Musings of a Global Nomad

Dear ones, It’s Christmas morning, and as I sit here in our garden, under the warm Abuja sun, my thoughts are with all our loved ones far away. And as I think of the year gone by and summon up memories to share, I am smiling because all in all, it has been a good year. The first half of the year was quite eventful and stressful. Gerard was in Nigeria, while we were in Rome. We also had all the trauma that comes with high school finals (we constantly asked ourselves if it was necessary for 17 year olds to have so much stress- was the IB worth it?). Then there was the stress of university applications and interviews and finally the excitement of receiving acceptances. Arhantika got accepted into both her top choices and went with her first choice, University of South Wales in Cardiff to study Photojournalism. The months flew by and before we knew it, it was time to start packing for the move to Abuja. The last few weeks in Rome were fun. We had family and friends visit ...

My Darling A, It seems unreal. I cannot, I just cannot comprehend that by the time the sun rises tomorrow my baby, my first born, will officially be an adult. As I sit flicking through photos of the years that have flown by, I smile through the tears. Each photograph brings flashbacks, memories that pierce the soul and have me yearning to relive them. The day you were born, the first chuckles, the toddler banter. You were the friendliest and easiest baby ever. And then you grew up; you took on the role of big sister and the years and the experiences began to mold you into someone who was tough, kind and smart. Then the teenage years rolled in and you proved every notion about teenagers right. There were those days that you were moody and insolent, cheeky and daring! But we plodded through, loving you more than ever, trying our best to be ‘parent friends’, forgiving, coaxing, teaching, preaching, shouting, each side, both you and us exercising patience, tolerance and restraint u...

Despondent and afraid, she walked along The road they said led to somewhere. Cause the hope that had surged at the start of the path The songs she had hummed when the journey begun Had faded, been muted, by her thoughts on the run. Yet she walked on bravely, shoulders drooping, With the weight of the sorrow in her soul. For every step that was taking her somewhere Was really just taking her Further from home. The loneliness pressed closer, suffocating her senses. And really she just wanted to scream. But her throat was too dry, her soul much too weak. So she walked on quietly, Mumbling a prayer for those left behind. And then in the distance she could finally see The end of her path, a place to be free. As it rose on the horizon, her heart skipped  a beat For she saw the uniforms, the batons and the barbed wire fences Beckoning yet  Menacing... could she dare to fly free. And that song that had sprung from hope, from survival Bubbled again, ...

It’s that time of year again! Twinkling lights, Christmas cheer, Gratitude, Prayer, and Giving. It’s also that time of year I sit down to write our annual family update and I must be honest here; this year I dragged my feet, almost didn’t write it, but then realized (and was reminded J )that this is one Christmas tradition I absolutely cannot give up on and so… here it goes.  (Warning: it’s long so go get yourself that cup of coffee and put your feet up.) It’s been a whirlwind of a year! Lots of ups, lots of downs and quite some drama. Not surprising I guess, considering our track record, but nevertheless it has been an exhausting year. The ups-some great holidays, catch ups with friends and family, a long amazing summer in India where we enjoyed setting up our new home, lots of little moments with the kids, where something they said or did made us laugh, made us smile, made us proud; made us hold them just a little bit tighter, our hearts exploding with happiness and lov...

Yesterday I stood in St Peters Square surrounded by one hundred thousand people to witness the canonization of the Saint of the Gutters.  The atmosphere was electric, palpable, and as Pope Francis pronounced her a Saint, I had goosebumps and tears in my eyes. It was a very special moment, not just because here we were witnessing something momentous, but because, Mother Teresa has personally touched me and my family. Those ripples she talks about in the quote above, well one  of them was me. Let me tell you my story. I must been about six years old when I first met Mother Teresa and visited Sishu Bhavan in Calcutta. Though the memory is now clouded, the visit left a big imprint, so much so that I was drawn back frequently. Initially I would beg my parents to take me back there whenever we transited through Calcutta. As I grew older and we moved around, we always found a Mother Teresa home close by to visit. The habit continued even when I left home to join university. ...

Dearest ones Sending you our warmest wishes for the season. As we usher in another Christmas, we are thankful as always for your love, the warmth of your friendship and the memories we share. Life is rushing by, children growing up faster than we want and we find that we continuously get lost in the mayhem of routine. Life seems to take on a faded hue and the world around seems harsh and absurd. What with all the terrorists, idiots, misogynists, ignoranants, discriminators and misplaced ideals, we wonder if there is any place for idealists like us. As we wonder at the futility of it all, we also feel guilty; for having everything and yet feeling disconnected.  But then we meet someone, so ordinary but so inspirational, we experience something that touches our soul deeply, we see our teenager passionate about a cause, quietly trying to make a difference and we feel renewed again. And we convince ourselves that being completely human and fully alive is just this; ...

When my parents last visited us, they were awed when my preschooler excitedly showed them the power point presentations she loves working on. She does this for fun. She chooses a topic, sometimes it’s her favorite band, sometime it’s something as mundane as shoes or there was even one titled ‘things’. She googles relevant images, copies and pastes them on to the slide, does word art, graphics, the works. She may not be able to spell many words yet, but she is a power point expert. She, like all my other kids are Digital Natives, the generation of people born during or after the rise of digital technologies. (And we all, born before 1980 are called Digital immigrants by the way.) There are kids like her everywhere. You see them on the bus, the teenager with the ear plugs, listening to her iPod and texting at record breaking speed from her phone, your 7 year old niece whom you go to when you have trouble figuring out your smart phone, the intern at office who knows what to do when ...