As I was being given the information for the article “What Does It Mean,” I was taken back to the year 1983. That year for me was incredibly significant, for it was in 1983 that my teenage vision of living and working overseas came true and my life as a wanderer came to be.
Before 1983 I was like other North Americans, I had a college degree, a good job, a secure and comfortable middle class life, and I took many things for granted. Unlike many North Americans, it was not enough for me. So, in the summer of 1983 I found myself in Nigeria as a volunteer. I guess like many others, I had an idealistic view of who I was and what my role would be in this poor country. I must say that those idealist notions did not last long. For when the initial romance and honeymoon period of exploring a new country was replaced with the reality of where I was, how long I would be there, and the conditions in which I would have to live finally hit, it was crash time.
I had been in the country about three months before I arrived at my new home. It just so happened that I was to be alone in my post, which was not standard policy for the organisation I was with, but that is what happened. It was when the Headmistress of the school took me to my house that the reality of everything hit me. I entered this three bedroom bungalow, with its army green dirty walls, dilapidated furniture, missing floor tiles, no water, sometimes electricity, dust, spider webs, and termites and then realised that this was would be my home for the next two years. When the Headmistress left, I sat in the middle of the dust covered living room floor and cried. The thought going through my mind was, “What have I done?” As the crying subsided, a voice spoke to me saying, “This is what you wanted. You have two choices, you can either go back home to your comfortable life or you can stay here and make the most it.” As I sat there I realised that yes, this is what I wanted to do. I got up from the floor looked around and thought, cloth for curtains.
This was the beginning of one the greatest times in my life. In that situation I learned how deal with running water for only one hour a day, electricity some of the time, creating menus around the limited supply of food in the local market, living on pennies a day (for I only received the equivalent of a Nigerian teacher’s salary), fitting into a completely different culture, teaching with extremely limited resources, and being totally alone to face it all. It was a time when my creativity and resourcefulness blossomed. It was also a time when I was happiest and felt the freest.
It was also a time when I learned the value of community and sharing. The village I lived in accepted me as part of them. This was especially evident when at one point the teachers in the state were not paid for three months that included me. As I waited to be paid and counted the dwindling supply of coins the community came to help. After the first month of no pay, I would find a tomato, a small amount of beans or rice, an egg, an onion or other small offerings of food on my door step each morning. One day, I asked the local chief why the people where doing this. For me, a western from an affluent country, this was a bit embarrassing. He told me that the people of the village knew I was alone and without family. The other Nigerian teachers had family to take care of them but I did not, so they were helping me as I was helping them in the school. I cannot tell you how I felt, the intense gratitude to these people who has so little. This great sense of community and sharing! This for me was the greatest gift that I have ever received, but also not the last gift I was to receive from these people who have so little. It is, but one of the many experiences I had during my two years in Nigeria.
When I left Nigeria and in later years when I had more lucrative jobs, I would often think of this time. The message always was that I was happiest when I had the least. This was brought back to me when in 1990, I was left with out a job, money and possessions due to the Invasion of Kuwait, but that is another story. When in 2001 I found myself back in Africa, this time in Ethiopia, the period of time I spent in Nigeria kept coming back. My situation in Ethiopia was totally different. I had a three bedroom house but this time with all the comforts of North America. And although, I loved Ethiopia and had a great job, something was wrong. What was missing was the simplicity of life. The adage of less is more kept coming back. In 2004 I left Ethiopia with only a back pack and now I am back to simplicity and much, much less. I am back to that state of happiness and peace where the material is no longer important. I have what I need at this moment and if for some reason should it all be taken for me, well so be it. It is only a few things nothing more. I know I can survive with little and I know I would be perfect content with that.
With this story of one my experiences, I hope you can see that less is more. We really can live with little and when the things we have accumulated do not clutter up our lives, we are able to focus on what is really important – our connection to the ONENESS in ALL THINGS! It is when we are without the distraction of protecting and holding on to the material that we see how beautiful simplicity really is.
Love and blessings,
Wawa Quilla
