It’s a fascinating thing, this life we lead. Some people never leave the town that they were born in, some never return to it. Many around the world still firmly believe in the marriage and children model, yet there is also an increasing level of individuals who opt to live without this, either through long-distance lives and reunions, or by simply directing their energy onto other facets of the human experience.
Personally, I don’t fit the standard boxes and have long-since accepted, and in fact celebrated, my blog’s namesake – a wondering wanderer. (I did give it to myself after all!) Though this causes deep pains for me at time, it also brings me divine joys. And this chapter is more of the same. Plus, who says life has to be any of the above? I’m writing the pages as I walk them….
Since fully recovering from the life-changing month of March, many things became softened, simplified and greatly emphasised. Certain energies around me left or were excused, and alignment felt more in my reach than I believe I’ve ever had at my fingertips before.
And upto this present day as I write, the time period from then until now has been the setting sun upon my African love affair, at least as I currently know it, and as I walked (flew) away, I can tell you without shame – my heart shattered into a million pieces.
If we have learnt anything at all from this Covid era, it is that nothing at all should be taken for granted. So many freedoms, rhymes and rhythms of our lives have been disrupted, upended and in some cases, entirely denied.
Yet when things change in a severe way within a matter of hours, I believe the human nature worldwide is that of a state of shock…..
Last weekend of February 2021, I found myself with plans being changed, amended, and returned to. Leading me to be an attendee of the Lagos Yacht Club 88th anniversary dinner dance. However, with all the back n forth, it seems I missed the obvious play on words from the invite, and found myself as the only member wearing a ‘real’ mask, whilst everyone else (until they reached their bubbles), wore their face masks with ease.
Anyway, it turned out that this was the least of my concerns.
Some hours after leaving, it was noted that my body was absolutely burning hot – my skin felt like lava to touch. Yet I was lying there feeling utterly freezing, like I had been trapped inside an ice cave….
As the weekend continued, my temperature soared and soared, my energy went down and down, and my ability to move even my fingertips disappeared. Every single bone in my body felt like it was broken; such pain that I have no words to describe it. I was sweating whilst uncontrollably shaking. I was unable to walk yet very much needed to get to the bathroom regularly. Lifting my water bottle felt akin to the power needed as a heavy weight lifter. I was utterly and entirely poleaxed.
As August approached, so did the end of my Masters thesis. Hours and days, weeks and months of pure tension in my mind and body were on the precipice of being released. With this, there was the chance to jump overboard for a few days, to enjoy full-time electricity, some kitty love, and access to a hot bath; all of which enabled me to scramble (crawl) over that last hurdle. [Well, almost]. I was delegated cat-sitter, so that I could have the total silence to push through to the final post, whilst my family embarked on a coastal holiday in Anglesey, Wales. Admittedly, I remained confined to the corner of the kitchen as I tip-tapped away on the laptop, so in all sense and purpose I had become accustomed to boat-space and was a fish out of water in the house!
With the luxury of this opportunity, came the luck that I felt able to join for the last few days of the beach trip; such a wonderful thing amidst so much distance and separation with my sister and her family over this time, and when considering all the hardships that people around the world had been facing since the impact of the pandemic.
I had the great fun of taking each of my boys out on the StandUp Paddle board, with my eldest quickly mastering the technique and swiftly paddling off without me! (Particularly pleasing to me rather than him, as I had already begun to turn into an ice-block; will I ever stomach cold shores again?). I also had the chance to go on scooter rides (a first for me, and I admit – I loved it!), climb hills, and have lots of fun hanging out with my beloveds. What a relief from the constant drill I had put myself under during this entire lockdown.
Wales really is a spectacular country and to have time there roaming around felt like a freedom I had not had in quite some time. Typically the weather was changeable, as is known across all of the UK, but this is what helps to make the countries so luscious and vibrant.
Alas, it was just less than 72 hours’ worth of holiday for me, yet worth it’s weight in gold.
Upon returning to the boat, we then had to up the ante on our cruise control. Time was now ticking rapidly for my mum and stepdad, in order for them to make it on time for their pending departure to New Zealand, and there was a lot of water to cross. (A song comes to mind….but I’m going off on a tangent, haha). We now had a matter of weeks to get from Staffordshire to Leicestershire. No easy feat when internet was still required most days, and when we met upon various escapades (as had become the norm), such as conducting a motor boat rescue for a quirky couple on their way down to Evesham! Here and there, we snuck off the boat for a cheeky pint of ale, lavishing the taste that I had missed for so long when back in Lagos.
We passed through gorgeous villages, some sporting UK icons of old (spot the phone box), and scenery to truly take your breath away. It was hard to remember at times, that the entire world was going through a hugely turbulent time, hospitals still over-flowing, people still not knowing when their children could go back to school, or when their work would recommence. Perhaps this is one of the key take-aways from why people such as my mum/stepdad seem to get younger with each day that they live on the canals – you can go looking for the highly populated areas and get wrapped up in all that brings for you (good as well as bad), or you can simplify and discover what was hiding beyond the horizon, (again this isn’t always easy, as reduced social contact and transport opportunities come with their own challenges). However, having some extra time to be able to get involved with cruising, to look out to the sights, to sup up some tasty drinks, and to become a lot more aware of the life I had found myself within…well, it was the right tonic for me. Naturally, often accompanied by the home-brew gin of course hehehe.
Passing across the country also meant being that bit closer to one of my oldest and dearest friends, so I practically jumped for joy when she devised a means to get to us during one of our overnight stops. The boys had visited my folks previously, so they were excited to come on board again, albeit whilst we did our best to socially distance. Their favourite part of it all however, was not quite as appealing to us adults! (They discovered the boat phone, allowing the captain to call down to those in the other end of the boat….needless to say there was a LOT of calls made that afternoon).
We were lucky enough to moor up in one final spot (just about) in reach of my sister, and they happily came and stayed on board with us. The boys simply adore being aboard, and who wouldn’t at their age! I got convinced (coerced?) as always to be the one to go into the river with them, so that they could do more SUP and simply enjoy the country pleasures of swimming in fresh waters. In all honesty, if it hadn’t have been for the squelchy ground and the long reeds, I would even go so far as to say I enjoyed it too…. (but let’s not get carried away).
And then, in the blink of an eye, the journey was complete. We were in full lockdown no more, our movement was over, and we found ourselves moored up, preparing to ‘move into’ Debdale Wharf marina.
Much time has passed and life has continued with many uncertainties and adaptations to the new norm…I have now been living on the canals for almost 23 weeks! So over the course of the next few blogs, I thought I would give some recaps from life with the Corona Canal Club, aka myself, my mum, and my stepdad.
To follow on from the last blog, I had settled into a routine of online working, continued research and analysis for my Masters, camp fires in our canal garden, daily fun with Brock the dog, and a growing kinship between a cute family of ducks and myself. They would ‘call on me’ in the mornings if I hadn’t yet sighted them, and after some time, they began to eat from my hand. Brock got jealous for the divide in my attention, and at times it was hard to know if he understood he wasn’t a duck himself (He came to love eating the birdseed I was keeping in constant supply for Sparky and his siblings!).
There were some beautiful sunny warm days, but I was mostly sat attached to the laptop, feeling like I was slowly going insane with square-eyes, screen time, and little exposure to the outside world. Days rolled into one, as we manoeuvred our way around each other for internet signal, use of the bathroom, sharing meals, music and film tastes, playing cards, and ways to see my sister and her boys, whilst maintaining appropriate social distancing.
Meanwhile, life had become ultra simplistic, with no traffic to fight against, limited time in supermarkets, no social meetups, less and less time on the phone, as I was getting frequent headaches from Zoom etc, and we moved the boat only for our water refills, pumpouts, and food collections. Small things turned into big adventures, such as the access to a canalside shop during one such cruise, leading to the only case of Corona any of us have experienced during this whole period…
However, with the announcement of the eased lockdown, it was time to make our farewells, not only to my beloved Sparky and kin, and of course beautiful Brock, but to our lockdown friends, who had been in the Hurleston junction with us.
And then, the next chapter began, with an ‘almost’ return to normal, as we began movement along the canals once more. Although not before we had refilled on our delicious free-range eggs from the local farm, and after getting back into the swing of things with the locks on our way.
More updates to follow, in Corona Canal Chronicles #2!
The last month has been quite the experience for many people here in Nigeria, as well as for me personally. Some major troubles and some lovely ups.
Tragically there have been some horrific fires, wherein many homes and businesses have been lost. Including for that of a kind-hearted elderly colleague of mine, who lost his entire home and family belongings in the space of an afternoon. There have been video clips sent around of desperate people trying to dampen the outrageous fires with a single water bucket, as they put their lives at risk walking along the rooftop beams, as well as clips illustrating people so caught out by the panic and fear that they were simply standing in crowds aside to the fire and screaming, rather than running for their own safety.
Happily, in the case of my colleague, I am to report positive outcomes, at least of sorts. My work has rallied around to collect monies for him, and due to my wide-ranging business network, I have been able to grace him with an abundance of donations (clothes, shoes, household goods). Interestingly, when another colleague greeted him and gave her condolences, he in fact shrugged with his friend who looked back at her and said – it is just that, it is not bad. We later discussed this, wondering if we would be able to feel the same way…. Would you?
Amidst the devastating fires, I also co-hosted a 5th November bonfire for my students. It was a delight to see them so enthralled by it, yet knowing another fire nearby was destroying livelihoods, I had an eery feeling inside.
There have also continued to be numerous reports of tankers falling in the road, causing extreme traffic issues and again, major loss of earnings for the people involved. In other areas, drivers have chosen to purposely block major roads, due to the fact that their contracts have not been paid. One evening, I found myself caught up in such a road block, and not less than two hours had passed before we moved 100 yards. It quite literally took the best part of the night to get home. Days like these are exhausting. And for many Nigerians, it is part of their daily experience. Often getting up at 4am in order to begin travel and ensure they arrive to work on time. Colleagues of mine will often report of not arriving home again until 9/10pm each night. It really is a wonder anyone can be productive in this situation, let alone get any sort of rest or quality time with loved ones.
Along one such road, (the one I had been stuck on for so long), there later came a report of a man having kept a lion in his home (unbelievably since February!). Questions have naturally been raised as to how this could have gone unnoticed or how he was able to bring the rather large feline into the country in the first place. To me, it really begs the question – how far can you take corruption…. And does it ever serve a positive purpose….
Meanwhile, it is becoming the festive season and with that, it is my busiest time at work. Lectures, meetings, reports, assessments, therapy sessions….these have all taken their toll on my energy. There’s only so many plates one can spin at once! However, I can say with a thankful heart that the month has been utterly filled with joy, through new friends, beach time, playful cats, and spending time alone too. (And the odd exquisite kiss too…not just from the cat!)
I have been part of a catwalk team to raise money for charity; I have enjoyed a Hawaiian beach party (admittedly whilst also studying and marking books); I have played table football (badly-im far too gentle) and lapped up delicious meals (Lebanese, Spanish, Italian). I have supported the wonderful Kinabuti team through clothes purchases (including the most exquisite silk dress that feels like it is part of my skin) and I have managed to squeeze in a couple of games of darts. I’ve also sung on stage, both making a fool of myself with the others as we sang some random bird song amounting to us sqwarking and tweeting in front of a hall full of people, as well harmonizing beautifully to a delightful Yoruba song “Ire Ire”Ire.
Each day that I’m here, I marvel at the experience. Sometimes I do find myself taking a huge inhale, in order to really grasp that I’m living in Africa as it can be easy to just get caught up in the whirlwind of the place and not really appreciate it all. I’m so thankful for all that I have created in my life. And how much I would still have, if my house were to burn down too. Each day I see extreme suffering around me, yet I am in a bubble of wonderful experiences. It can truly be hard to stay grounded sometimes.
I have worked hard to embed this country into my heart and to invest into my life here. And I feel assured that I have achieved this, when I consider how easily I could raise the donations for my colleague, or how the children I teach, talk to each other, mirroring my words and actions.
I am now a moderator for the British Business Group, which keeps me on my toes. It also gives me insights into the use and abuse of social media; how easily things can be misinterpreted when non-verbal cues are missed and the vernacular not always shared. It takes some brain power for sure, but I enjoy the role, considering different perspectives and arguments.
I have also had the great opportunity recently to become involved with a new friendship group. When my best girl and best guy departed, I was sure I would find myself lost at times ahead. Meditation, reflection and my own heart song however, led me to trust this would not be so. And this is the case. I’ve had my heart filled with more love in the last month than I remember feeling, perhaps even ever. I have been asked to be the course rep for my Masters due to my community spirit. And I feel like I am receiving gifts of love in such a plethora of ways, that I would not know where to begin. There may even be glimmers of a love story. At least for a moment in time, which is all we ever really have anyhow.
My biggest struggle with my own life here, is not the here but the what. Having traveled all my life, and often solo, I am used to comings and goings. New friends, new love. New homes, new cultures. Recently I became very sick. My nephew called me and asked – could you just be allergic to Africa? This is not the case, by any means. But I do adore having my people around. And I am getting to a stage where I’d like to invest more of me with another. And I am also turning into a bit of a mad cat lady, filling my phone’s storage with cat escapades rather than my own!!
A beloved friend of mine recently gave birth and I happily spent hours with the baby Buddha, as she wriggled and jiggled herself in my lap, moving my supportive arms out of the way in order to sprawl out as much as she could. Unlike me, I was very broody. And funnily enough, lots of people later told me how much it suited me….
The kids I teach right now, are absolutely ones who stole my heart and will keep it forever. I taught them for their first year of school and I am now fortunate to teach them again for their third year. I am not a mother, and it has been a long time since I have had cause to consider being one. But my heart is full of love and I admit, some things are stirring in my mind. Instead of getting so caught up in the humdrum of work, I am slowly slowly allowing other things into life instead.
Different tragedies have beset people around me here (including the devastating news that another friend of mine lost her newborn) and I don’t want to be so busy making a life, that I forget to live it. Times they are a’changing…
Lagos life is becoming reminiscent of my old London life; fast-paced, not enough ‘end’ in my week, long journey times to reach nearby destinations, and opportunities to do so much, that I couldn’t even write it all into my diary let alone fit it in.
Rainy season this time around has been like no other I have known, for this time of year. Having returned to Nigeria at the end of August, it seems like not a single week has passed when the skies haven’t darkened, day has somehow turned into night skies, and plans have been set aside due to heavy downpours. Even yesterday, as I traveled to the beach hoping to get some ‘fresh’ sea air into my lungs for a reprieve, we found ourselves amidst a full canvas of rains, leading us to be wetter than if we had simply jumped from the boat and immersed ourselves within the lagoon. Arriving at the beach house, shivering and having the sensation of being a drowned rat, my simple choice was to submerge myself under the pool’s water. Despite it generally giving me an initial chill to the bone upon entry, I found myself warmed and soothed. Better under the water than it crashing down upon me.
There is so much of this place that I love. Yet I am working all hours that I can manage, still I find I am behind in almost every deadline that I face, and thereby of course, I feel like I don’t see much of these loves….
So, I have now been here for two weeks and have just arrived in my third and final hotel. The weather has not been as good as anticipated; though I knew it was winter here, that had meant for me some very cool evenings but mostly fine days. Instead there has been a lot more rain within this than expected. Yet I admit, I have no reason to complain. I have been off from work, in beautiful surroundings and the wet weather has given me more chance to study.
I would like some more sun rays now though, for my last week here! That said, I have been delighted with stunning sunsets, and glorious rainbows.
It is indeed romance-central across the island, and though I had been pre-warned that much of the island’s draw as a tourist are the spectacular 5 star hotels it boasts, I could never have imagined this until I saw them with my own eyes. (My drive up the East coast yesterday opened my eyes to hotel complexes I have never imagined could exist). Meanwhile, I have now spent time in both the North and South of the island, and thanks to having hired a little car, I have also circumnavigated the whole perimeter of the island and feel I have a good semblance of how it varies from region to region.
I can certainly state that it isn’t an easy place to meet people as a solo traveler, as this seems to be quite unheard of here. And I would most definitely recommend getting a car if you are coming here, whether solo or with others. It takes a lot longer to get to places than I expected given the size of the place, and though the beaches and the hotels are the main draw, you cannot easily get to one from another without transport. Also, in times of inclement weather it is useful to reach another quarter of the island, as chances are where the rainbow ends, the sun will be shining.
This expat life is not the one I ever saw myself taking. I got on that plane years ago, because I wanted to live in Africa. I wanted to wake beneath the African sun, hear the songs of the African sky, and sleep beneath the African stars. Uganda was to be my forever home.
And then it was no more.
It has been a few years now since I have lived in Lagos, Nigeria, and at times it is hard for me to ever imagine living elsewhere, least of all the UK.
It has it’s ups and downs, of that I can be very sure! And often I wonder why I am still living there when it has caused much separation from loved ones and favored foods and places. Yet ultimately I land back upon the same conclusion. Africa continues to live in me. I do not fully know what the magnetism is for me, but it remains. And for now, this pole is centred within Nigeria.
Time is faster than many of us would like and much of it is spent working in order to be able to afford the homes we live in, the clothes we wear, the activities we enjoy doing in those snippets of time when we are no longer at work. There is an adage that many of us are working so that we can reach death, whilst not having the chance to experience life.
This is not the way I want to be.
Taking Sannyasin many years ago was not an easy choice for me. I can get overwhelmed by anxiety within my own mind and I can feel reproachful and guilty for things that have long since been said and done. Most likely forgotten by others, but remnants that stay in my mind and heart. However, as part of my dedication to self-love and also a life of service, I consciously chose to ascribe to Osho’s teachings, practice and guidance. To be accountable for my choices and actions always, but not to be laden down by what has gone before. To grasp life in each breath, to continually make the best choice I can, in that very moment, and to trust that this may not be the same choice I make again, even in the next five minutes, let alone years later. To come from my heart always, and to live, fully, in every breath. Conscious choices, loving mind, practices of kindness, service and honesty. I am often heard repeating my personal mantra –
I will only die once, and in that I will most likely have little say. But I can live every moment, and in that I have all the say in the world.
“I live here, I may as well like it”, I retorted as I discussed the chaos that can be life in Lagos, to my newly-found friend who was visiting me from my beloved Uganda. And herein opened the can of worms that my mind and body has been keeping a rather large lid on.
I haven’t actually been liking it at all. Not inside. Not in my heart. Not in my inspiration.
Was it the fault of Lagos? Was it the fault of the artificiality I feel from ex-pat lifestyle? Was it the fault of my continued chronic pain? Or was it just not “there”, wherever that happens to be?
Perhaps in fact, it was the fault of the intensive physio program I was ensuring I followed, due to my determination to be fully fit, flexible and mobile, so that I could get my life back…