Growing friends

As I drove Alex home from school yesterday he asked me if I thought Freya was 'growing friends' in Abuja. I said I thought she was, and that one of the wonderful things about moving to different places is the chance to meet new people and to make new friendships. He told me that he wanted to 'grow some new friends' too, but wasn't sure how to do it as the other children in his class didn't really talk to him. He said he had had an idea about making friends; his plan had been that at playtime he would jump on one of the toy bikes that needed two people to ride it. This sounded like a great strategy to me, but Alex said that although he'd tried, he was never quick enough to get to the bikes (I suspect partly because I have insisted that he puts his sun-cap on at playtime, which must waste valuable seconds) so he admitted his plan wasn't working and that he felt a bit lonely at his new school.

Taking one's children out of their stable home environments and away from established friendships is one of the most difficult decisions that ex-pat and diplomatic families face. Even at the tender age of four, Alex had a group of little pals from nursery that he was sad to leave. I suppose I'd assumed that, being so young, he would hardly notice the change and would find some new playmates fairly quickly in his new school. But, somewhat predictably, his Abuja classmates are louder and more physical than those at nursery in rural Suffolk - they love to sing and dance around in class, whilst Alex is more reserved about shaking his stuff and tends to sit and watch the others rather than join in himself. Rather sadly, the one little boy that Alex had become friendly with last term - they had bonded at tennis lessons - left at Easter to move to a new posting, a common occurrence in the transitory world we inhabit, which has left Alex a little adrift.

However, as luck would have it, we had a parents' meeting at Alex's school yesterday afternoon, which gave us a chance to talk to his class teacher about our concerns. She had also noticed that he hadn't yet made any good buddies and suggested that she pair Alex with a new child every day so that there was always someone for him to sit next to and talk to. That way he could get to know each of the children in the class in turn, before deciding who he wanted to be friends with.

When I picked Alex up from school this afternoon he proudly informed me that David had been his friend today and that tomorrow it would be Naisha. He had even played on a bike with David at breaktime. As we left the classroom, he asked me the same question he asks every afternoon: 'Why do I have to go to school every day Mummy?' When I gave my stock response ('That's just the way it works here'), he replied that he was glad he went every day as he liked school and he was looking forward to sitting next to a new friend each morning.

With all the background tension in Abuja right now, worries about an individual child's friendship groups can feel rather insignificant. But Alex was noticeably happier when I picked him up today and this felt like a bit step forward. I couldn't help but reflect for a moment on how wonderful it must be to be four, and for one's life to revolve around toy bikes and tennis lessons, and I held his hand very tightly as he skipped all the way back to the car.

Million Women March

There have been a variety of responses to the kidnapping of more than 200 schoolgirls from the dormitory of their secondary school in Chibok. There have been calls from various quarters for Nigerians to pray, to fast, to petition the government, to protest in the streets. The desperate relatives of the girls have attempted to follow their abductors deep into Sambisa forest. The first lady of Borno state, Hajiya Nana Kashim Shettima, appealed for fasting and prayer in mosques and churches, urging women to 'put our differences aside irrespective of our faith and ethnicity' and 'all join hands together to rescue these girls.' A Twitter campaign with the hashtag 'Bring Back our Girls' has been launched, and is apparently starting to trend worldwide.

But there still hasn't been any official comment or statement from the Nigerian government about what they are actually doing to hunt for the abducted girls. The situation has caused such despair that a 'Million Women March' is due to take place in Abuja tomorrow, with organisers calling for women from all over Nigeria to convene on the capital, wear red, and goad the government into action. At this point, when reports are starting to surface that the girls may already have been split up and sold off as 'brides', I can't help but think it is unlikely to make much of a difference. But the fact that the pressure on the Nigerian government is continuing - and that tomorrow's planned march made BBC headline news this evening - is a new phenomenon. It no longer feels as if these abductions and school attacks are Borno's problem alone. There is definitely a sense that Nigerians (in Abuja, at least) feel that this could have happened to any of their daughters, which is a new and potentially game-changing development. I wonder if the increased sense of vulnerability felt by residents of Abuja as a result of the Nyanya bombing has something to do with it, the growing awareness that Boko Haram is no longer confined to the states of emergency in the northeast. So it will be telling to see how many of the million women actually make it to Abuja tomorrow.

Back to Abuja

Easter Saturday.

We returned to Abuja this morning after a wonderful week away in Ghana (about which I will post  an entry when I find a moment to download the photos). The flight home was slightly less than wonderful - the only direct fight from Accra to Abuja is at 6am, which meant a 4am wake-up. As it turned out, there was no need for an alarm clock. Alex had woken several times in the night with a high temperature, so I had already been semi-conscious for a couple of hours worrying about whether he’d got malaria. However, a dose of Calpol seemed to bring his temperature down and, once he’d been sick upon arrival at the airport in Accra (right in the middle of the departures hall), he seemed to perk up considerably. 

It was with some trepidation that I boarded the flight home this morning – the bombing on the outskirts of Abuja earlier this week has made me nervous about returning to Nigeria, particularly in the run-up to Easter. There are times when I seriously wonder what we are doing here, when the news of the Nyanya bombing has already been wiped off the front pages by the kidnapping of scores of schoolgirls in Borno state – and the violence perpetrated by Boko Haram, but also the continuing skirmishes between Fulani herdsmen and farmers, continues to cripple the economy and free movement of millions of people in north-eastern Nigeria.

However, once we landed at the airport and had been received a wonderfully warm welcome home from our driver, everything felt a whole lot better. The early morning weather was far cooler than in Accra, the sunlight was beautiful and the traffic unproblematic. The whole city seemed to have become greener in the eight days we’ve been away. It was great to be back in our house, particularly as the carpenters have been at work during our week away, removing the mildewed and termite-infested woodwork from the kitchen and replacing it with something that approximates a cupboard, even if the doors don’t close. We had a very relaxing day at home, catching up on sleep and taking the children to the pool for a swim. Of course, all will depend on what happens over the next few weeks and months, but for now it feels good to be home.

Time for a breather

When we arrived in Abuja, we were advised by a number of people that we might wish to consider taking a break every three months. I thought this seemed a bit over-the-top but, eleven weeks in, I’m really looking forward to getting away and recharging the batteries.

This past couple of weeks have been particularly difficult due to a combination of work commitments and social engagements, combined with trying to get the house straight now that our heavy baggage has arrived. But most of all, the fact that the internet has been so temperamental has had me on the verge of tears several times. There have been days when I've been unable to connect at all, and others when one bar of hope appears on my wifi screen, but the connection then proves so slow that it keeps timing out. Communication is tricky here at the best of times - we have no landline, the Nigerian postal service is non-existent and phoning from our mobile phones is incredibly expensive - so when the internet goes down too, and we can't Skype/email either, I end up feeling incredibly isolated.

So we’re off to Ghana, with a few African novels and a big bottle of suncream, for a week’s R&R on the beach. I can't wait to return with the batteries topped up.