If you are casual reader of my blog, then you know how I feel about Nigeria. But on Saturday morning, life was looking up. Maybe it was because we have hit a stride in the office and really producing good results or maybe it was because I am getting married in less than five months and excited to spend the rest of my life with Sheila. On Saturday morning, I had just finished a good workout playing tennis with my coach Davou and was enjoying a lovely brunch with my friend Kury. It was truly turning out to be a good day!
It was such a good day that without thinking, I told Kury that I was starting to “like” living in Abuja. She was in shock! She couldn’t believe that I had uttered those words. She quickly reminded me of my past statements about Abuja and living in Nigeria. I told her that when you compare Abuja to Juba, South Sudan (where I was living before moving to Abuja), it was worlds apart. (Some context – I met Kury while living in South Sudan. We both lived on the same compound in Juba. She is here in Nigeria on a short-term consultancy. Sadly, she leaves next week).
But less than two hours after making that statement, I was back to my old sentiments. Kury and I decided to venture to the outdoor market (Wuse Market) to purchase fabric. She was looking for fabric to take back to the U.S. and I was looking for items to compliment the wedding. As usually, I approached an intersection in Abuja, stopped to check traffic and made a right turn. Just as I did, I was flagged down by the Nigerian Police Force. I was completely confused on why I was being stopped. I rolled down the passenger window and was informed that I had ‘beaten’ the traffic light (Nigerians say ‘beaten’ as we Americans say ‘ran’.) I politely informed the police official that the light was not working when I came through the intersection. We went back and forth about whether the traffic signal was working or was not working. I was trying to stay calm because I knew that if I became combative and disrespectful, he would make the situation worse. Finally he said, usually, we impound the car and fine you N15,000 (about $75.00) for violating the traffic signal. Again, in a polite manner I told him that I always stop at traffic signals, even when the cars behind me “frustrates” me with their horns. Traffic signals in Abuja are a relatively new addition to crowded intersection. When I arrived in 2014, most of the major intersections had traffic signals but it wasn’t until after the presidential election that traffic signals began to appear all around town. And sadly, 60 percent of the population don’t respect the traffic signals and often continues through the intersection without stopping.
A stop-sign at an intersection in Abuja. You can also see a traffic signal in the background that is not working. Stop signs are often used as bulletin boards in Abuja.
I was completely surprised that police had stopped me (of all people). Kury, who is never shy at letting you know how she feels was as quiet as a mouse. I imagine she was trying not to show her displeasure at our unfortunate incident. The police officer continued on his “soap box” about the importance of following the traffic code before handing me my license. He asked me several times, “what do we do now?” before eventually saying, “What do you have for me and my friends.” At this time, Kury spoke up and asked, “What does that mean?” We both knew what he was asking. I was incensed that he was trying to use my situation to extort a bribe. He again made the request and reminded me that he could just take me down to the station. I relented and gave him N1000 ($5.00). I rolled up the window and slowly pulled away. Kury then asked, “How do you feel about being in Nigeria now?” My response – “I get so frustrated being in this country.” It’s amazing what two hours can do to you in Abuja…
Sheila and I are delighted to announced the date of our wedding ceremony and reception. In addition, we have dates for the Gusaba (the traditional ceremony) and for our friends in the United States, a reception to celebrate our nuptials.
For those of you in the United States interested in making the journey to Kigali, please let us know. We have activities planned for those willing to make the exciting journey to the “land of a thousand hills.”
We Have Dates…
Gusaba – Sunday, May 29, 2016 – Kigali, Rwanda
Wedding – Saturday, June 4, 2016 – Kigali, Rwanda
U.S. Reception – Sunday, July 10, 2016 – Satsuma, Alabama
It’s been hard waking up since getting back to Nigeria. Maybe I am still trying to shake jet lag or maybe I just miss being in the United States (mixture of both). For two weeks, Sheila and I crisscrossed Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland visiting family and catching up with friends. It was a whirlwind tour for Sheila as it was her first trip to the US and the dreaded – meet the family visit.
L to R: Sheila and I with my parents in Mount Vernon. Sheila riding the four-wheeler with my cousin Kayland. Sheila and I at the “loveliest village on the plains.”
I warned her on many occasions that accents in the south are very thick and difficult to understand. I admit I have some difficulties understanding my southern brothers and sisters since being away from Alabama for so long. The Saturday before Christmas, my cousin Truly and I were traveling back from Baton Rouge, Louisiana and stopped at a fuel station to fill up. When I went in to pay for gas, the woman had such a strong southern/Cajun accent that I was completely confused on what she was saying. I smiled, paid for fuel and hoped I wasn’t being disrespectful by not responding to her comments.
I think Sheila experienced several of these occasions but like any confused person, you smile, nod your head and hope there are no follow up questions. When you go out to eat in the US, there are numerous decisions that you have to make even before you order your meal. Just ordering your beverage overwhelms you – large or small, hot or cold, ice and/or lemon, etc. Sheila also found out the hard way that chips in the US means potato chips and not French fries. This situation came up a few times during our adventure.
I could say that the U.S. overwhelmed Sheila but to be honest, we were overwhelmed with American shopping malls (boy how I miss a good old shopping mall), swallowed by the enormity of New York City and amazed by the train whistle that we often hear in American movies (that was more Sheila than myself). Despite the fact I have ridden Amtrak trains before, I am always amazed at how much more comfortable it is to travel by train than by plane. Sadly, the US has ignored the benefits of train travel and only the northeast is easily accessible by train.
Sheila and I made a trip to Rwanda to visit her friends the Mugishas (left) and my college friends (right).
The fact that we were both overwhelmed in the US is best illustrated by our last day in Washington, DC. We had a packed schedule when we awoke on January 2. Our first stop was a quick run to the large box store, Target in Seven Corners, Virginia. It was my first visit to a Target-like store since my arrival in the U.S. I needed to pick up medication and other supplies to take back to Nigeria. We made a mad dash through the store and were then off to meet my friend Dave Young for breakfast. Dave Young is one of my favorite individuals to catch up with and it is always hard for me to end conversations with him. He always seems to ask the right questions about my spiritual life and how I am surviving Nigeria. The conversation always ends with a spirited discussion about American politics. After an hour and a half with Dave, Sheila and I were off to do more shopping. It was now noon and we still needed to pack and drive the 40 miles to Dulles airport. Our United flight to Brussels, Belgium departed at 5:55pm and I was estimating we needed to leave Washington, D.C. by 3:00pm to have adequate time to check-in for the flight. However, we continued to run around D.C. picking up items requested by family and friends and items for my office. We got back to the house at 2:15pm and had only 45 minutes to pack. However, when 3:00pm came, we were nowhere near departure and I was starting to panic.
At 3:40pm, we were finally ready to leave D.C. and head off to the airport. I was trying to convince myself that we were going to make it. But flying out of Dulles is never really easy and the security line is often long and chaotic. I prayed, not that we would arrive in time for our flight but that God would grant me peace with whatever happens when we EVENTUALLY arrived at the airport. If we missed the flight, I would be ok with missing the flight. At least we would be in Washington, D.C. I knew that we also had to return the rental car and then check-in for our flight so I kept saying to Sheila, “only one of us will catch the flight because there IS NO WAY we could RETURN the car and navigate the security process in the airport.” I was preparing myself for the worst-case scenario – one of us missing the flight – ME.
You cannot go to the U.S. without visiting our monuments to the ‘free world.’ The U.S. Capitol is one of my favorites tours in Washington, D.C. I love rediscovering the Capitol each time I enter the historic building. We were joined by Sheila’s cousins Mark and Marvin who were also spending New Years in D.C. The bottom photo is of Sheila and my cousin Cathy. We randomly ran into Cathy in Arundel Mills mall. It was so great to see her.
We arrived at the airport at 4:30pm (once again my superior driving skills save the day). Unsure if I had enough time to return the car and catch our flight, I parked the car in the hourly parking lot unloaded our mountain of luggage and off we ran to the terminal. I put the car key in the middle console and left the rear driver side door unlocked. As we darted into the terminal, I called my friend Jenny Martin and asked her if she would be willing to come to the airport on Sunday and return the rental car. Because Jenny is such an AMAZING friend, she agreed to come to the airport and return the car. We then joked about whether the car would still be in the parking lot on Sunday. (Thankfully, the car was still in the parking lot on Sunday).
Our prayers were answered as the United desk was free and we were able to proceed to the desk. There were a few challenges checking in but after 10 minutes, we were on our way to the security line. We arrived at the gate just as they were calling for zones to board the flight. Because of my gold status with Star Alliance, Sheila and I were able to board the airline first but we were then presented with our next challenge. I was given a new boarding pass to upgrade to business class. I typically only fly United in hopes of snagging an upgrade. But most times, my hopes of grabbing that “golden ticket” are dashed. Sheila was not upgraded because our tickets were purchased separately because we were flying from different destinations. I tried to convince Sheila to take the upgrade but she didn’t want to take it (who doesn’t want an upgrade to Business class. Clearly the passenger boarding behind us was all too ready to take the upgrade).
I tried negotiating with United to allow me to purchase an upgrade for Sheila but was told that they were unable to process the upgrade on the plane. Another flight attendee approached me to inquire about the nature of my problem. I told her that fiancée and I had been separated by my upgrade and I was trying to get her a seat in Business Class. She smiled and said, “That’s very sweet of you.” I then asked her, “What would you do in my situation.” She laughed and told me good luck. I approached Sheila to discuss my options but her seat neighbor kept chiming in with, “I’ll take the seat.” I went back to Business Class to consider my options. It didn’t take long. When I was booking our tickets to the United States, it was difficult ensuring that Sheila and I could be on the same flight. The airlines that fly into Abuja are not the same airlines that fly to Kigali. So, there was no way we could easily travel together. For us to be on this plane, it required me to fly to Brussels, spend the night and then fly to Abuja. Why would I go through all this trouble and not sit next to Sheila. I decided to give the upgrade to Nathaniel, who was sitting next to Sheila. I told Nathaniel that “today is your lucky day.” He said that he was traveling to Freetown to bury his father. So, it wasn’t his lucky day. But I told him that I hoped the seat would be a blessing to him as he was grieving his father. And like that, Sheila and I settled in for our 7.5-hour flight to Brussels and an end to our United States adventure.
I mentioned in a blog a year ago that when I was preparing to come to Nigeria, my colleague “googled” me to learn more about me (https://fredayinafrica.com/2015/01/29/i-googled-you-when-i-heard-that-you-were-coming-to-nigeria/). And, as I admitted in that blog, I often “google” myself just to see what the world-wide-web is saying about me. Say what you want to say, but I would like to keep the information that the world-wide-web is putting out about me positive and as private as possible. I recognize that with a Facebook page, a Twitter account and a blog, my life is available for the world to see but there are still things I like to keep private. In one of my recent searches, I ran across an essay I wrote for the Alabama Community College System celebrating 50 years.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am a lover of all things Auburn. I am a proud graduate of the “loveliest village on the plains” and proudly sports Auburn’s emblem on all my clothes, including those items made in Nigeria. But just as proud as I am about being an Auburn Alum, I am proud that I chose to spend my first two years at James H. Faulkner State Community College (http://www.faulknerstate.edu/). I can’t say that my initial choice of attending Faulkner State was an easy one. After high school, I dreamed of escaping small town life in Mount Vernon, Alabama and heading off to a far flung destination. But after discussing the decision with my parents, my school counselor and several teachers, I decided the offer to attend Faulkner was to go to pass up. I was given a presidential scholarship that covered my tuition for two years and eventually served as a Resident Assistant which covered my room and board for my second year. And nearly 20 years after making that decision, I have no regrets. It was the right place for me despite the few naysayers that disagreed with my decision. Faulkner was the launching pad I needed. It prepared me for my transfer to Auburn and has prepared me for the stops that I have made on my professional journey.
I wanted to share this essay and to celebrate Faulkner State for its often invisible, yet important role it has played in my life. It’s easy to celebrate Auburn because each fall I decorate my Nigerian apartment in orange and blue and follow the progress of the football team. But for Faulkner, there is no football team, only memories of basketball games, annual trips to Gatlinburg and friends who are still in my life today.
http://alabamasfuture.com/sentell-f-barnes/
Faulkner State Community College was the launching pad that propelled me into life. I knew I was not ready for a large college environment where I would be lost among thousands of students. Faulkner State’s intimate class size and smaller student body was the right mix for my education on the Bay Minette campus and my continued success in life.
I gained important leadership skills serving as Student Government Association vice president and management skills as a resident assistant in on campus housing. These skills are now on display as I work in South Sudan building leadership and organizational skills among political party leaders in the world’s newest country.
When I was deciding what college to attend, one of my high school advisors was flabbergasted that I was planning to attend a community college. Her words to me were, “You are throwing away your collegiate experience by attending a community college.” While she had a right to her opinion, her sentiment only increased my desire to succeed at Faulkner and prove her wrong in the process.
In many ways, I was following tradition. My mother had attended an Alabama community college before continuing her education at a four-year university. And in other ways, I was starting a tradition of students from my hometown attending Faulkner State before transferring to four-year universities (many of those students would follow me to Auburn University). Faulkner State’s success is not determined by the misguided views of a few, instead its success is determined by the professional successes of its former students.
Today, I am a proud graduate of Faulkner State Community College and I am using the skills I developed at FSC to steer the newest African nation towards a free and open democratic government.
Well, it seems that the Turkish Airlines baggage issue continued and eventually came to head when frustrated passengers stormed the runway and blocked a Turkish Airlines aircraft from departing Abuja on December 20. After arriving in Abuja and not being able to locate their bags, the passengers overran airport staff and stormed out on the tarmac to surround the Turkish Airlines plane waiting to take off later that night. One frustrated passenger laid down in front of the wheel to keep the airline from taking off. I wrote about this issue in my blog on December 16 – if-you-have-magically-powers-and-can-make-my-bag-appear-i-would-appreciate-it/.
Photo credit: @adesphur and @pendragonnnn
I’m happy to see airport authorities and Turkish Airlines taking this issue seriously. While all blame goes to the airline for not informing passengers of the backlog when they checked in for their flight, the chaos that exist on the ground in Abuja only exacerbates the issue. What frustrates me about this issue, and how you get things done in Nigeria is that you have to raise your voice and threaten a mutiny at the airport to get a response from officials. But this is not an isolated incident as it happens every day throughout Nigeria. A few months ago, I was traveling in Nigeria and a woman was told that the hotel was unable to assist her with issue. She began to raise her voice and eventually caused a scene. The hotel then relented and caved in to her demands. My staff tells me every day that I need to be more aggressive and raise my voice to ensure that I get the service I demand. But that is not who I am.
@adesphur and @pendragonnnn
I recently had another baggage issue. But the outcome was completely different. The airline (United) and the staff on the ground handled the situation in a professional manner and within 12 hours of arriving, my bag arrived at my hotel. I was even able to track my “lost” luggage as it was making its way from Washington-Dulles airport to Frankfurt and then to Brussels, Belgium. United Airlines and Swissport was in constant communication with me to let me know my bag was on the way. It was a stark difference from my baggage fiasco with Turkish Airlines and the Abuja International Airport.
December 15 finally arrived…it was the day I had been looking forward to for some time and as you may have guessed it, it was departure from Nigeria for my Christmas vacation. The past few months had been exceptionally difficult as we had a lot of activities and several fires that we needed to extinguish in the office. In additional, I found myself in numerous angry, uncomfortable situations with random Nigerians and it was time for my usual break from the country. In addition, Sheila and I would be spending our first Christmas together with my family in my Mount Vernon. There was a lot to look forward to outside of Nigeria.
However, my December 15 departure was symbolic of a departure that I made two years ago. Two years ago, an unexpected (but not surprising) conflict started in Juba, South Sudan that quickly spread like wildfire throughout the newest nation in the world. Within days hundreds would be killed and thousands forced into United Nation camps throughout the country. But for me, and thousand other Americans, we were whisked to the safety of neighboring countries only to hear about the trials of our colleagues left to manage an unmanageable situation. December 15 will forever be itched in my mind as the day South Sudan plummeted into a lengthy nightmare that sadly continues…
As faith would have it my seat partner on my Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt (from Abuja) was from Alabama. He was a odd looking gentleman, a mixed between a sumo wrestler and a confederate general. He was a large man with a sparkling bald head and a long beard with various gray strains. When he spoke, he serenaded me with a thick southern accent that reminded me of my childhood days in Alabama. Strangely, we didn’t talk the entire flight until he got up from his seat to retrieve his bag at the conclusion of our 6 hour flight. He said, “that’s a bad sweatshirt you have on there,” referring to my sweatshirt with an auburn logo. I smiled and said, “please don’t tell me I have been sitting next to an Alabama fan all this time.” He said, “yes you have.” I asked where he was headed and he said, “Mobile.” I told him that I too was heading to Mobile but was stopping in Washington DC first and then proceeding to Mobile on Friday. And that was the end of our brief conversation because he preceded down the aisle and exited the plane.
When I exited the plane and found him on the bus, I approached him because I was curious what he was doing in Nigeria. He told me that he worked on the oil rigs offshore (which made complete sense). I was surprised that he wasn’t flying out of Lagos which had a direct flight to either Houston or Atlanta. He told me that he had been in Nigeria for a year but lived mostly on the oil rig. He said, “I’ve spent sometime in Abuja before, and it was nice. Much more civilized than Port Harcourt, the oil rich city on the Atlantic coast.” His comments made me cringe as I could not believe he had just said that…and very loudly. He continued to talk about the “uncivilized” people in the south and how he was happy he spent most of his time on the oil rig. I tried my best to change the conversation and started talking about Alabama football. It worked as he now focused on how amazing Nick Saban was and how Alabama was going to destroy Michigan State (which was an excellent prophecy). I smile and provided some banter before the bus stopped at the terminal. I said goodbye to him and went to find the gate for my flight to Dulles.
The conversation got me to thinking about the stereotypes we carry and who decides who is civilized and who is not? Is there a world standard that we follow to put people into the civilize category? Or did he just mean developed and accidentally used civilized? I often tell my Nigerian colleagues when they make outlandish references to the U.S. that people in the U.S. also have stereotypes about Africans, so we should be carefully how we use them.
But it’s important to educate ourselves about how others live. If civilize is defined by how many people use a typical western style toilet, than a majority of the world is uncivilized. Or maybe it’s how many people shop in a shopping mall or sleep on a bed or have access to drinking water? Who knows…but what saddened me about our conversation was that this guy had a privileged position to become a student of the world and experience a culture and a people that was foreign to him. Instead, he was choosing to remain ignorant and uniformed.
One of the things I appreciate most about living in Nigeria is the random conversations that I find myself in with coworkers or other individuals. I often use these moments to compare and contrast the differences between the U.S. and Nigeria and also an opportunity to either educate myself or those around me. These conversations help me to see how U.S. influence in the world both helps and hurts various causes and issues. The U.S. is an important actor on the world stage but sometimes our role can blur the line between bully and helpful advisory. I have seen the role play out several times in Nigeria and on the African continent. Stepping outside the shores of my homeland has helped me to see and understand the role the U.S. plays on the world stage. This is what I hoped my seating partner would have come to appreciate about living in a distance land. Instead, he chose to remind a stranger in a foreign land…as so many of us choose to do!
I was hoping to post this blog during my Christmas vacation but didn’t have my computer which meant I was unable to log-in to my blog…funny…
I know what you are thinking, “Sentell, you have lived in Nigeria for nearly two years and your happiest moments are boarding a flight to take you out of Nigeria!” It is true that I have lived in Nigeria for almost two years (May 26 will make two years) and for the most part, I have settled into Nigeria. While there are still a few things lacking that would improve my outlook here in Nigeria, life really isn’t that bad. But what wears on me is how difficult life can be here in Nigeria. Nothing is as simple as running out to do a quick errand. Everything comes with the stress and frustration of conducting business in a country that often lacks the necessary infrastructure to accomplish simple task. As usual, this story takes places at the Abuja International Airport. Last week, I returned from a business trip to Istanbul. Before I focus on the bad part of this story, let’s focus on the good news. I love Istanbul! It is one of my favorite cities in the world to visit. I love the history, historical ruins and the fact that the city straddles two continents. It just a wonderful place to be amazed.
On my return trip to Nigeria, Turkish Airlines was experiencing backup in checked bags. Now the fault of this story lies with the airline as they should have given us a heads up in Istanbul that the flight was experiencing a significant delay in the delivery of checked bags. I could have better prepared myself. When it became obvious that my bag was not arriving on Tuesday night (that was after standing at the luggage carousal for nearly two hours), I, like the hundreds of other Nigerians, approached the airport worker to inform him that my bag was missing. It’s important to note that queues or standing in line (for my American friends) don’t really exist in Nigeria. People usually rush the desk and race to see who can stretch the farthest to force their documents in the face of the airline staff. The worker took my baggage claim number and told me that my bags would arrive on the next Turkish flight – scheduled to land on Thursday night.
On Wednesday, I flew to Ibadan in Southwest Nigeria. So I just figured that when I returned to Abuja on Friday, my bag would be at the airport and I would collect it on the way home. Boy, was I wrong. When I approached the airport representative he had no clue where the Turkish Airline bags were and eventually directed me to a room where bags were stacked as high as my head. I stood for about 15 minutes in shock and amazement. ‘How was I going to go through all these bags?’ After about 10 minutes of moving bags from one side of the room to the next, I quickly came to the realization that my bag was nowhere to be found. I was told I should come back on Saturday when the next flight arrive.
So, just as I was told, I made the 45 minute drive to the airport on Saturday and was met with the same confusion and lack of information. The unclaimed baggage room was even worst. In a fit of angry, I went bag by bag organizing the room and making sure I put my hand on each bag in the room. When I left the room, the room was completely organized! Any individual would be able to walk into the room and immediately identify their bag. While I did not find my bag, I felt better knowing that I would make the situation better for others. HOWEVER, I am sure the chaos returned to the room the next day.
I left the airport defeated and a bit angry because no one seemed to be concerned that my bag was missing. When I contacted the customer service line of Turkish Airline, I was told that because I did not fill out a lost baggage form, there was nothing they could do. At the end of the conversation, when the agent asked if there was anything else he could do to assist me, I said, “if you have magic powers and can make my bag appear, I would appreciate it.” He hesitated and said, “I’m sorry, can you repeat?” I said “never mind” and ended the phone call.
Later Saturday evening, I decided that I needed to go back to the airport to meet the next Turkish Air flight that would be arriving at 11:30pm. I didn’t necessary want to make the trip by myself because Abuja can get a bit tricky late at night and I typically don’t like to travel by myself late at night. I reached out to a colleague to gauge his advice about going to the airport by myself. He kept stressing that it won’t be safe for me to make the trip by myself and would be at my house in 20 minutes. I felt bad asking him to leave his home at 11:00pm to accompany me to the airport but he did and I greatly appreciate it. And, I am glad that I made the trip because within 15 minutes of being at the airport, I had my bag in hand and we were on our way back to my house. The four day baggage ordeal was over…I was reunited with my prized possession, my Turkish delight…
The Turkish Airline baggage issue has become a pressing issue for Abuja passengers. Another colleague who flew back from Turkey on Thursday after me is still without his bag. On Monday, other affected passengers blocked a section of the Abuja airport to protest the impunity by Turkish Airlines. Sadly, the saga continues for Turkish passengers arriving in Abuja.
While most shoppers in the United States (and sadly now shoppers in the United Kingdom) were out fighting other consumers for $100 televisions and buy-one-get-one-free comforter sets, I was preparing to pop-the-question to my girlfriend! I decided on Thanksgiving weekend because that time has sentimental value as it was the time when Sheila Mutesi was introduced to me – not in person but in theory…
Five years ago, I was asked to serve as a groomsman in the wedding of my friend Myal Greene. The wedding was in Rwanda and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be in his wedding (and experience a cultural wedding – meaning not in the U.S.). As it turns out, Sheila was also in Myal and Sharon’s wedding…but as a hostess. Sheila and I never uttered a word to each other during the wedding. We have since discovered that during one of the post wedding ceremonies, we were standing next to each other…
Sheila is in the red, touching her shoe. Next to her holding the camera is me…we had no clue what the future held at that time.
Flash forward to November 2013…I had recently moved to South Sudan and was spending Thanksgiving with Myal and Sharon. During dinner one night, Myal and Sharon introduced a very interesting scenario…a pseudo-blind date with one of their friends. We were unable to set up anything during that trip so I completely changed my Christmas vacation to make sure I would be back in Kigali for New Years to met Sheila. Strangely, I actually met Sheila at her house because Myal and Sharon were visiting her mom who was recovering from a brief illness. It was a bit uncomfortable but a few nights later we had dinner with Myal and Sharon to celebrate New Years. After our meeting at New Years, it would be another 8 months before we met again. The situation in South Sudan at the time had me bouncing around the world until I landed in Nigeria. It was one of the factors that contributed to my unhappiness in Nigeria.
During that time, we chatted through Facebook, Whatsapp, and on the phone. In August 2014, I made a trip to Rwanda to make sure she was interested in Sentell and we officially started dating in January 2015. Since that time, we have been crisscrossing the African continent spending random weekends together and celebrating each other’s birthdays. I decided in August that I wanted to ask Sheila to be my wife and started planning for that moment.
Because of my busy work schedule, I settled on Thanksgiving weekend because I would be able to step away from work for a few days. I had the help of Myal and Sharon, Sheila’s best friend and brother to pull off the surprise. I had her friend set up a dinner with her on Friday night. Sheila had no clue that I was in the country. When her friend stepped away from the table, I approached Sheila and asked, “having dinner without me?” She was completely shocked and it took her nearly 15 minutes to calm her down before I was able to “pop the question.” When I finally did, she said yes! And here we are…its sometimes hard to believe that I’m engaged to be married! But I am blessed to find a woman who loves me and willing to look pass my faults.
Photos from the proposal.
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/x360fq7leb1qxzb/AADRSNmHRGAA-4k_INKvmWM8a?dl=0
So Sheila and I are now planning to spend our lives together. Wedding details are still incomplete but we will be sharing those details very soon. We would appreciate your prayers during this busy time for couples. There are a lot of details…even choosing various shades of colors!
I have come to NOT enjoy traveling within Nigeria, especially when it comes to flying. And it’s not for the obvious reason – concern for airplane maintenance. It has to do with a lack of consideration for my time…and not just MY time but for the time of all airline passengers. The most notorious of the airlines is Arik. It’s so bad that if you talk to anyone in Nigeria, they will tell you to consider any of the other airlines. And some locations are worse than others. A few weeks ago, I was flying to Port Hartcourt, a city in southern Nigeria on the Atlantic Ocean. My flight was supposed to depart at 4pm but instead left at 5:30pm. On the return trip, it was supposed to depart at 8:40am. When I checked in, I was told that it would depart at 9:40am and once I entered the waiting area, was told that it was now scheduled for 12:40pm. I spent the entire day waiting in the airport before finally landing in Abuja around 2:00pm.
I found myself in a similar situation on Friday…but this time, I didn’t have the luxury of waiting all day in the airport. While I was stuck in Sokoto waiting for my plane to arrive from Abuja, Sheila was arriving from Kigali because we were attending the Marine Ball at the Hilton. The question should be, why were you in Sokoto when you knew Sheila was arriving from Kigali? Great Question…
On Wednesday evening around 9:30pm, I received a call from one of my staff informing me that the Governor of Sokoto (who is also the former speaker of the Nigerian House of Representatives) has agreed to meet with IRI on Thursday at 2:30pm. My staffer could tell that I was not happy as Sheila was arriving on Friday and he knew how I felt about traveling in Nigeria. After about an hour of debate (with my colleague and with my inter-self), I relented and told him lets book airline tickets to Sokoto. On Thursday we jetted off to the airport only to experience a very brief delay. It turns out that the Governor of neighboring Kebbi State was on our plane and we had to wait on his entourage to board the plane (again, why I hate traveling in Nigeria). We arrived in Sokoto and had a very good meeting with the Governor of Sokoto. He spoke highly of IRI and the work we are doing to expand women participation in the electoral process. On Friday, we gathered in the lobby of our hotel only to discover that our 12:30pm flight had been pushed back to 1:30pm. The Aero Contractors flight was originally the first flight out of Sokoto but now, it was the second flight out and there was not another flight (if this flight was canceled). I debated with my staff on what to do and in the end, decided to wait for our flight. At the same time, Sheila was arriving in Abuja. I organized transportation for her and sent her to my house to rest. Finally, at 1:45pm our flight departed Sokoto and landed in Abuja around 2:30pm. Luckily there was just enough time for me to race home, greet Sheila and get ready for the Marine Ball.
James, Audra, Sheila and myself at the Marine Corps Ball
We were both excited about the Marine Ball because it was like going to Prom (a first for Sheila). We both had special outfits created for our first big social event. I went for the Nigeria “Big-Man” look and Sheila went for the always modern and classy black and white. We had a great time dancing the night away and were joined by my good friend Kury Cobham. Kury and I attended the 2013 Marine Ball in Juba South Sudan.
Sheila, myself and Kury at the 2015 Marine Corps Ball
A few weeks ago, I had a meeting at the European Union. I was meeting the new head of political affairs for the delegation. When I arrived at the gate, the security officer asked me for identification. I normally use my IRI identification but I reached for my Alabama driver’s license because it was easiest to grab. I presented it to the security officer who passed it into the window for the gentleman to make a copy. When he finished filling out the forms to allow me in, the gentleman said, “You know this is a foreign ID?” I said, “Yes, it’s my Alabama driver’s license.” He looked down at the ID and looked at me and said, “Next time, please just use your Nigerian identification.” Before I knew it, I had broken into laughter. I looked at him and said, “That would be impossible because I don’t have a Nigerian identification.” The woman security officer then asked, “Are you Nigerian?” I said no, I am an American. The man behind the counter yelled, “what, you are not a Nigerian? Well, you are dressed like one!” By this time, I was starting to cause a scene as other Nigerians were approaching the gate amazed that I was not a Nigerian. One man told me that I looked like people living in his village and if I was to go back with him, they would make me a king. I told him that one day, we will go and visit Imo State and I would await to be crown king.This is a typical day in the life of Sentell in Nigeria. And I guess I don’t make it easier by dressing like a Nigerian! The photo from above is the outfit I had on that day I visited the EU.
A FREDAY in AFRICA! 