Rhapsody in Blue

I always always hear "Rhapsody in Blue" in my head when I fly above the clouds and see the breathtaking natural hues that appear to be untouched by humans (except for the planes spreading exhaust fumes and whatever other pollution).

All of my previous 2011 blog titles have had a musical theme because I either have a song already playing in my head or something about the words/pictures brings a song to me. I'm not sure if I'll keep that pattern going, but we'll see what happens.

Trivia: Name all the song titles and artists from my previous posts without googling or searching online first.

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

I left home around midday for the airport after zipping up my last bag that morning. I took my first malaria pill the night before I left, because I thought it would be easier to remember to take them after work each morning once I arrived in Mumbai. I waited at the airport for a couple of hours eating and reading before boarding the plane. I didn't realize until I was sitting comfortably on the plane in my window seat looking back at the wing that I'd forgotten my adaptors to plug my electronics. I guess that's what happens when you procrastinate. I watched "The King's Speech" on the flight to Newark and was very pleased. As the plane started to descend, I looked across the river to my favorite city basking in the beautiful sunset. I saw the tip of the Empire State Building and knew immediately that it would be green as soon as the sun went down for St. Patrick's Day. I went to a shop at Newark airport once we landed to find adaptors, and I saw a pack that seemed to cover the entire earth and was pretty expensive at $45. I decided to just wait until Mumbai to buy them.

The nearly 16-hour flight to Mumbai was pretty smooth. I watched "Black Swan", which probably raised a few eyebrows around me, as well as a few episodes of "The Tudors". I slept for about 5 hours in the relatively comfortable, self-contained, flat bed seats. They are made in a way that the person in front or behind you never intrudes on your space. I wish I could fly in those seats all the time. Once we landed and went through customs, it seemed to take an hour for my bags to come out. I walked out of the airport that night and saw a dramatic difference from my last trip. There were still lots of people waiting outside, but they were now on a sidewalk instead of a dirt road. I saw the hotel driver almost immediately. The ride to the hotel brought back many memories of rickshaws, loud noise, good and bad smells, and traffic.

I was very pleased with the hotel and my room. After showering, I ordered room service and began unpacking. I stayed up for several hours and finally went to sleep around 2am IST. I was awakened around 7am by a phone call. I got out of bed, ate breakfast, walked around the hotel, and went back to my room. I decided to take a short nap, but I ended up sleeping until about 6pm when another call awakened me. I met my co-workers for dinner at a restaurant in the hotel. I was so hungry, because I'd slept all day and hadn't eaten lunch. We made plans to go out the next day to tour the city and forego the Holi festivities at the hotel.

Kids playing Holi

I'm so excited...

I'm counting down to India.

Follow what you are genuinely passionate about and let that guide you to your destination. Diane Sawyer
Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope. Maya Angelou

I'm ready...

I received a call last week about my visa. It turns out that I went through the application process again unnecessarily. My last business visa was valid for 10 years, but I didn't realize it. They sent my passport back to me, but kept the application fee.

I also went to the travel clinic to get my shots. Apparently, I didn't get the 3rd dose of Twinrix (HepA/HepB), which was due 6 months after the first dose in 2008. I didn't have to get anything else, because I'm still covered for Typhoid, Polio, and all the required US adult immunizations. I declined to get the vaccines for rabies and Japanese encephalitis. I picked up my prescription for the malaria pills too. I'm supposed to start taking them 2 days before I leave, then everyday while I'm there, and 7 days after I return. The vaccine nurse gave me a long lecture on disease prevention, wearing protective clothing, eating properly, avoiding animals, drinking clean water, etc. I told him I'd traveled to India previously, as well as Nigeria, so I was familiar with the precautions and the CDC website. He still went through all of those details while I sat there looking at the clock wondering how late I would be for work.

My flight, hotel, and local travel reservations have been made. I'll be staying in a hotel near the airport with some other co-workers. I traveled alone the last time, so I had the freedom to move about without checking in with others or going with the crowd. This experience will be different, but I'm thinking it won't be too bad. One of them is pretty cool and we have similar interests. The others are older, but seem to be open to trying new things. We've already started looking at weekend excursions too.

Things are falling into place, and I'm excited about being in India again.

Step by Step...

About a year ago, I was cajoled into running a 5k with a group of friends. Other than childhood, I have never been interested in pursuing any kind of activities that cause physical exertion. It was my first running experience, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I told myself that I would start running regularly after accomplishing that feat, and I did run off and on throughout 2010. I turned 30 a few weeks ago and ran EP 5k a couple of days later to mark the milestone. It was part of the Houston marathon/half-marathon events. I didn't really prepare for the race because I hate running outside in the cold, but I still beat my time from my first 5k the year before. I was so elated when I crossed the finish line, because it was my first big achievement as a 30-year old. I was in so much pain after the race due to me being out of shape, but I was also proud. It was a very emotional experience for me to know how far I had come and to see my future (the marathoners). No one is more surprised than I am when I say that I want to run a marathon now. Why do I want to do it? Because I know I can. The most important lesson I have (re)learned as a runner is that my body is subject to my mind. If I think I can run 3 miles without stopping, then my body runs 3 miles without stopping. If I don't think I can run 2 miles, then I don't run 2 miles. My body will do whatever my mind tells it it will do.

How does running relate to traveling internationally? It's all about your mindset. Don't go into a race or a trip thinking about how much you're going to hate the experience. Be open and embrace each step of the journey knowing that each step forward gets you closer to your destination. It doesn't matter how fast you go, and it doesn't matter what other people are doing around you either. Go at your own pace and enjoy the scenery. You will look back at the journey and have a greater appreciation for the destination.

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step." - Lao-tzu

I'm going, going, back, back...

I learned this week that I'm going back to Mumbai after almost exactly 3 years since my last visit. I'm going through the visa process and will probably need new vaccinations for this trip, but I'm not sure yet.

Look out for more details on my voyage to India.

They don't show this on TV...

The Sunday before I left for Africa was Easter. I had dinner with my Nigerian friend and her family after church. I would meet her sister later in the week, and we were all going to stay at their father’s house in Lagos. Everyone asked me if I was ready for Nigeria and told me to expect it to be like nothing I’d ever seen before. I told them I was ready for the experience. Then, I asked an admittedly very ignorant question – “I’ll be able to take showers inside, won’t I?” They all laughed at me and told me to just wait and see.

After my friends picked me up from the airport in Lagos, we went to their father’s house. First, we drove through the city, then across the bridge to the island. The area around the house had beautiful tree-lined streets that were kept relatively clean by mostly female street sweepers in orange jumpsuits. The home was in a gated community where hawkers waited outside the gates selling phone cards, gum, candy, etc. to residents and guests as they entered and exited. The house was behind another private gate with a guard who stayed in the guardhouse. The gate and guard seemed to be common for every house we visited throughout my stay. The house was big enough to comfortably accommodate all the guests (nearly 10 of us) without any fights over the bathrooms.


a house in Lagos



My room was located downstairs with a small attached bathroom. The first thing I wanted to do when I arrived at the house from the airport was wash all the travel dust off. Before stepping into the bathroom, I was warned not to drink the water from the tap and to brush my teeth only with filtered water. I filled an empty water bottle with water from the filter in the kitchen and poured it into a glass each day for brushing my teeth. The tap water reminded me of visiting my grandparents’ house in the country in northern Louisiana where they used well water. The water from the well left a red tint in the sink drains and had a distinct almost rust-like smell similar to Lagos’ water, but it was potable (at least that’s what they told us), unlike the Lagos water. I showered at least twice a day, because I always felt really dirty after being outside in the hot, humid weather (think Houston + Tallahassee in August, times 5), and I wanted to wash the dust out of my hair. There were a couple of days where the generator stopped working properly so my room was steamy when I stepped out of the shower. On those days, I sweated while brushing my teeth or picking out clothes for the day, and I ended up back in the shower a few minutes later to try to cool down again. We went to the mall to avoid the heat until the generator could be fixed.

Each morning I awoke to the sound of humming, and I went to sleep to that same sound. I’d heard that familiar sound in Houston back in the fall of 2008. It was the loud hum of the generator at the house next door. Apparently, the generator was located on the side of the house closest to my window. It seemed that all of the houses had a minimum of 2 generators also known as “Big Gen” and “Little Gen”. They were like extended members of the family, because their names were used so much on a daily basis - “Little Gen is not working, so we’re using Big Gen during the day.” “Big Gen needs to be serviced.” “Turn off the air conditioners because Little Gen is on now.” The reason that generators are so popular, in fact, necessary, is because “NEPA takes lights.” NEPA is the power company, but they don’t maintain a regular current to the homes and businesses. The people always have to be prepared for NEPA ("Never Enough Power Always") to stop working and for the generators to kick in and allow them to continue their daily lives. Running generators all day everyday is pretty expensive because of the cost of fuel and maintenance. (Side Note - If you can't fathom how a generator works and why they are constantly being repaired, imagine the wear and tear of running your car all the time in 90 degree plus weather.) The small generator was used to power the lights, fans, and small appliances during the day, while the big generator was used at night to power the energy guzzling A/C units in every room. The attendant in the guardhouse was also responsible for turning on the generators as soon as NEPA stopped working. In the middle of the night, he would hear an alarm alerting him that NEPA’s current was fading, and then he knew to turn on “Big Gen”.

The gate guard was not the only worker in the house. The house employed drivers that seemed to be on call as needed. There was also the cook/house help. In homes with children, the house help might also be the nanny. The cook/house help in our home made many great meals and tried to fill us up each day before we headed out to face the world. Much of the meals consisted of meat and carbohydrates like yam (boiled or pounded), semovita (semo), garry (looked like grits), rice, and pasta. He also made moin moin (spicy bean paste) that I actually liked even though I have never liked beans. One day we actually had moin moin twice because it was served at someone else’s home for lunch and at our home for dinner. Maybe I’m biased, but I think the best moin moin I tasted was when I tried it for the first time on Easter. Fresh vegetables and fruit were pretty rare and relatively expensive, which is also a common phenomenon in low-income neighborhoods in the US. We had cabbage salad with dinner a couple of nights though.


chicken with pasta






(top left to right) meat, fried rice, moin moin, jollof rice



It is not uncommon for families with modest incomes to have generators, house help, and other "luxuries" in Nigeria. However, there is also a large population that does not live like that. I did not observe the stark poverty that I saw in India while in Nigeria. Lagos was like a mix of India and Louisana (and not the mirage of Louisiana we see during Mardi Gras) as far as the the way things appeared to me on the streets. I saw poor people, yes, but I did not see people sleeping on the sidewalks at night and squatting on the side of the street to relieve themselves. I also didn't see many beggars. Maybe they were there, and I just wasn't exposed to them. My friends told me that there used to be a lot of beggars on the streets, but now they all seem to be selling something instead. They sold magazines, CDs, DVDs, jewelry, candy, gum, phone cards, drinks, chips, books, maps, etc. and we bought it all during stagnant traffic. You literally could avoid the supermarket by shopping from your car.


selling CDs on the street



We also exchanged money on the streets. The money exchange experience was hilarious to me. Before we left the house one day, I told my friends I needed to exchange USD for naira. They said we would do it on our way shopping because they needed to exchange their BP, and I assumed we were going to stop at a bank. The car started to slow down on the side of the road where there were no buildings just men lounging around, and I asked why we were stopping. Two or three men walked over to the car and asked what we needed. My friends asked the rate for dollars and pounds, told them it was too low and started to ease off the brakes like we were driving away. The guys went up a little on their exchange rate and we handed over our money for naira. As we drove away, I was astounded at what had just transpired. I was still mesmerized by the experience even when we did it a couple more times during my stay.


currency exchange



One of the things I found most interesting while in Lagos was the emphasis on religion. On the initial ride from the airport, we passed many overcrowded poverty-stricken areas with small lean-tos and tin roofs. Every other tin-roofed stall had a handpainted sign or banner indicating it was a church. There was also a great number of large "mushroom" (Pentecostal) churches, Catholic churches, and some Islamic mosques. We visited the compound of a Charismatic Catholic minister's home one day and I kept asking my friends if it was a church. They had images of "Jesus", crosses, virgins, disciples, stations of the cross, popes, etc. everywhere you turned - on the compound wall, inside every room, on the cars, everywhere. I was expecting to see a Jesus soap pump when I went to the bathroom. I am a Christian, but that was beyond weird to me.


the wall around the compound


Another thing that I noticed was how dramatically different it was to attend Catholic mass. The only experience I had with Catholicism before Lagos was attending mass with my cousin in Houston twice, which was different from what I was used to, but it wasn't bad. The Houston church had an African priest (Ironic, don't you think?) with a good choir that sang lively music and people stood up and clapped during the songs. The Lagos church was quiet most of the time and I still did not understand all the rituals. The heat inside was stifling with fans whirring above our heads but no central air; the windows and doors remained open and we felt a breeze every now and then. The choir sang softly in a loft above the congregation at the rear. While they sang, the congregation looked forward and kept still. I was grateful when we stood up or kneeled to pray because I could feel my sweat-soaked skin sticking to the wooden pew as I sat. The most fascinating thing to me about this church was the image on the tiled-wall above the baptism. I wish I could have taken a picture, but we left before the service ended. It was a scene showing men, women, and children with bronze (brown) skin and woolly hair in colorful traditional clothing looking skyward as a white man with long, stringy blonde hair and blue eyes ascended into Heaven. This church in Africa was probably the most "non-African" church I have ever attended. To top it off, I attended a church in Dallas the Sunday after I arrived back in the US, and it looked, sounded, and felt more African than what I experienced in Africa. I was dumbfounded.

church in Dallas

Oh, the Places You’ll Go

What can you do in 40 hours? The first thing that comes to mind is probably the 40 hours or more most people spend at work each work. However, I spent 40 hours – nearly 2 full days – in transit to and from Lagos, Nigeria. My journey started in Houston, TX and took me to London, England, then Cairo, Egypt before finally landing in Lagos, Nigeria. The return trip followed the same route, except I bypassed London for a stop in New York before touching down in Houston again.

One of the questions I’ve heard many times since returning home is, “Does being in Africa make you appreciate home more?” or some variation. That question slightly irritates me because it says something about the inquirer’s perspective of the world outside the US borders. It implies that living in the US is better than living somewhere else, when really it’s just different. Not better or worse.

"A child who has never left home says, my mother is the best cook." - Ugandan proverb

I love and appreciate where I am from and the people who nurture and support me at home, but I also realize that there is so much more in the world to learn and appreciate too. My voyage to Africa showed me that family is more than just blood ties. It is about people coming together to celebrate life and love while also supporting each other when it seems love is lost and life is gone.

My hope is that people who read about my travel experiences will be reminded that there is a whole world outside of your house just waiting to be explored and revered, not dominated, conquered, colonized, crusaded, or made to look like you. That outside world could be 5 miles or 5,000 miles from where you live, but it is just waiting on you to venture out and see it just as it is, in all its beauty. I believe that by visiting new places and opening our eyes to the people around us, we become more human. We stop seeing “aliens” and “those people”, and we start seeing “them” as our brothers and sisters – part of our extended family. "They" becomes "we" and "us", and "you" becomes "me". When they hurt, we all hurt. We are not islands. We are like leaves on branches that aggregate to form trees, and we – the entire human race – are a great forest. If the leaves on the American trees are diseased, then it impacts the Brazilian trees and the Cambodian trees, etc.

Those who know me personally know that I am a bibliophile. I read a wide range of books from fiction to nonfiction, but people are usually shocked when I tell them my favorite is a book by Dr. Seuss – “Oh, the Places You’ll Go”. I believe it is a book for children as well as adults because its message is universal. That message is: The world has a lot to explore and learn and you can do anything if you take the limits off of yourself. There will be challenges, but you can face them and overcome. I try to introduce people, especially children, to traveling in their minds first by reading, and hopefully, that will lead to them traveling physically.

My wish is that other people will read about my experiences and be inspired to take a road trip, get a passport, eat new foods, learn a new language, and see the world. Go places!


My friend, Patricka, travels extensively around the world. Vote for her to have her own travel show on the Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN). Vote here.

Out of Africa...

April 18, 2010

Sunday morning, I made sure that everything was packed and ready to go. I carefully wrapped and folded all my souvenirs the night before and had just enough room to take all my treasures home. I showered, dressed, and cleaned my room before walking out to breakfast. I took a few final pictures with The Supremes. The airport and the church were both located in Ikeja, but we took separate cars. Renny and the girls were taken to church in one car, while the other driver took Onome and I to the airport. Onome would meet with them after making sure I was settled at the airport. I took my final pictures of Lagos as we zoomed along the highway with relatively little traffic. I thought I might be able to buy a couple of CDs from hawkers along the way, but there was not enough traffic for them to safely sell on the road - meaning the traffic was not stopped where they could dash in between cars without being struck.

crossing the bay in Lagos

We arrived at the airport and went to the EgyptAir counter to check in. There was a table where the Nigerian guards opened my bags to check for weapons I guess. They spoke in Yoruba to Onome. Apparently, this table wasn't setup for safety. They wanted a "settlement". I gave them 1000naira and gave them a dirty look. I was pissed that this was my last impression of Nigeria. I do not reward bad behavior, whether it is from a child, a store clerk, a waiter, whatever. The whole time I was in Nigeria I hated when we were stopped at checkpoints and artificial barriers erected by police or "area boys" to collect settlements or "shake body". Now, I was an unwilling participant in the corruption, and it went against my principles. The EgyptAir worker who checked my passport before ticketing asked if I was okay and Onome said that I was just tired. I suppose I need to hide my facial expressions better. Or, maybe the culture of corruption should be ended. Just a thought.

Anyway, after my bags were checked and I had my ticket in hand, I hugged Onome goodbye and he was off to the church. I went to the giftshop and bought a CD (Asa - see below) that would have cost 150 naira on the street, but was 600 in the store. I proceeded to the gate after being stopped 5 more times to check my passport between the initial screening and the gate. I boarded the plane and sat in the aisle seat. I prefer to sit by the window, but I was unable to select my seat for the EgyptAir flights. I watched over my neighbors' shoulders as the last glimpse of Lagos faded away into lush green vegetation and the blue/gray Atlantic coast of Africa.

Lagos Airport

Before the plane landed in Cairo, I decided I would stay in a hotel for the night. I would not be sleeping in the airport anymore if I could help it. My flight landed around 8pm and my flight to JFK would depart at 9:15 the next morning. I bought another entrance visa and went through customs. I didn't have to claim my baggage because it had been checked through to New York. My carry-on bag held toiletries and a change of clothes, so I was set. Since I had not made a hotel reservation prior to landing, I knew my best bet was to find a Marriott hotel. I am a Rewards member and I also knew that I could expect a clean comfortable bed for the night. (This is why branding is important.) A travel agent tried to sell me on a reservation for another property, but I didn't want to take a chance. I went to another travel desk and asked for a taxi to the Marriott. It was located downtown approximately 30 miles away, but it could take up to an hour to get there in Cairo traffic. I didn't mind though. We crossed the bridge over the Nile and the driver slowed down.

I did not expect the hotel to be on the banks of the river, but it was. It was beautiful to behold the architecture of this old building in the golden glow of the light at night. I walked into the ornately decorated lobby with tiled floors and gold trim and told the clerk I wanted a room for the night. He told me the room rate for the night was around $200, which seemed a little low to me considering the location and amenities, as well as it doubling as a casino. I told him I wanted to use my Marriott Rewards, and he told me that they usually required a reservation be made at least 48 hours prior to redemption, but I could go to the business center to try to book it online. I made the reservation online, walked back to the desk with my confirmation number, and the clerk told me I would receive a room upgrade due to my status. I walked into the room, and finally, I exhaled. (That line came straight from a movie.) The hotel tried to cater to every palate with restaurants ranging from Italian, sushi, coffee/bakery, steak, etc., but I settled on "Eyptian Palace", the only restaurant that seemed to serve actual Egyptian fare. It was a huge open air restaurant located in the courtyard. The host asked if I wanted smoking or non-smoking. It seemed as though the whole place was smoking, and one small corner of 10 tables was for non-smoking patrons. That small area was closest to the stage where a man, a woman, and a DJ sang Arabic love songs. I enjoyed my dinner of assorted breads, hummus, chicken tikka, and a traditional drink made of flowers (I dont remember the name) that tasted like cranberry juice but sweeter.

When I returned to the room, I called my mother to let her know I was in Cairo and that I was not impacted by the delays caused by the volcanic ash covering Europe. She started telling me about everything that was happening at home like it was a casual phone call. I politely interrupted and said the call was too expensive for all that and we would talk when I arrived in NY and could use my cell phone again. After the call, I bathed, took a few pictures from the balcony, and called it a night. I didn't sleep well that night though due to "Naija-rhea".

courtyard and restaurant at hotel



on the hotel balcony overlooking River Nile

I requested a wake-up call at 6am, but I was awakened by the sun almost an hour earlier than I planned, because I slept with the curtains open. I dressed, packed my things, and ate a quick breakfast in the Executive Lounge upstairs, before heading downstairs for my taxi to the airport. There was relatively little traffic that morning, and the sun bathed the city in thick, warm light. I could understand why the Greeks named the city Heliopolis - City of the Sun. I boarded the plane after going through a long check-in line and said goodbye to Africa. I started reading "Purple Hibiscus", a book I bought in Lagos by a Nigerian author, before the doors closed and continued reading until I finished a couple of hours later. It was a beautifully written story about a girl finding her voice. It reminded me of The Color Purple in many ways (not just the name). "This is It" played in the background as I listened on the headphones while reading. I only looked up at the screen when I heard my favorite MJ song. (Trivia: What is my favorite Michael Jackson song? Hint: It features a choir.) I slept some, ate a little of the imitation, overcooked food to stave my hunger, and slept some more.

I finally caught up on my writing from the previous days and wrote the words below during the actual moments they were happening.
The sun has shone since we left Egypt (we are flying backwards in time). I can see the light peaking under my neighbors' shades. We are 20 minutes away from landing at JFK. I have to take a taxi to LGA to finally go to Houston. Flying using airline points is not for the faint of heart. It has been extremely long and tiring, but I'm glad I had the opportunity to stop over in Cairo en route to and from Lagos. I'm also glad that my return trip did not take me through ash-covered Europe.

Now, I just want to sleep in my own bed for a few days, but I have to be at work on Wednesday. I'm going to force myself to stay awake until I arrive home at 9:30pm. God give me strength.






This video actually shows 2 songs by Asa (Ah-shah). Fire on the Mountain is my favorite song on the CD. Tell me what you think.

Monsoon Wedding

April 17, 2010

I woke up bright and early Saturday morning to accompany Auntie Bose to the market to purchase material and ready-made outfits to take home with me. She told me not to talk, just to point at what I wanted and she would negotiate the price. There were hawkers on the street selling foodstuff and toys while small shops held their doors open to display the goods inside. We did not stop at those shops because she said they were more expensive. Instead, we continued to walk until we came to a cramped alleyway barely large enough for 2 people to walk abreast comfortably. The small stalls only accommodated the seller and the patrons had to stand outside and point to what they wanted. The heat and stench were stifling even in the early morning hours. We stopped at a few stalls that sold beautifully dyed materials and clothing. She said that they still knew that I was a stranger and wouldn't go as low as she wanted. We didn't have time to keep trying to find lower prices, so we settled. We hurriedly bought what I wanted and started back to the house to get ready for the wedding.

The lady from the salon came to the house to tie the gele' this time. After dressing, the driver took Renny, the girls, and I to the church. Onome was already there because he was standing in the place of the father of the bride. There was another wedding also held at the church, and the attendants were just sitting down outside for the reception. When we walked to the entrance for our wedding, Mimi, Onome's oldest sister, was standing outside visibly upset. We learned that the heavy rain from the night before had pooled on the reception tent and caused it to collapse. They didn't know if it could be recovered before the reception.

After the Catholic mass, everyone walked to the front with an offering for the couple and was sprinkled with "holy water" before greeting the new bride and groom. Everyone was beautifully arrayed in their orange and brown geles and other regalia. We danced out of the church and stood on the church steps snapping pictures. We proceeded to the reception where everything with the tents had been rectified before the guests arrived. Upon arrival, two men in suits tried to prevent guests from entering even though there was no guest list for them to know who should be there. It was so chaotic. Renny pleaded that the grandchildren should be allowed inside and they reluctantly let us pass.

The tent was beautifully decorated with brown and orange draped across the posts and gold accents on the tables. There were subtle hints of the tent collapse, like grains of sand on the table cloth, but all else was just right. The wedding cake was a towering 4 layers of orange on a table up front. The friends of the parents danced in with them followed by the bride and groom escorted by their friends. They danced alone at the front and then the emcee told their friends to join them. After a song or two, he told the friends to sit down so the parents could dance. He said, "The friends will dance all night without spraying, but the parents and older people will spray the couple."

After the reception, we hung around while everyone else from the house went home. Someone finally told the bride and her mother what happened to the tent and showed them the video. Mrs. K. was speechless.

Traditionally, the bride goes back to her home for a final goodbye to her family before being welcomed to the groom's family. The reception was in Ikeja near the groom's (family) home, and it would take nearly an hour to go the bride's (family) home in Fair Stock. The MOB, aunts, sisters, and cousins gathered in a small circle under the tent and sang songs in Yoruba and English, then prayed for Anne in her new life. She had changed from her wedding dress to a pink gown and knelt before her elders as they prayed. Onome prayed as the male head of the family. Osaze's family sent a car to pick up Anne and we followed behind them to the house. Her mother did not follow and the father also would have gone home, but Onome chose to just be the big brother for this part of the ceremony. Her new family welcomed her to the family with songs. They offered drinks to the guests. We prayed and went on our way after about 30 minutes.

The day was full of joy and excitement, and I'm glad I was able to be part of it all. I started packing for my long journey home the following day. There was a prayer of thanksgiving to be held at the church on Sunday for the final act of the wedding, but I would not attend due to my flight.