A Hair Raising Experience 5.01.08

Stop the presses! Only a few entries ago I mentioned that I was feeling less like a moron in Nigeria. Even as I wrote that, I cringed.

A few weeks ago I decided that I wanted to come back to Jos in the late summer to work for a longer period of time. I was feeling better about being able to actually accomplish that and about life here in general. Still, in a moment of which Murphy would be proud, I decided, chuckling to myself, to wait until something bad happened before I made that decision final. Well, my best laid "plans" actually worked out this time.

Not 48 hours later, on a confidence-high like none of the previous month and a half of time here, I came back from a long evening walk and decided to have some toast for dinner, as we bachelors sometimes do. I leaned down and opened the gas oven door wide.

Then I had a 5 second delay, as I could not find matches. Then i found the matches but broke the first one in two trying to light it on the box, so I picked up the broken pieces and threw them away. Finally, getting frustrated at my own slothfulness regarding such a simple endeavor, I lit a match and slowly leaned over to hand-light the gas oven.

As I bent over, I noticed the most beautiful, deep blue wave--something akin to the aurora borealis in movement--dancing right in front of my very eyes and seemingly expanding with each split second. I realized at that point what all this actually was and managed to jerk my upper body back, close my eyes and at least begin to turn my head. As I did so, the explosion came and encompassed me. Turns out that this little gas stove has a knob for the oven that is different from the other four knobs, all of which turn off by going clockwise as far as possible. The oven knob, if turned fully clockwise, actually turns on the gas for the broiler. So since lunch some five hours earlier, my broiler had been spewing cooking gas.

I was not seriously hurt, but I felt the explosion around my head and body as it happened, and there was a fairly loud "boom." :) I could feel my hair strongly blown back. I went into the bathroom to survey the damage, so to speak, and looked up to see that I resembled something like a ziplock bag that one sometimes lets get too close to a burner. I was frayed and curled around the edges, all of which was accompanied by the lovely odor of burned hair. (Okay, let's get these out of the way for your sake and mine: hair today, gone tomorrow; people told me Africa was hot; I knew I'd get burned; Nigeria is an explosive place, ad nauseum).

The event has grown funny with time, but it was NOT funny that evening or even the next--mainly because I knew that if I had simply had the matches in hand, struck one, then opened the door as I leaned down, all this gas would not have had time to dissipate, as it did. That would have resulted in a far more intense explosion, through a much narrower gap in the oven door. And that could have obviously been very serious to my vision and maybe more. As painful and as embarassing as the whole experience was, especially as i scraped, cut and washed burned hair from all over my head, the real lesson lies elsewhere, I think:

Something about the danger of missing little details; the obvious mortality that we face; but mainly the pain and discouragement of self-inflicted wounds--the spiritual and emotional kind especially.

Thanks to all of you who have been praying for my safety, b/c I believe that is what made this whole incident minor rather than major.

I think God spends lots of time waiting for us to come to Him and waiting for us to realize that, on our own, we are a mess. I got a very clear reminder of my own ineptness that night. Pride took another blow, and I'm glad it did. So I continue to try to walk forward as best as I can, seeking not to blow myself up unnecessarily. And trying to persevere as I inevitably fail and fall short on so many fronts. For me, it was just an oven this time 'round that reminded of things I so often forget.

So i will keep plodding along, fueled by God's grace and mercy, and occasionally by cooking gas.

And right after the explosion, feeling really stupid and foolish and uncapable of everything needed here, I knew i still wanted to come back to Jos.

B/c of all this, I have been able to put off that haircut I needed for at least another couple weeks. And if vanity was still a problem, I have come to the inevitable theological conclusion that eyebrows are deeply overrated.