"Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and the talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their existence." - E.M. Forster in "A Passage to India"
Yesterday at work, the power went out .... for the entire day... and, although my "job" of traveling out to see entrepreneurs in the field doesn't really depend on the electricity in the office, my supervisor was hesitant to leave for whatever reason and, thus, we didn't leave for our one and only visit until 1:00pm. As you can imagine, this gave me quite a bit of free time which I used to catch up on my reading.
I've done quite a lot of reading since I've been here as I seem to have quite a lot of time on my hands due to power outages, late drivers, and a simple lack of anything else to do, really. Of course, intelligent human being that I am, I unpacked several of the books I had originally planned to bring with me as my suitcase was overweight and I idealistically thought "Well, I'm sure my time in Nigeria won't be much like Peace Corps... I'm sure I won't have anytime to read." After I burned through both the books I brought and one of the books that someone else brought in the first week and a half, I was left with what was on the bookshelf in our humble little home which, I'm sad to say, are all preachy business books written by brilliant business men who are all, as it turns out, horrible writers (yes, Sir Richard Branson, you may be a world-class adventurer and millionaire but you can not - and should not - write a book to save your life). Luckily, I was saved when I found the place where I work has a small library with both fiction and non-fiction books for sale. True, the selection is less-than-fabulous with nothing worth reading more recently published than the 1980's but, at less than $1 a book, I won't be complaining.
Over the weekend I finished "Pride and Prejudice" and yesterday I finished "Robinson Crusoe" (which, I must say, is not quite as bad a book as everyone makes it out to be) within the first 2 hours of work. I was at first sad by the thought that there was nothing left for me to read but Danielle Steale novels until, lo and behold, I found "A Passage to India" hiding out of order in the non-fiction section.
For those of you who are unacquainted with older literature, "A Passage to India" was written by E.M. Forster and first published in 1924 - yes, I told you the selection wasn't exactly recent. Although certainly written long before my time and about a country I've never been to, I have found the story within "A Passage to India" to very easy to relate to.
The story centers around a young English woman who travels to India with the intent of deciding whether or not she should marry an Englishman who has been appointed judge of a small town in a province which, I assume, would be part of present-day Pakistan. Although the side-bar about marriage certainly doesn't apply to me, the young woman, Adela, is desperate to "see the real India" outside of the colonial gatherings and yet, whenever she attempts to do so, she is met with scorn by her colonial colleagues - who call her naive and "disrespectful of her own race"- and resistance by the Indian "natives" - who distrust her motives and assume she's just like the other English, un-interested and insincere. I find this extremely easy to relate to.
My interest in Africa has certainly set me apart from the majority of Americans and I find that many cannot understand or relate to my desire - my need - to return to the continent time and time again. Many have called me naive and I accept this somewhat willingly because I believe that what most mistake for "naive" is actually "optimism" without which, Africa - and myself- would be without hope. However, it is harder for me to take the criticism that I am "disrespectful of my own race" or, as people generally say in this day an age "turning my back on the people in America that need help." Of course, it bothers me that people in my own country struggle to survive and that many are without food, shelter, and hope even as I write this. One day I hope to be able to help them in some small way but right now I am being called elsewhere. And, as long as my heart is in Africa, I see no good reason why the rest of me should not follow.
Of course, although it is difficult for me to take criticism from Americans, it is harder still to feel distrusted or even un-accepted or misunderstood by the very people that I'm trying to accept and understand. Being in Nigeria has certainly been an odd experience for me and, unlike any other time in my life, no matter how much I try to understand the language, culture, and business environment, I seem to be falling short. I feel as though I vaguely comprehend little pieces here and there but cannot see the forest for the trees.
Although there have been a great many kind, understanding Nigerians who have gone out of their way to make us feel welcome, few have taken the time to explain important parts of their culture and customs. In fact, many of the wealthier Nigerians I have encountered seem tempted to abandon their own culture altogether or merge it with a strange version of pseudo-American culture. This is very confusing for an outsider and I cannot decide if this is being done for my benefit - because they assume that I prefer all things American - or because they are truly attempting to become more western - or, sadder still, that they do not trust me enough to tell me about the way things really are.
In any case, I certainly feel as Adela in "A Passage to India" in that I'm desperate to see the "real Nigeria" and yet, for all my efforts, I am failing to find (or perhaps see) it. Of course, as E.M. Forster tries to point out, Adela's insistence on "seeing the real India" seems, in some ways, to be a slight towards what she's been shown - as if she doesn't believe that the "real India" could be modern. I certainly don't mean to imply that Nigeria could not be modern or that Nigerians could not possess or be in desire of possessing modern things but, without someone to explain the context to me in its entirety, I struggle to believe that Nigerians are without history and a unique culture that is free from these western influences.
Perhaps, like so many things, the Nigerian culture has evolved so much over time that even Nigerians themselves even know what their culture is anymore and so when others ask them to define it, they are unable to do so.... or, in a more likely scenario, perhaps its right in front of me and I haven't known that I've been staring at it the whole time... Maybe, I've been too caught up in the day-to-day task of surviving in Nigeria and thus I have not been alert enough to understand something as subtle (or important) as culture.
"Inside its cocoon of work or social obligation, the human spirit slumbers for the most part, registering the distinction between pleasure and pain, but not nearly as alert as we pretend"- "A Passage to India"
Yesterday at work, the power went out .... for the entire day... and, although my "job" of traveling out to see entrepreneurs in the field doesn't really depend on the electricity in the office, my supervisor was hesitant to leave for whatever reason and, thus, we didn't leave for our one and only visit until 1:00pm. As you can imagine, this gave me quite a bit of free time which I used to catch up on my reading.
I've done quite a lot of reading since I've been here as I seem to have quite a lot of time on my hands due to power outages, late drivers, and a simple lack of anything else to do, really. Of course, intelligent human being that I am, I unpacked several of the books I had originally planned to bring with me as my suitcase was overweight and I idealistically thought "Well, I'm sure my time in Nigeria won't be much like Peace Corps... I'm sure I won't have anytime to read." After I burned through both the books I brought and one of the books that someone else brought in the first week and a half, I was left with what was on the bookshelf in our humble little home which, I'm sad to say, are all preachy business books written by brilliant business men who are all, as it turns out, horrible writers (yes, Sir Richard Branson, you may be a world-class adventurer and millionaire but you can not - and should not - write a book to save your life). Luckily, I was saved when I found the place where I work has a small library with both fiction and non-fiction books for sale. True, the selection is less-than-fabulous with nothing worth reading more recently published than the 1980's but, at less than $1 a book, I won't be complaining.
Over the weekend I finished "Pride and Prejudice" and yesterday I finished "Robinson Crusoe" (which, I must say, is not quite as bad a book as everyone makes it out to be) within the first 2 hours of work. I was at first sad by the thought that there was nothing left for me to read but Danielle Steale novels until, lo and behold, I found "A Passage to India" hiding out of order in the non-fiction section.
For those of you who are unacquainted with older literature, "A Passage to India" was written by E.M. Forster and first published in 1924 - yes, I told you the selection wasn't exactly recent. Although certainly written long before my time and about a country I've never been to, I have found the story within "A Passage to India" to very easy to relate to.
The story centers around a young English woman who travels to India with the intent of deciding whether or not she should marry an Englishman who has been appointed judge of a small town in a province which, I assume, would be part of present-day Pakistan. Although the side-bar about marriage certainly doesn't apply to me, the young woman, Adela, is desperate to "see the real India" outside of the colonial gatherings and yet, whenever she attempts to do so, she is met with scorn by her colonial colleagues - who call her naive and "disrespectful of her own race"- and resistance by the Indian "natives" - who distrust her motives and assume she's just like the other English, un-interested and insincere. I find this extremely easy to relate to.
My interest in Africa has certainly set me apart from the majority of Americans and I find that many cannot understand or relate to my desire - my need - to return to the continent time and time again. Many have called me naive and I accept this somewhat willingly because I believe that what most mistake for "naive" is actually "optimism" without which, Africa - and myself- would be without hope. However, it is harder for me to take the criticism that I am "disrespectful of my own race" or, as people generally say in this day an age "turning my back on the people in America that need help." Of course, it bothers me that people in my own country struggle to survive and that many are without food, shelter, and hope even as I write this. One day I hope to be able to help them in some small way but right now I am being called elsewhere. And, as long as my heart is in Africa, I see no good reason why the rest of me should not follow.
Of course, although it is difficult for me to take criticism from Americans, it is harder still to feel distrusted or even un-accepted or misunderstood by the very people that I'm trying to accept and understand. Being in Nigeria has certainly been an odd experience for me and, unlike any other time in my life, no matter how much I try to understand the language, culture, and business environment, I seem to be falling short. I feel as though I vaguely comprehend little pieces here and there but cannot see the forest for the trees.
Although there have been a great many kind, understanding Nigerians who have gone out of their way to make us feel welcome, few have taken the time to explain important parts of their culture and customs. In fact, many of the wealthier Nigerians I have encountered seem tempted to abandon their own culture altogether or merge it with a strange version of pseudo-American culture. This is very confusing for an outsider and I cannot decide if this is being done for my benefit - because they assume that I prefer all things American - or because they are truly attempting to become more western - or, sadder still, that they do not trust me enough to tell me about the way things really are.
In any case, I certainly feel as Adela in "A Passage to India" in that I'm desperate to see the "real Nigeria" and yet, for all my efforts, I am failing to find (or perhaps see) it. Of course, as E.M. Forster tries to point out, Adela's insistence on "seeing the real India" seems, in some ways, to be a slight towards what she's been shown - as if she doesn't believe that the "real India" could be modern. I certainly don't mean to imply that Nigeria could not be modern or that Nigerians could not possess or be in desire of possessing modern things but, without someone to explain the context to me in its entirety, I struggle to believe that Nigerians are without history and a unique culture that is free from these western influences.
Perhaps, like so many things, the Nigerian culture has evolved so much over time that even Nigerians themselves even know what their culture is anymore and so when others ask them to define it, they are unable to do so.... or, in a more likely scenario, perhaps its right in front of me and I haven't known that I've been staring at it the whole time... Maybe, I've been too caught up in the day-to-day task of surviving in Nigeria and thus I have not been alert enough to understand something as subtle (or important) as culture.
"Inside its cocoon of work or social obligation, the human spirit slumbers for the most part, registering the distinction between pleasure and pain, but not nearly as alert as we pretend"- "A Passage to India"
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