First time in the village

Linus Ita is an incredibly determined person. I certainly did not meet him by chance. This strongly built man with steadfast demeanor was attending every meeting related to renewable energy he could, committed to figuring out how to bring it to his un-electrified village.

He had been doing so long before I came to this country. In 1998, Linus founded a community-based conservation society to promote practices that increase the quality of life in his village while preserving the rainforest that surrounded and sustained it. In this manner, they had implemented sustainable methods of organic farming and trades such as beekeeping that work with the forest. But his dream of powering his village with renewable energy has not been as successful. In 2004, he helped a Canadian organization write a case study for powering the village with small hydro from a nearby stream… but it ended there. World Bank consultants agreed to fund a solar demonstration in 2006… and then never contacted him again. Not one light has been lit yet, but Linus continues to ask how it can be done.

He also continued to invite me to his village Mfaminyen (pronounced ‘famine’ with an M in front and a ME in the middle) for myself. This new year, I was finally able to accept. Not knowing quite what to expect, I set out on the back of a motorcycle Linus borrowed from a relative. The ‘international highway’ that we took was at times little more (and sometimes less) than a mud clay road, carved away by the vehicles and awesome floods of the rainy season. Once we had to stop and load the bike in a wooden boat to be ferried across a broken down bridge. Another time in get the bike through waist-high “ruts” in the road. And many others, thankfully, just to stop and chat with Linus’ friends along the way. The correlation between challenging transportation and increased socialization had never been so clear!

By the time we finally entered the village, darkness was just settling into Mfaminyen. Dusk accentuated its relaxed atmosphere, a stark contrast to the day’s raucous rumbling of the motorcycle engine. Smoke puffed out of thatched palm leaf roofs that toped clay mud houses. Children scampered around barefoot, laughing and yelling as their parents chatted in groups.

I was warmly greeted by Linus’ neighbors and beautiful wife, Mary. Linus had hoped to present the male, female and youth leaders with gifts he had helped me select. But the dark and the day’s journey was starting to overwhelm me, so I was grateful that I ended up engaging in simple greetings and conversation with an informal group of women leaders.

The night brought a start to the holiday festivities and, to my surprise, the village filled with the gen-powered light of a few colored bulbs and TV. A seasonal indulgence magnified by quadrupled gas prices induced by the fuel shortage (see music videos). After being fed and given what I later learned was Linus and Mary’s bed, I quickly collapsed into an incredibly sound sleep.

The next day brought a busy and harried Linus. A festival was planned celebrating the activities of the Mfamiyen Conservation Society’s latest USAID-funded project. The farmers in the village formed a co-operative to utilize sustainable farming techniques to improve their crop yields. This festival was planned to share their leanings and successes with the rest of the village.

As with many Nigerian events, it was running late. Five hours after the original start time, Linus welcomed the rest of the village and invited the important guests up to the ‘high table’. This was followed by many long speeches, votes of thanks, more speeches and finally… refreshments. Properly rejuvenated, we moved on to “icebreakers” where over an hour was spent lining the farmer field school student accounting to height, age and (hilariously) number of wives. But this time dinner was ready and the generator was switched on to provide music and TV for entertainment. After a few hours of watching music videos, I retired to bed. I was told that they turned off the TV later and talked of farming, which was better since more people came due to the entertainment.

The next day I was properly introduced to the appropriate leaders. I tried to incorporate all the various advice I’d been given about this ritual: keep you eyes down, speak when spoken to, don’t pick your nose, etc... but found the concern to be necessary as they were fairly informal themselves… and sometimes surprisingly straightforward.

One elder innocently inquired what I thought of their village. I replied that it was beautiful and was touched by the warmth of the people. “That is a very diplomatic answer,” he observed. “But enough with the diplomacy. What about the suffering? The unhygienic conditions? We do not need diplomacy. What we need is help.”

I nodded in unsatisfying agreement. Eloquently and unceremoniously granted permission to acknowledge the swollen bellied children sleeping on the floor, the women working over smoky fires, men selling crops for next to nothing - I was unable to provide an adequate answer. The hero’s welcome I receive is a hope. A plea for something to be done. One I can only answer with a question - why not?!

---

---