leave with one or two memories to last one a lifetime. For me, I am parting with an uncountable amount.

Peace out, Iwo!

With Toheeb @ his after-school hustle

Kenny and Tayo @ Passing Out Parade (P.O.P.)

The queue to get your certificate at the P.O.P. It wasn't easy, yo!...

...But we got it!

Life is really interesting; I've always found it funny how we imagine events playing out a certain way but then reality just shows up and you end up with something you never expected or imagined. Case in point: serving in Iwo. Everything definitely didn't go according to plan. Ok, there actually wasn't a plan or much expectation. Except that I expected to have a ridiculously fun service year, and to serve as a French teacher. When neither of these worked out (i.e the kind of fun I had wasn't what one would typically define as fun; In several situations, I had to do a lot of lemonade making. Also, I didn't end up teaching French like I'd have liked, I taught English instead which I think was by far more fulfilling than teaching the former would have been), I decided that the best thing to do would be to just throw myself into the experience and take it all in. This sums up my attitude throughout the service year. 

Firstly, I am super thankful for the idea to start this blog. It gave me something to be excited about and look forward to, and as weird as it sounds reads, blogging has taught me one or two things about myself. 

On friends: I've also formed some wonderful friendships; ones that circumstances forced upon me, yet choice has sustained. NYSC brings different kinds of people your way. Some cool, some okay, and some you usually wouldn't approach or even like at first sight, but after a few months of living together, attending CDS together, and teaching together, magic happens and you find yourself forming the most unlikely friendships. 

With Jane @ P.O.P.

Eniang, Ola, Ephraim, Moses, Okhai. Last night in Iwo

On teaching: If you think you're patient, try teaching the students at Anwar-Ul Islam. They'll prove you wrong. Imagine spending an hour teaching a topic, explaining in English AND Yoruba. Then you ask if everyone understands what they've been taught, even begging them to ask questions. They say they have none because they believe they understand. Then you ask them a question and they can't answer correctly. Spending 2-3 lessons on a one-lesson topic; dragging one's feet on lesson notes because you don't want to teach the next topic without first making sure the last topic was well-understood. The same process repeats itself EVERY class. 

They literally almost pushed me down!

"Aunty!!!"

"Aunty, camera us!"

On NCCF: Life with a group of young people who are passionate about the Gospel. A lot of sacrifices were involved but I had peace knowing that God was pleased with the little we accomplished. We literally lived on faith and seeing it yield fruits.  There were times where we needed things and after all our efforts, all we could do was just believe, and God never let us down. There was a lot of spiritual and mental growth, we learnt patience, we learnt endurance. I had no idea that my service year would be so God-centered. It was indeed a chance for me to learn about service to God, about giving, about sharing God's love with people, the power of prayers, of worship, the realness of God. These were a few of the many life lessons I'm taking with me.

Gerald (G-FinSec), Funmi (G-Mama), Patrick (G-RuggedPrayo), Imah (G-MD)

The cheesy but true bit

There are several other experiences to share and stories to tell but I want to keep it short so I'll end it here. I'd say that the main theme of the Iwo experience for me, was SACRIFICE. Jesus explained that there's nothing special about giving when you expect to be repaid. I have learnt/I am learning to inconvenience myself more often just to see someone smile; the importance of doing things for people without even waiting to hear a "Thank you"; and showing love to people who aren't easy to love. It's the little things that matter. Do something little for someone everyday. It will make a difference, I promise. Also, live. Just live. Do something unusual, something different, every now and then. Throw yourself into experiences and just enjoy it. Start something and don't quit until you see it through. Do it. Just do it. Live. Just. Live.

Everyone's been asking, "What's next?", "What happens to thetownofIwo?". I say, stay tuned, people :). You will hear from me reeeeal soon.

Peace and Love. 
Btw, stay strong in Christ, Heaven in real ;)

PS: It's still a town, not a village! :P

"Aunty, ejo, e mu wa f'ona"

After fulfilling the CDS ritual on this lovely Thursday morning, I was heading home when I decided to make a quick detour to satisfy that morning's puff-puff craving. Going home to make the puff-puff myself was going to be a longer process that would first require a trip to the supermarket; one I wasn't 'gingered' for, so that was out of the question. So, I kept skimming the streets. With my keen eyes moving from left to right in search of guiding clues, like a woman covered in dough, a firewood spot or a big frying pan, anything! I just wanted some puff-puff! It felt as if they had chosen this day to strike or something, 'cause puff-puff is very popular in this town, so why couldn't I find any today? The craving was so strong that when I couldn't find the fresh-off-the-fire ones I'd usually go for, I settled for the hawked ones. 

No, this post isn't about puff-puff, I'm going somewhere with this, I promise.

Two girls had walked past me. They looked no more than 8-10 years of age. One was hawking puff-puff, the other, newspapers. After paying for my puff-puff, we exchanged goodbyes. Then something I found interesting followed. The girls said to me, "Aunty, ejo, e mu wa f'ona". They wanted to get to the other side of the road and needed my help doing so. 

It was this moment that helped me understand something I had noticed in months past. The culture here is a very 'learn-on-the-job' one, and age is indeed just a number. Parents don't care if their children are old enough to cross the streets, all they care about is that puff-puff and newspapers need to be sold. So, you must become old enough; you must find a way around it. Here, you'll see 8-year olds putting together the firewood, fetching from the well, holding down the family business in their parents' absence. The children learn to be tough at a very young age. What am I even saying writing? Half of the students at my school don't even know their age! That's how unconcerned with age Iwo-ites are. I discovered recently that each of these students has an after-school hustle. Today, I'm bumping into Kudirat at the market where she sells fufu in the evenings, tomorrow evening, I'm seeing Taiye helping his mechanic uncle out at his uncle's 'shobu'(shop). While on one hand, it surprises me, and maybe even worries me a little to see young children taking on huge responsibilities; on the other, I guess the good side to it is that it prepares these children for the future; you know, stimulates their mind. I reckon if the school thing doesn't work out in the future, they won't be completely stranded. 

Welcome to Iwo where whether young or old, the hustle must continue. 


PS: It's a town, not a village :P

Learning; a conscious effort

As I sit here in a room at the NCCF (Nigerian Christian Corpers' Fellowship) family house, a Yoruba lesson is taking place in the room next door. Yoruba-speaking Person A is teaching Person B (from Akwa-Ibom) some Yoruba words. You can tell the latter is confused, though; her face always gives her away, but her passion for learning the language is admirable. 

NYSC is apparently supposed to integrate cultures, and since this is a Yoruba town, you can imagine that most of the corpers here are either from the East or the South but give them another 2-3 months and I bet no one would be able to tell where anyone's from because of how passionately these non-Yoruba speaking corpers daily immerse themselves in the culture. From our Yoruba song-based worship sessions sometimes even led by non-Yoruba speakers; kneeling to greet elders, to knowing when to use 'o' and when to use 'e' in Yoruba as a sign of respect, it is clear that because of their keen interest to learn, these people are blending in so well with the Iwo lifestyle and culture.

Whenever we go to the market, my friend would turn to me and ask, "If muri marun is N100, then what is N200?" and questions of the sort. People who are are more familiar with 'ila alasepo' have had to embrace eating their okro with stew, Yoruba style. And eating egusi and efo more often than they are used to. I find their progress laudable. It has made me realize that learning is a conscious effort because being in a new place does not guarantee that one'd be a part of the culture there, until that person makes the conscious decision to do so. I say this because I'm sure you'd find those few people who can't be bothered or aren't interested in integrating; those who if after their NYSC experience here, are asked to translate a word as easy as 'sorry' to Yoruba, might not be able to. 

If there's one thing I have and am still learning, it's that open-mindedness is vital for an enjoyable NYSC experience.

Image source: Google

PS: It's a town, not a village :P

Lessons from the school year

Last day of school-
Whispers of excitement with a hint of uncertainty filled our assembly ground as the students awaited their report cards. They stood outside, anxiously waiting while we decided on who and who were going through to the next class. Deciding on a fair passmark was quite tough; 50% was out of the question. So, we considered 40%, but soon settled for 30 after realising that 40 might put more than half of the school at risk of repeating a class. So, 30% it was. If you were able to score 30% or higher in at least 5 subjects, you were put through to the next class. You can be sure that each class still had at least 3 students repeating, though.

Anyway, it was finally time. The moment of truth had come. We handed out the report cards and within minutes the atmosphere was transformed. Call them lucky or whatever you want, most of the students were content with just barely scaling through. I spotted one of my brighter students and asked to see his report card, and he proudly obliged. I congratulated him on a job well done and before you knew it, his mates had gathered around me. In that moment I was reminded of how much we all crave approval and support. His mates wanted me to be proud of them, too; shake them, hug them, notice their efforts. So, I checked out some other report cards and commended the efforts of the ones who had done exceptionally well, and for the ones who had just barely made it through, i advised them to work harder next term. Then, I spotted a few teary eyes, and I immediately knew they had been introduced to one of life's vital lessons- actions have repercussions. I tried to feel bad for these students who had to repeat a class but I just wasn't able to attain the height of empathy required in that moment because I know how unserious most of them had been during the school year. What's funny-and my fellow teachers would agree- is that it's not that these children don't have it in them to do well, it's that they refuse to make use of their resources-we their teachers-, they refuse to revise what they are taught, and some just show up to school whenever they feel like. After all, it's free, eh?

During the school year-
It was first from my JSS3 students that I learnt that for help to be accepted, it must first be desired. Before they started their Basic Education Certification Examination (BECE), I approached them with my desire to give them some free of charge after-school English lessons, which they swore they appreciated and would never miss. Long story short, a couple of weeks after we started, only 2 students were left in the class. 

With my JSS1 and 2's, here's how a typical class period would look like: I explain what adjectives are in English AND Yoruba just to make sure that much more than just knowing the definition, the students understand the meaning. My students would swear they understand. "Any questions?", "No" would be their default answer. Each class I'd stress the importance of asking questions where there is confusion, reminding them that asides teaching, my job is also to ensure that they understand  what they've been taught. Every class after my sermon, we'd work on some examples (related to what I have taught them; in this case, we'll stick with adjectives) and you find that Bode still thinks 'is' or 'book' is an adjective. The simple reason for this is that Bode refused to ask questions when he had the chance. I'd correct Bode, yet tomorrow, Bode will make the same mistake because after he got home that day, he did not revise what he had learnt in school. 

Filled with laughs and interesting encounters, this was definitely a good term for me. Through the caning and the scolding I often dish out to them, and the 'tabon's they constantly throw at me, these kids are already growing on me. I look forward to a better term next term and I'm curious to see if the results of this term would have an effect on the kids' attitude towards school next year.


PS: It's a town, not a village! :P

My homie, Barakat

I made a friend a month after I moved here. Her name is Barakat, she has a lovely smile, and we are neighbours. That's about all I know about her. 

The very first time I saw her at her mom's shop, I thought she was really cute and I made that clear, like I do every time I see a cute kid. Since then, we've had a very interesting relationship; she yells "aunty!" each time she sees me, which always puts a smile on my face, we hug, I ask about school, and I buy her biscuits every now and then. Yeah, that's pretty much it about our friendship. 

She has mood swings from time to time, though, where she'd refuse to speak to me but aside from that, we're all good. :)

             

I reckon she's about 4? I've never asked X_X

Barakat and Mary


PS: It's a town, not a village!:P

'Las Gidi' VS 'Iwo-Small London'

When we were leaving the NYSC camp, there were several buses lined up to pick us up. Once we were told which local government we were posted to, we then had to look for people carrying placards with the names of our LG areas written on them. These people would then direct us to the buses that were sent from those LG areas. I was posted to Iwo. The guys carrying the Iwo placards kept yelling "Iwo Small London". I thought, "right". Before camp, the only related thing to Iwo I had ever heard of was Iwo road. Little did I know that my knowledge was about to be expanded.

First of all, Iwo is no London; big or small, lol but it is quite a lovely little town (situated in Osun but closer to Ibadan than lots of other towns in Osun), and I have to admit that being here has opened my eyes to a much different lifestyle from what I'm used to. 

I didn't think it was possible for there to be such a strong difference between people of the same country. As much as we all identify as Nigerians, there's no denying that there's still a huge divide between our towns and tribes. I'll explain... 

In a 'survival of the sharpest' community like Lagos, its inhabitants realise that it is a rich city and there's money 'somewhere sha' and they are on a mission to get it. As a result of this desperation, trust fails, security fails and dishonesty is the order of the day because like you, the next guy is a hustler, trying to find that cool cash you're looking for. It's a race, it's competition. Hence, survival of the sharpest. 

Las Gidi

Out here, it's a little different. In Iwo, a much smaller and by far poorer community, there is more togetherness, trust, helpfulness, honesty and security. Everyone has a pretty similar standard of living, so the lifestyle isn't competitive, as is the case in Lagos. Everyone cares about the next person. In fact, the peaceful living condition and security has never stopped surprising me. Every now and then I forget that I'm still in Nigeria (I mean this in terms of the difference in lifestyle in comparison with Lagos). Growing up in Lagos all my life, the concept of Nigeria I'm used to is a community where there is no dulling, and everyone is aggressive, quick and "sharp". Also, unlike Lagos, because Iwo is such a small town, my neighbours always feel my absence, even when I'm away for just one day.

Iwo-Small London

I'm excited to be exploring another side of Nigeria.

I do miss Lagos a lot, though. Lol.

PS: It's a town, not a village! :P

'Inclusive City'

A few months ago, my friend, Gerald, started a project called 'Inclusive City'. A project designed to create awareness on children with special needs and how they can be identified. He enlisted myself and a couple of other friends as members of his team. Every month we go to 4-5 primary schools to speak (well, Gerald does most of the speaking since he is actually qualified) to teachers on how to identify children with mild or severe special needs; everything from visual impairment like longsightedness and short sightedness to intellectual deficiencies like dyslexia and autism. The dream is that with this knowledge, teachers can become sensitive to and considerate of students with such needs when teaching. Hence, 'Inclusive City'; an atmosphere where everyone is included and children with special needs aren't ignored or treated differently because of their disabilities. 

Thus far, the teachers have been responsive, and the experience, insightful. Knowledge, truly, is power. I'm excited to see what the future holds for Inclusive City. 

Below are a few pictures from last week's trip to Baptist Day School. I will share more posts and pictures on Inclusive City as time goes on.

L-R:
Gerald, Patrick, Uche

PS: It's a town, not a village! :P

They say, "when in Rome..."

Today, I wove my hair, something I hadn't done in over a decade. I initially did it to give my hair a break from hair extensions but I later realised that living in Iwo might have also had something to do with the decision. I think that being out here has allowed me comfortably embrace my inner villager and just be free. Sure, it was first about wanting to take care of my hair but also, the fact that I'm in Iwo and not Lagos, made it an easier thing to do. I find myself crossing the street with my wrapper and "dunlop slippers", and all sorts of funny things I wouldn't dare do in Lagos for fear of being called crazy. Things that are too "razz" for us city people. The other day, I saw my friend brushing his teeth with a 'pako' (pictured above). When I asked whatever happened to his toothbrush, his response was "I just felt like doing things this way today"; an idea he wouldn't dare explore if he were back home in Benin. 

My conclusion from all this was that, being out here is allowing us be free and explore a lifestyle we aren't used to, and what makes it easy is that we are around people who aren't exposed enough to find us uncool or "razz".

Rocking the 'shuku eyin'.

PS: It's a town, not a village! :P

"The day a woman becomes president in this country, I'm leaving"

A couple of female inspectors stopped over at our school today. I guess they came from the Ministry of Education or something like that. They made themselves out to be pretty important, anyway. From lesson notes to attendance books, these women requested for all our records from the term. Prior to this experience, I don't think I had ever seen such a nervous group of adults together in one room, in my life. The atmosphere was so tense and awkward for me as I watched the principal and teachers get heck for the mistakes and mess-ups they had made on their records. I hate seeing people uncomfortable, much less, older people. 

Also, you'd think being "ordinary corpers", as they put it, would have meant that we would be given special treatment. You know, maybe they'd go easier on us since we aren't permanent teachers; but that wasn't the case. We were treated no differently. In fact, I was threatened with a query, while another one of us corpers had his lesson note seized and was asked to travel down to their office to reclaim it.

Anyway, after they left and we went back to our staff room, a conversation about 'women in power' ensued. Someone asked, "why do women abuse power?". Another added, "the day a woman becomes president in this country, I'm leaving."

Being the only female of all five corpers, you can imagine how difficult it would have been to win an argument. So, I didn't bother starting one. Not because I couldn't but because I can't defend what I don't oppose. I am all for "girl power" but I had/have to agree with these guys on this one. It is something I had noticed in the past, and for once, in that moment, I think I figured it out. Considering women historically and even biologically, women were never "the head" or placed at the forefront of things. Then things changed and the idea of women being made prime ministers or managing directors was no longer so far-fetched. Now that we've been given the power and freedom we had always lacked, I think we feel the need to prove our capability by doing all we can to assert our power. However, the problem in our country is that several have abused this power. Another one of the guys put it well by saying, "there's discipline and then there's disrespect. You can't be yelling at people older than you or at corpers, as if they were kids". It seems that in this country, we believe that to ensure discipline, disrespect must be enlisted; forgetting that discipline and disrespect are completely unrelated.

My question is this: Can we entirely blame the women? Can't we all relate to that need to over-compensate after being long oppressed? Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't that what these women in power are trying to achieve through their strictness?

Thoughts?

PS: It's a town, not a village! :P

Image source: Google

Quotes of the week

A few interesting quotes and encounters from last week.

1.

Me: How's teaching going?

Niyi: It's going well. I think I'm starting to make an impact on those kids. They call me "Uncle".

Me: Erm, they call everyone that.

2.

"Those kids, some of them won't make it. But some will."- Adetokunboh S.

3. 

Me: State of Origin?

Student: Osun

Me: Local Government?

Student: President Goodluck Jonathan

4.

Corper Busayo: Do you live with your parents?

Student: No

CB: Who do you live with then?

Student: Maami

5.

Me: Name one continent.

Student: Shout America

Me: Say 'SOUTH' 

Student: Shout?

Me: No, South

Student: Shout... and so on...

"Daydream. I fell asleep beneath the flowers for a couple of hours..."

It was 2PM; which means only one thing at Anwar-Ul-Islam school: Closing time. The rain was so heavy this day, however, that I decided to wait a while in the staff room 'til it stopped. So, there I sat in my chair, doing one of my favourite things: getting lost in thoughts. As I thought about several things from memories to possibilities, I ended up thinking about thinking. Sounds weird? Check this:

I think that one of life's most beautiful gifts is the ability to think, daydream, imagine, call it whatever. I find that getting lost in thoughts sometimes puts me at my happiest. I enjoy that ability to reminisce on what has been-what we know as memories-, and the ability to consider what could be. What makes thinking so beautiful is the endless possibilities of how far the mind can go. I dare say that everyone enjoys fantasies, even realists. We know that those far-fetched imaginations might never actually materialize but oh, how beautiful it is to stretch one's mind so far!

Why I call it a gift is its mysterious factor. Thinking is OUR own thing. The fact that no one else can know what you're thinking, well, unless you tell them, makes it special. In a world where everyone is constantly trying to stick their nose in the next person's business, it's nice to have this one thing to hold on to. 

My happiest place goes beyond the seen. My happiest place is within. Alone, with my thoughts.

PS: It's a town, not a village! :P

Image source: Google

Welcome to Iwo :)

Earlier this year, in March, to be precise, I had to choose between living in either the city of Lagos or the town of Iwo (some would argue that it's a village) for the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) year. I chose Iwo-don't ask why. This is where the story begins…

A few friends thought I was crazy, others weren't surprised as they had always known me to be…erm…'a lover of adventure', as they put it.  Thus far, I've been here for about three months, and have met some of the funniest people and been met with some very funny encounters. So, I thought, 'why keep it all to myself? The world needs to hear about it!'. Besides, I've discovered that not very many people know where or even what Iwo is, so this blog will also serve as a light-shedder. On here, I will share everything from random Iwo-inspired thoughts to interesting experiences. Feel free to ask questions and share your NYSC experiences as well. Enjoy! :)

PS: It's a town, not a village! :p