Main fundraiser photo

"Mending After Malaria"

Donation protected
When Ike got back from the hospital, he was locked out of his apartment.

This is my friend Ike. When we met all I knew about him was that he was a fashion model with a Business degree. Our online friendship has opened my heart. 

Getting to know Ike has been getting to know Nigeria. He was the first African friend I’ve made who actually lives in Africa. At first I teased him by calling him my Nigerian Prince, but he hates his country’s crappy reputation in the world. My friends all say "be careful," and I am. Nine out of ten Americans (trust me, I’ve asked ten people) know nothing about Nigerians except the familiar Nigerian Prince scam.  What they don’t know is that about one out of ten Nigerian men are actually named Prince!

What they also don’t know is that Nigerians are also highly educated, religious, and totally fashion-forward. Nigeria has one of the highest economic growth rates in the world, at 7.4%, but it also has a 50% poverty rate and an unemployment rate of 23%. There’s a growing gap between rich and poor, not unlike America. There’s corruption in politics, I hear from him and other friends there, that trickles down to regular people. Infrastructure is a problem, and there are huge gaps in health care. I can see that some probably scam to survive, but I can also see how it perpetuates a cycle of corruption.

It took a lot for me to break past the stereotypes, but that’s what intercultural friendships are about. 

So Ike, he’s tall. He likes to travel, and when he smiles he really spreads sweetness. He likes to play basketball and roots for the Cavaliers, thanks to an auntie in Ohio he visited when he was a kid. His favorite dinner is noodles with chicken. He's got talent, but he wants to run a business. Ike isn’t short for Isaac, it’s short for Ikechukwu. I’d never heard that name before I met him. It means "God's power" in Igbo. Or Yoruba. I haven't learned either language yet.

Ike is always sending me sincere blessings and love. We have long conversations about our different worlds. I’m super curious and whenever he tells me something about Nigeria, I go on long Internet searches to understand more. Through our friendship I discovered a whole country about which I had previously known one thing for sure: that they have some great writers.  He's not really one of them, hardly using full sentences much less full words. I learned from him that  “wyd,” “yh” and “smh” mean "what are you doing?" "yes," and "shaking my head." My favorite is, "lool." It really sounds like laughing.

I didn’t hear from Ike for a few months. He would be grumpy and negative. I thought our friendship had run its course and let things go. Then one day he asked me for money. “Well there you go,” I thought. “My nine friends were right.” He didn’t want to say why but I peppered him with questions, as is my way with new friends. Turns out his life had taken an alarming turn: he had been sick with malaria, and he'd lost his job. "I'm slim af,” he wrote. Lool.

Malaria is a huge problem in Nigeria. In my research I learned that, like so many things, the country  could save billions in cure by spending millions in prevention but, to quote Ike, “there’s no money.” Meanwhile livelihoods crash. As the oldest son of a single mom, Ike has been working since he graduated to put his three younger siblings through school. He doesn't socialize much, except online, his focus being on his family. When he got sick he knew he was letting his family down. He paid his own rent last.

Malaria is usually treatable with some simple medications, but the strain that had Ike flat on his back for so long—or running to the bathroom—would only respond to hospital care—which cost several few month’s rent and aren't covered by national healthcare. A childhood friend came to town and took him for the injection. It saved his life.

But when he returned from his treatment, he was locked out of his apartment.

So Ike has been camping out in the stairwell for a month, selling the few posessions hil landlord left outside to feed himself. Since I don’t know anyone in the town where he lives, who might have a couch for him to crash on, I’ve been sending him links to social and religious services, that's all I can do. 

What's crazy is that he can rent an apartment for a whole year for the cost of one month's American rent. But in Lagos, you do have to pay it all up front.

2018 was a rough year for a lot of people, a lot of reasons. We were all feeling a bit raw and tossed about. Our friendship has been about sending each other kindness and inspiration. I told him I was sorry I couldn't help him more. He can't be my mail-order husband because I'm already married and twice his age. With my own kid in college, I don't have any extra money lying around. He laughed. He’s way worse off but he admits, from his stairwell, “At least you always make me smile. And given me the ways on how to forgive people.” I  told him I could try fundraising. He said, “that won’t work. People hate us because of the princes.” But I know that we are all judged—and not always fairly—by the actions of those who look like us. And we all wish we could break through that somehow.  And I know the world is full of kind people. 

Are you one of them? Will you help me help Ike and his family?

If you’ve ever been #homeless in your twenties and thought you’ve reached a dead end, or a #Nigerian who found new opportunities, can you help? Or anyone who’s got a little cash or hope or love? Or if you're a kind person in #Lagos with a couch and a kind heart, and maybe a job for a business major, can you leave a message? Maybe you know someone who has some cool clothes that need #modeling? Or a #basketball buddy? Maybe you know places where a millennial can find friendship and hope, to help my friend on his adventure into a new future. Maybe you can help get him a plane ticket to #Ohio; he wants to see the world. Maybe you could fall in love with him; his good heart makes that easy to do. Whatever you can contribute—a few dollars, a message of hope, a connection, miles—it will surely make him smile.

Organizer

Kristen Caven
Organizer
Oakland, CA

Your easy, powerful, and trusted home for help

  • Easy

    Donate quickly and easily.

  • Powerful

    Send help right to the people and causes you care about.

  • Trusted

    Your donation is protected by the  GoFundMe Giving Guarantee.