Justin Scully, The New Breed Of VSOs

The number of people joining Voluntary Service Overseas has plummeted since 11 September. But security fears did not put off Justin Scully, as he tells in our series on expatriate readers of BBC News Online.

VSO Justin Scully

I came out to Nigeria last February on a two-year placement with VSO, having left my job managing pubs and restaurants for Scottish and Newcastle. I decided to volunteer because after 10 years working in and benefiting from the ‘system’, I wanted to give something back.

I live in a small village called Offatedo in the southwest of Nigeria. My role is to help communities develop small businesses, as well as helping show the government how small businesses can help alleviate poverty.

I’ve come across no anti-Western feeling except T-shirts with “Osama bin Laden - My Hero”. I feel safer in Nigeria—its unique internal problems aside—than I would in the UK. Nigeria might do many odd things, but it’s never going to bomb Iraq to get oil.

It’s a shame VSO numbers have fallen because volunteers living at community level are in a really strong position to relate the different cultures together and put a human face on “Western” values. Only by working face-to-face can 9/11 and poverty - the two are surely related - be prevented.
‘I’ve been shot at’!

Nigeria is a country that has a very poor image in the West; I find it diverse, vibrant, fascinating—and frightening. Security can be an issue, as shown by the furor over the Miss World contest. Miss World decamped to London after the riots.

The village pump in Justin's village Offatedo.

It’s not unusual to pass 10 armed police checkpoints in a 100 km journey. To travel at night is to run the gauntlet of all too frequent armed robberies—I’d been shot at twice before I’d been here three months.

Corruption is endemic and political; religious and ethnic tensions are not very far
below the surface in a country where immense wealth and extreme poverty are everyday sights.
Basic facilities are erratic at best: electricity is provided by NEPA, which I am assured stands for No Electric Power Always. I’m regularly without power for five hours a day, but I’ve learnt to cook and shave by candlelight.

I earn $100 a month—much more than a teacher or policeman.

Clean running water is a luxury - my longest period without it is six weeks, but collecting water from the well is a great way to learn village gossip.

I have no TV (even if I had one there is only one channel, and back to the electricity problem), no cinema, no theatre, no phone, no cheese, no fresh milk, no wine and, worst of all, no chocolate.
But after you get used to all these deprivations—and you very quickly do—it’s the immense kindness, humour and generosity that keeps you going a long way from home.

To begin with, rural Nigeria outside the oil producing areas sees very few Europeans. On my initial trips to market I felt like the Pied Piper leading a crowd of small children all chanting “oyibo pepe”. Oyibo means white man; pepe is pepper, for the strange colour white people go in the sun.

Every sight and sound has been an eye-opener Now if I leave my village for more than a few days, on my return I am embraced by a crowd of children shouting “Mr Justin, ekaabo”, which means welcome.
That a European would come to Nigeria and live in a village rather than an air-conditioned compound, has endeared me to the community. The fact that I earn about $100 a month—much more than a teacher or policeman - has been greeted with incomprehension.

And being an ex-pat has given me a new perspective on my home country. A Nigerian who comes to the UK will certainly have access to electricity, running water, education and healthcare—which only the rich have access to in Nigeria—but would they enjoy the overwhelming welcome I’ve received here?
Permission to reprint requested. from the BBC.
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(Re) Introducing Elechi Amadi
(Part 1 of 2)

Again, as there was no formal training, mannerisms in military protocol ran riot. Take saluting, for instance. The hand executed a movement which was a cross between a slap and an attempt to remove an imaginary fly perched on the forehead. Marching was a half-dance, and this was because the left foot was for some unknown reason not allowed to overtake the right. and also because the arms were swung mostly in front of the body. The dancing effect was enhanced by the fact that marching was always done to the rhythms of melodious native airs. People thought of these men more as ‘fighters’ than as soldiers, and of course any healthy man could fight. And herein lay the tragedy, for people thought of warfare in terms of inter-village free-for-all skirmishes, in which ferocity and sheer brute force determined the winners. And so a man was ready to go to war armed with a dagger and cudgels. (143-44)

Oshogbo Twenty-three Years Later

By Victoria Scott, Black Art Studio, Santa Fe

Returning to Nigeria after 23 years felt like a real homecoming; I was filled with excitement and apprehension. I lived on the campus of the University of Lagos as a faculty wife for ten good years during the post-war, oil boom of the 70’s. The experience was not entirely positive, but it was unquestionably life-changing.

Nike Okundaye-Davies(l), Buraimoh Gbadamosi, and I(r) at Suzanne Wenger's house in Oshogbo, July 2003

I was a student of traditional Nigerian art, and when I got there, I met the beginnings of the Oshogbo Movement. It was an exciting time and place and I will always feel privileged to have been witness to the beginnings of a movement that continues to be a strong influence in Nigeria and beyond. I continued to follow the careers of many of the original artists after I left the country, and I helped them show their work overseas. I wanted to go back to see what had happened to Oshogbo art and artists.

Somewhere over the Sahara, I read a small paragraph in the NY Times about an impending general strike in Nigeria. The more things change… The government was trying to raise the heavily subsidized price of gasoline to be more in line with world markets and to stem rampant smuggling. Since even the proposed price was still far short of what is paid in most of the world, it didn’t seem unreasonable. Why all the fuss?

The strike went into effect the day after I arrived. The country was paralyzed with stunning efficiency and my stay in Lagos was extended. The city has changed even more than I have. I felt the familiar, invigorating Nigerian energy but it has an unnerving new edge. The euphoria of the post war oil boom has transformed into something more desperate and sinister.

I came to understand how critical the price of petrol is to hard-pressed people who see the government subsidy as the only benefit coming to them from their country’s oil which flows so inexorably overseas. Too many Nigerians are living too close to the edge; they can’t afford even the few pennies increase in living costs that the rising price of fuel would trigger.

Some Nigerians continue to make a lot of money. An industry has grown up by producing massive welded gates that secure handsome homes. A great deal of art and originality goes into them, but the surrounding walls are topped with ugly razor wire. The future seems not so much bleak as uncertain.

Oshogbo has grown in size but seems less changed than Lagos. No skyscrapers, highways, or shopping malls here, but what was bush at the edge of town is now more of the same concrete block, multistory buildings teeming with life and enterprise.
The town still benefits from its reputation as a center of art and culture. The shrines bring a diminished, but still steady, stream of visitors, especially in August when the Oshun Festival draws natives home and visitors from every corner.

Suzanne Wenger’s presence remains strong in the town and in the groves, She turned 88 this year, and she continues to work on the shrines. A community of believers sustains her and her work. They are not zealots in the religious standoff that preoccupies the rest of the world, so much as they are believers in their own spiritual identity. The thoughtful Muslim guide, who waits daily for the occasional visitor, feels no contradiction between his avowed faith and his devotion to the shrines. “This is our history”, he says simply, even as he recounts the fabulous exploits of rivers, gods, and culture heroes. History still lives in Oshogbo.

The artists no longer form the close knit creative community I knew in the 70’s. Of the “original” Oshogbo artists who emerged in the 1960’s, many, such as Jimoh Buraimoh and Adebisi Fabunmi, were overseas at the time of my visit. Several maintain homes and galleries in Oshogbo.

The Ecstatic Crucifixion, a linocut by Jacob Afolabi (above)

Jacob Afolabi, now the most senior among all the Oshogbo artists, is Director of the old museum after more than 20 years. His work is still bold in conception and execution and shows flashes of brilliance. Muraina Oyelami is a king-maker chief in nearby Iragbeji and deeply involved in the responsibilities of traditional office. I feel great pleasure at the evidence of my old friend’s good life and success.
We all mourned the passing of Rufus Ogundele. whose quiet integrity earned everyone’s respect. His work reflected his life. Tijani Mayakiri is also gone, and Ashiru Olatunde, Jinadu Oladepo, and Duro Ladipo. It is painful to remember how many have passed away.

But who would have imagined 30 years ago that the quiet third wife, Niké, of Twins Seven Seven, the rising star of the movement, would be arguably the most successful among them at the dawning of the 21st century. Seven Seven’s hard-working assistant learned her job very well and struck out on her own. By one time-honored measure of a person’s ‘worth’ i.e. how many houses he or she can build, Niké’s success outstrips her colleagues. She has guest houses, galleries, workshops not only in Oshogbo but also in Lekki, Lagos, in her hometown of Ogidi, and in Abuja.

Besides running all the properties and businesses, Niké also founded, directs and is head teacher at the Niké Centre for Art and Culture. I am amazed at the insight and knowledge she has regarding the lives and characters of each of her students. I asked her the secret of her effective teaching, and she said, “You have to follow up on all their assignments and correct their mistakes.” I observe that much of her teaching is by example. Niké’s generous nature inspires her to share the secrets of her success; that is her lesson.

A cultural troupe associated with the school performs traditional dances from every corner of Nigeria and beyond as well as contemporary works. They entertain Niké’s many guests and they have taken their productions to Europe and will soon go to the U.S.

Because her school is tuition free, Niké derives most of her income from her workshops, lectures, and the sale of art. She says she feels sometimes the responsibility is too much, but she says, “somebody has to do it,” and redoubles her efforts.

Nike’s latest business venture is in the “hospitality” industry. Check out the new Niketours.com website, if you have an intention of returning to Nigeria anytime soon.

For all it’s excesses and failings, Nigeria remains full of extraordinary energy and fascination. I hope to return again, sooner rather than later.

The Shrine at Oshun

Victoria Scott, an artist/art historian, lived in Nigeria from 1969–1979. She has published several articles on Nigerian art and started Black Art Studio in Santa Fe in 1989, to promote Oshogbo art, and to facilitate workshops, performances and other events involving Oshogbo artists.
Victoria is organizing a trip to Nigeria for the first two weeks in August. Participants will visit Lagos, Oshogbo, Ogidi in Kogi State, and Abuja focussing ontextiles and art. Anyone interested may contact her at, (505)9869143 or vikki@blackartstudio.com”
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Civic Awards Handed Out By Chamber Of Commerce
Tuesday, December 16, 2003

Peter Anderson (25) 66–68 was selected as 2004 Man of the Year. Anderson is a geologist who owns Pacific Geotechnical Engineering and is a long-time Rotarian and Chamber member, part of the Morgan Hill Historical Society and the American Association of University Women. He is known as an involved, modest and committed man who works hard for his causes.

Kris Friebel, who works for Anderson, said he was overwhelmed when Sunday Minnich, executive director of the Chamber, showed up at the office Monday with flowers and the news.
“He was so overwhelmed he didn’t even call his wife (Elena, an administrator with the Hollister School District) for a while,” Friebel said.

Anderson joked that, when he saw Minnich and her bouquet of flowers, he wondered what she would be asking him to do and why she just didn’t phone. But his actual reaction was different. “I was absolutely shocked into silence,” Anderson said. He also said he was thrilled and honored.
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Last Lorry From Mbordo (Misadventures in Nation Building),
a novel by John C. Kennedy. (Trafford Publishing, 2003)
and
Surviving in Biafra by Alfred Obiora Uzokwe.
(Writers Advantage 2003)

John Kennedy’s novel, set in mythical West African “Sakra”, centers on the lives of four volunteers (three PCVs, one VSO); the novel’s deft elaboration of the daily life of its characters will for returned volunteers spark the recollection of events now thirty plus years past. Although Kennedy claims that Sakra and the characters, situations, incidents and institutions are fictional, they clearly draw on his experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ghana in the sixties. And while Sakra could be Ghana, the war that envelops the volunteers during the second half of the novel bears more than a passing resemblance to the Biafran conflict.

The perils of Iraq nation building now focuses our collective mind, and religious and cultural conflict still brews in Nigeria. Both Nigeria’s and Iraq’s situations arise at least in part out of the colonial decision to throw together disparate, antagonistic tribal groups, without, when the colonies became independent countries, effective pre-independence smoothing of tribal jealousies. Last Lorry from Mbordo is a useful and engaging reflection on the attempts by Britain and the United States at nation building in the Sixties, and a thoughtful consideration of the causes and consequences of the Biafran War. It is also an engaging read.

Last Lorry from Mbordo centers on Mbordo University-College where three male volunteers who are closing out their terms of service befriend a recently arrived volunteer, Alice Manati. Through Alice’s conversations and adventures Kennedy develops his themes, including the difficulty (even more, utility) of transferring American know-how to West Africa, and the pains and pleasures of cross cultural encounters. Alice is a 62 year old maths teacher from Washington, D.C., so her character is a useful vehicle for incorporating Kennedy’s matured reflections with his youthful Peace Corps experience. The male volunteers, Jason, Jeff and Derrick, each have love interests (respectively, a volunteer in distant Pandu; a Nigerian teacher at Mbordo—the daughter of a paramount chief in Kwim; and the dallying wife of a USAID agronomist) and their stories add spice and expand the novel’s scope beyond the confines of the college scene.

In a nation building effort Sakra has had Mbordo University-College enrolled students from both the north and south. Kennedy effectively uses the hothouse thereby created to explore this attempt at creating a national identity in students. Unfortunately, despite good intentions, the attempt fails as the students divide on tribal lines as war approaches.

The volunteers are caught by surprise when Sakra’s President, the “beloved Savior” of Sakra, is deposed and killed to the apparent delight of everyone in Sakra. However, thereafter, the insecurity caused by a succession of military coups and the massacres of southerners living in the north leads to migrations of all tribal groups to their home corners, and war. Last Lorry to Mbordo culminates with an exciting attempt by the expatriates, with help from their Sakraian friends, to extricate themselves safely from the carnage.

John Kennedy uses the novel form effectively as a technique to elaborate the joys and absurdities of the volunteer experience, and to provide a ground level context to his reflections on the nation building process. I found myself caught up in the stories which support the working out of Kennedy’s conclusions. Last Lorry from Mbordo is an interesting work, well worth the time of returned volunteers.

Alfred Obiora Uzokwe, author of Surviving in Biafra

Another recently released book, Surviving in Biafra (Writers Advantage 2003) by Alfred Obiora Uzokwe, covers similar ground through the eyes of a child. In 1966, whenObiora was a ten year old, his Igbo family felt impelled to leave Lagos and return to Nnewe in the Eastern Region. They made this decision because of harassment in Lagos and the deaths of Igbos in the north. Uzokwe’s recollections of life in Biafra and on the war’s effects on his parents, brothers and sisters are given from a child’s view, are detailed and fascinating, and are candid about the ambiguities of the war seen from within Biafra.
Both of these books can be obtained through Amazon.com.
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By Sam Omenyi