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Published: March 20th 2006
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Speech & Play
A view of what matters most for the future of our planet. As much as time allowed, we enjoyed the children and their playfulness, their curiosity and their questions. Rain, thunder, and lightning showered our Thanksgiving feast, blessing the coming together of Nigerians and Americans.
"God has accepted our meeting." Nicholas Ijabor explains the significance of the storm as evening showers poured onto an above tarp. Earlier in the day, rains persisted and brought native talk among the locals. They fidgeted in their plastic chairs. Together, we were at a town meeting exploring the methods to preserve the library, and this inviting phenomenon seemed to enliven our purpose. "We have been blessed many this day," Nicky said over the roar of water.
As the library project nears the day of commissioning, where local chieftains and government officials will grant us with their presence, we called a meeting of villagers to discuss its future. Books organized and catalogued, grounds swept clean and landscape around the empty building designed while inside walls are painted, windows installed and iron bars placed.
Our work over the last days has been intense. We rise at six, brake at eight, and then again at noon for lunch as the midday heat pushes all of us (even locals) under the shades of shelter. But this afternoon, through with our day's physical labor, clouds convened
Cicatriced!
The tribal markings from tradition to today. at the town meeting and agreed with showers of praise. The people spoke and offered various ideas for the project's sustainability:
- A one-time fee of 15 naira for maintenance (It's a cultural respect to offer and accept money for a service in exchange for the sense of worthiness),
- Proposing a one-year waiting period to check out books (this would make it a temporary reading room).
- And advertisement to invite others from around the region to be a part of the community.
Global Citizen delegates made it clear that this was the people's library, the whole region's. It was now the community's responsibility to care for it and preserve it for future's use. They understood. It was theirs, built by local hands with the financial support of our US delegation. We were only there to bring the people to their feet and present the beauty of uniting individuals to create what their collective hearts desire.
As for my part, I tried working in all areas, getting a feel for the process as a whole. I worked in the room cataloging the books. And I stripped off my shirt under thick cloudy skies to
Portraiture
It seems that no matter how many hours you put it, the only thing that shows is the heart you put into it. With help of many, the library transformed in a couple of days. move white sand in decrepit rusted barrels, dig holes with twisted shovels, their metal bending under the heavy weight, cut grass with archaic machetes, and clear debris with bare hands where angry red ants dug their caverns. Though together, we worked laboriously side-by-side with the villagers, never complaining, moving as partners for peace.
I also spent time within the classroom of the Gbaraun Grammar School. My class was mute, reticent and silent midst the attempts to engage. But I learned from them, as they learned from me, asking few questions, slowly shooing out the butterflies from within the gut.
At breaks, we soaked like sponges in our own sweat. Many of us find shade—any shadow—and chug water. We wiped the perspiration from our eyes and appreciated the space of immobility. Still, we sat like logs in the quagmire of humidity.
But we also played, tossing a disc in the open fields of crabgrass, teaching the locals Frisbee. There was the common laugh among all people and our eyes watched our African brothers with thick bodies find the finesse of the game.
And again, bringing our cultural gathering to Nigeria, it rained with fervor during Thanksgiving. God
Laboring Africa
The project with the village and their library. has come to cool the heat, and God, as Nicky emphasizes, "Has brought us together today."
We’re refreshed when a soft breeze sweeps across the night sky before emptying its waters like a filled cistern. The cranberry sauce tickled our taste buds after a week of heavy palm-oil and clumps of
eba, while Nigerians cringed at the very thing we missed at home.
"Too sweet. Too sweet," they say. So the cranberries and vegetables are replaced with bowls of
enugi and chunks of ram.
Underneath the rain during our meal, we were each given the time to reflect on our experiences. God pounds with hail size droplets, voices drowned in forming pools. In our silence, we remember the children who joined us in the cataloging room, absorbed they were in books yet to be organized. Their eyes searched pages, scouring words and images without the patience to wait until Monday—commissioning day. Older youth sat in open windows and gleamed at our laptops which glowed in the dull afternoon light.
And then the half-naked kids, tatters in their buttocks. Out of nowhere, they ran to sweep up the flayed pages on the grass with open arms. Rains
Realities
At times our work seemed infinitismal compared to the weight the people of the Delta carry day to day. descended quickly, unexpected, threatening to dampen our books once more. It was their library, and we became certain of this mutual understanding.
Now, the rain continues with rumbles of heavy heat and flashes from God's talons, alighting the darkness of night, one with flares of candles burning on the horizon, reminding locals of the presence of Nigeria's Statue of Liberty. I speak of the gas flares, burning 24 hours a day, lighting the sky as they hiss like giant flaming Royal-Dutch Shell wicks.
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Susan Partnow
non-member comment
Your writing brings art and life to our experience
Thank you for all the energy you are putting in to this blog, dear Cameron... It is a giftto see our experience reflected here with such artistry and insight... It inspires me to invest more time to reflect deeply and write with care... Blessings on your journey in Tibet.