So I went to Africa...

I have always found it hard to express exactly what I want to about an experience like this...and this one has been particularly tough because it wasn't so much about Africa but more about me...me in Africa and being where I needed to be for three months. But I try. And I have some pictures to help and these blog posts that have helped. In case you haven't been able to keep up on it all, here are some numbers to give you an overview:

3 # of countries visited (Tanzania, Kenya and Ethiopia), 4 # of visas I had to purchase, 8 # of friends I was able to visit, 1 # of times I rode a daladala, 4 # of friends with connections to the Dominican Republic, 40 (or so) # of times I washed out Elizabeth's small pan, 3 (or 4?) # of times I almost killed Paul, Elizabeth, the unborn child and myself because I left the oven on, 3 # of months I was gone, 0 # of times I called home, 3 # of times I shot a gun, 1 # number of mountains I climbed, 5 # of Israelis I climbed with, 7 # of days it took me to walk normal after climbing the mountain, about a million # of times I heard "JAMBO" when I was with the Texans, about a million and one # of times I heard "mzungu!" (white person), 2 # of African weddings I attended, 1 # of times I was offered as a guilt offering (by my sister), 9 # of books I read, 5 # of dance clubs visited...all in one night, 1 # of times I got sick, 3 # of hours I spent in the bathroom the one time I was sick, 7 # of months Elizabeth was pregnant when she was still running farther than me, 3 # of times I drove, 0 # of pedestrians/goats/bicyclists/chickens/other cars I hit, 5 # of new types of beer I tried, at least 5 # of times Paul, Elizabeth and I managed to find ourselves in a friendly/heated debate, 1 # of I (Heart) Hope Basketball stickers I saw, 90 # of minutes we were late to a wedding, 12 # hours of layover Sarah and Jaxon had in London on way to said wedding, 3 # of exams Sarah took early to get to wedding, 0 # of reasons we had for missing the wedding, 12 $ of US dollars it takes to get a fabulous pedicure, 3 # of rugby games I watched, a good 50 # of questions I had about the game, 4 # of times I had to go to Ethiopian Air to get my ticket, 20 # of times I was told "no worries" when inquiring as to whether there would be a shuttle to the airport, 0 # of shuttles that showed up, 17 # of cans of cooking spray I packed up while helping someone move, 500 # of library books I logged into a computer, 6 # of dogs I lived with at one time (okay, 4 were merely puppies), 200 # of cows I could fetch as a bride price (don't be fooled, that's actually a large compliment), 1 # of cows I milked, about 3 # of minutes I was allowed to milk the cow before I was told I was going too slow, at least 15 # of traffic jams I found myself in in Nairobi which is more times than I actually found myself in a car in Nairobi, and finally, even more than I had hoped # of giraffes I saw.

The One Where My Sister Offers Me as a Guilt Offering at an African Wedding

So there I was, minding my own business, in line for food at the reception of the wedding that my sister and Jaxon flew over to Africa for. We actually managed to miss the ENTIRE ceremony (that is another story...but not really a story, it was just a big 'welcome to Africa things are different here' moment). So we are in line and one of Jaxon's friends is talking with my sister. He is giving her a hard time about not being invited to Sarah's wedding (in a fun, joking manner) and Sarah's reply (direct quote), "I'm sorry...but hey, to make up for it I brought you my sister. Here she is!"

Come again?

Not sure how you respond to that one. I smile and shake his hand and then proceed to spend the rest of the wedding festivities trying to avoid awkward conversation with the guy. It was mostly awkward because it was super loud and I said, "huh?" or "sorry?" about every other sentence because I couldn't understand him. At one point it took me a good five minutes to realize that he was talking about "hawkers" in the city streets (guys selling used goods) not "hookers."

Oh well. I did politely ask my sister that the next time she decides to offer me to a guy that she runs it by me first. Or, at least asks what we could get in return. I was told once that I could easy fetch 200 cows as a bride price. I thought that seemed like a nice compliment.

In my sister's defense, she had just taken her exams early, flown to the other side of the world in the span of two days and missed the wedding she had flown over for. In case you words don't quite do justice to that disappointment, here is a picture. In the background is the wedding tent where an announcement is being made about how we are going to process over to the reception:

Communicating from the bush of Africa

Sorry for the lack of blogs and communication but here is a snapshot of what is necessary to make a phone call from where I have been of late.

I once (was on) a farm in Africa

I have been spending this past week a couple hours north of Nairobi with the Hovingh family. And let me tell you, Karen Blixen doesn’t have too much on these folks. What a joy it was to be welcomed into their home and see and hear of their adventures of developing their test farm, learning to home school and just figuring out how to live life in the bush of Africa. I had come out for a day in October with Paul & Elizabeth and just knew I needed to come back (refresher: Lisa’s younger sister, Lindsey, is one of my great friends from growing up (along with Heidi from Ethiopia) and Paul knows Jason from RVA…so we are all connected).

It has been a great week…great conversations with Lisa and Jason about life, life in Africa, life amidst transition…the chance to meet three young volunteers who are out here because they want to help and are taking some time off from school to learn more about life…watching kids explore nature and tap into their creativity that isn’t stifled by hours upon hours of sitting in front of a television…sorting through (not exaggerating) over 200 stuffed animals (VALUABLE LESSON: don’t send stuffed animals to Africa for orphans—everyone else is already doing that. Also, no need to send underwear that you no longer use) and mounds of clothes…learning even more about hospitality and the values and challenges of living in community…and, I even got to milk a cow.

Lessons from Ethiopia

I just spent a few days in Ethiopia with my friend Heidi, her husband and her one-year old. Heidi and I have been friends since Kindergarten and I was so thrilled to be able to see her life in Ethiopia. I was only able to be there for 3 full days, I learned (at least) 3 valuable lessons.

Lesson #1: if having people help you move, it is helpful to have packed before they arrive OR at least have boxes on hand.
The first day we went out of Addis to help some of their friends move. I have helped people move in developing countries before and realize that things don’t have to be super neatly packed as it all gets piled on the back of a truck. But, boxes are helpful. Upon arrival, Heidi and I were asked to pack up the kitchen and given one box, some plastic bags and a duffle bag. After a bit, I quickly learned lesson #1b: no need to have 17 cans of cooking spray and IF someone keeps send it to you, politely tell them you have plenty.

Lesson #2: don’t always believe guide books.
Heidi and I decided to venture down to “Africa’s largest open air market” and read (and were told) it was not advisable to go without a guide to navigate it all and to help translate. Heidi hadn’t ever been down there, so we thought about it but then decided to go on our own. A few mini-bus rides later and we were there. I haven’t gotten over my “not wanting to look like a tourist complex” so I didn’t take any pictures but there were many I wish I had taken. Like the one of alley lined with the mamas sitting behind their barrels of spices and, in the middle of the alley, two boys washing each others’ hair. Or of the moment when, minding my own business at the minibus stop, I was about knocked over by a pack of donkeys. Or in the tailor section of the market where the alley was lined with sewing machines and the young men sewing were showing off their skills to the young women who crowded around the machines. It was a great morning. And, we found everything we wanted to find and got a great price (I have always been a fan of bargaining) all without a guide.

Lesson #3: The Ark of the Covenant is in Addis Ababa.


Okay, maybe not. But, that is what we were told we were looking at when toured the oldest (120 years) church in Addis. It was a cool church, but I am not so convinced about the Ark.

As I am writing this, I realize that there are many other things I learned…and the ones that stand out the most are that cute kids always win the favor of others and it is C.H.E.A.P. to eat in Addis. So get on over there because I know some people who you can stay with who happen to have a cute kid and know of a lot of great restaurants.

Things that make you go hmm....

December 3, 2007
Things that make you go hmmm….

A week ago I was making plans to visit my friend Heidi in Ethiopia. Making plans in Africa (especially travel plans) somehow manages to be both challenging and easy at the same time. I had gone in to check on flights a few weeks prior and was assured that I didn’t need to purchase the ticket at that moment because “the prices never change.” Perfect. But last week when I went to purchase the ticket, wouldn’t you know it, the price had jumped big time. No worries, however, it just meant I had to fly a different route and all was fine. Since I was planning on flying in less than a week,
thought it would be wise to buy the ticket then. But was told that nope, it was better to just get my reservation and come back to buy the ticket another time. Why? Because “it is better that way.” Fine. So I went back the next day but the power was out and couldn’t print up the tickets. Okay. So I went back two days before I was to fly to get my ticket. She confirms my reservation and asks, “would you like to buy the ticket today?” (as if buying the ticket at a later date was even an option since the office was going to be closed the next day). No worries, I walked out with my ticket and then just had to get a ticket on a shuttle to the airport.

So, the day before I need a shuttle to the airport, I go to a hotel shuttle office. Unfortunately they don’t have shuttles at the time I need to go. But, no worries, I can just show up the next day because there is another airline that sends a shuttle at that time. They pass through the hotel and if I just slip the driver $10 I can hop on, no worries. I asked if there for sure was going to be a shuttle, “Yes, there is always a shuttle. Come to the office and we can help you get on.”

Monday, the day I am flying to Ethiopia. I arrive at the shuttle office to wait for the shuttle. Good news, I am told, there are actually two shuttles so if the first one doesn’t show up (“but they always come”) I can get on the next one ½ hour later. Well, wouldn’t you know it, the first one doesn’t show. “No worries,” I am told…again, “you can just get on the next one. And see those people in that car out there? They are trying to do the same thing and if the shuttle doesn’t come maybe you can ask them for a ride.” Okay. Half-hour later, still no shuttle. After a phone call, it is discovered that there are no shuttles today. Before I leave, however, I try to solidify whether I will be able to catch a shuttle back from the airport on Friday. Here is the conversation as my bag is being loaded into the back of a SUV that belongs to two Kenyan UN workers that I am now hitching a ride from because there was no shuttle that day:

Me: so…I will be able to get a shuttle back on Friday?

Woman: yes, my rafiki, there will be no problem.

Me: is there anything I can do to confirm this?

Woman: no, no need to confirm.

Me: and there will be a shuttle on Friday?

Woman: well, yes of course! There are shuttles everyday.

Hmmm…..

Proofs

Last week I got to give a test on dental hygiene to a girl in Elizabeth’s second grade class who was absent the day the text was given in class. She aced it. And I (even after correcting the other kids tests the night before) still second guessed the correct answers and had to again check the answer key. I have found myself with this thought a lot the past couple of months…”geez, if I only remembered half of what I learned in elementary school…” I thought it as I corrected tests on bones or heard the kids describe the water cycle. I have thought about it as I have heard kids name the capitals of countries that I didn’t even know existed. And I wonder, is all that information there deep in the recesses of my mind and if there were a way to tap into it would I do better at Trivial Pursuit or beat my friends at Scrabble?

Then today I was reminded that I actually once was a whiz in math—especially geometry. I remembered this as I was journaling about what the heck I am going to do with my life when I graduate. As my time in Africa is coming closer to an end, I have been giving more and more thought to what is next. Different ideas have popped into my head…pastoring a church overseas, going back on Young Life staff, figuring out what I would have to do to live on the beach in the Dominican Republic…and while many of the options seem viable and even desirable, they usually come attached with the conditional statement I mastered in geometry:

“If (fill-in-the-blank), THEN…(fill-in-the-blank).”

The difference is that now they tend to be more directed to God than to a math teacher. As in, “If you want me to live here, then all of my friends need to live there too.” Or, “if I am to live overseas, then I want it to be a place where people can easily come visit.” Or, “if you want me to be a pastor of a church, then I want the church to have such and such qualities.”

The thing is, I'm not so sure God is in the bartering business. Not that I don’t think God wants us to make it known what we desire. I definitely think he wants us to voice our desires. Yesterday I had the opportunity to be with some amazing Young Life International folks and in one conversation was reminded that God, while maybe not in the bartering business, does have some clear promises for us. One of them being “If you delight in me, I will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4). I think this thought is often misunderstood. We may try to make it a converse conditional ("if God gives me my desires, then I will delight in him) or we may not understand that God's desires will actually become our desires. I am not sure there is geometrical way of explaining how this happens. But I guess sometimes you just need to lean into the promises before they are fully proven.

I've seen some cute monkeys...

...but none as cute as this one. Adam Paul Davelaar turns the big 1 today. Happy Birthday little buddy!

Climb Every Mountain

If you ever find yourself wondering if you ever accomplish anything, I recommend either doing the dishes by hand or climbing a mountain. There’s just something about both of those things that make you feel like a more productive person. Doing the dishes offers the quick fix of accomplishment whereas climbing a mountain leaves a more lasting impact (as in, two days later and I am still wondering if I will ever again be able to walk up and down stairs normally).

This past weekend I climbed Socialist Peak, which weighs in at 4562 meters (or about 15,000 feet for you Americans who stubbornly have resisted the metric system). Not going to lie, it was kind of hard and at a few points the thought crossed my mind that I was glad I had checked ‘yes’ to the extra “extreme activities” clause in my international health insurance. The tricky thing about Meru is that the first two days are really quite easy. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you are definitely not just going on a stroll, but your bags are being carried up by porters and you are bunking in huts that have giraffe near by! (look closely)




Then, the third day comes…or, perhaps the second day never ends. You get woken up at midnight, have some tea and biscuits and start off on your final ascent. Usually I am not too keen on hiking in the dark, but there were many a times in those 6 hours that I was grateful that I could only see one step ahead of me. Because one, there are about 5 false peaks (always a bit discouraging) and two, I was pretty sure there was nothing but a sheer cliff straight down just to the right as we scampered over the rock face on the left (which was, in fact, confirmed in the daylight). We stopped for a few moments to watch the sunrise over Kilimanjaro and then after another hour or so finally made it to the top. And it is then that you feel like you have just done something great.




Then you realize that you have yet to go all the way back down.

And go all the way back down we did. First we stopped at the second hut where we had “slept” the night before. We had a quick meal, packed up and were told we had to get going because of “the rains.” The descent was quite steep at this point and there is a stretch where there are about 1000 stairs (I am not even exaggerating…they put Mt. Baldy to shame). We made it to the first hut, sat for a few moments and then had to haul ass down to the gate before it got dark. Mt. Meru is in Arusha National Park and you have to be out by dark and is also why your guide is an armed ranger because you can encounter wild game like the herd of buffalo that was in our path just before we got back to the base.

When I sat down at the base, then I truly felt like I accomplished something. And my body is still reminding me what I have done every time I have sat down since.

And then the rains came...

Since I have been here I have heard this phrase a lot:"when the rains come..." As in, "when the rains come these dusty roads are going to be a mess" or "when the rains come the rats have a tendency to come into houses more." I have been waiting to see these rains for a while and a few days ago they showed up. Convenient timing since I am going to climb this mountain this weekend. I head out Friday morning with 5 Israelis and our guides. It is bound to be interesting. And, it is bound to be very, very wet.

African Chacos

"Mma Ramotswe nodded. She was familiar with people who liked to test out all sorts of theories about how people might live. There was something about the country that attracted them, as if in that vast dry country there was enough air for new ideas to breathe. Such people had been excited when the Brigade movement had been set up. They had thought it a very good idea that young people should be asked to spend time working for others and helping to build their country; but what was so exceptional about that? Did young people not work in rich countries? Perhaps they did not, and that is why these people, who came from such countries, should have found the whole idea so exciting. There was nothing wrong with these people--they were kind people usually, and treated the Batswana with respect. Yet somehow it could be tiring to be given advice. There was always some eager foreign organisation ready to say to Africans: this is what you do, this is how you should do things. The advice may be good, and it might work elsewhere, but Africa needed its own solutions." Tears of the Giraffe, Alexander McCall Smith

Which do you think lasts longer...a Vibram sole or a tire sole (usually guarenteed for at least 35,000 miles)?

The stars at night are big and bright....

This past week I had a chance to do something that I had done many a times in the Dominican Republic, host a workteam. I headed out to Malambo (seriously, a town in Maasai land in the middle of nowhere) with 10 Texans. We stayed in the "Help for the Maasai" compound that is run by Angelica, a German woman who has been here for about 25 years. And at one point in the week, two Dutch couples (real Dutch, not fake Dutch like me) showed up for a few days. Needless to say, there were many cross-cultural experiences throughout the week!

The group spent most of the week putting on eye clinics, working in the school and doing maintenance around the compound. And as with most workteams, one of the greatest concerns at the end of the week was "did we do enough?" Great things did happen during the week (though at one point I really questioned why we were giving out reading glasses to a predominately illiterate society...and I had a heck of a time trying to explain what "begotten" meant when I helped with arts & crafts at the school).
Some of the guys put up a wind generator which will surely benefit the compound and many of the teachers are desiring more teacher training after a few team members taught their classes. But if you ask me, the real work happened through the relationships between the Maasai and the Texans. By the end of the week, we had been invited to more bomas (homes) to drink chai than we had time for and the group was gifted 2 goats and countless amounts of beaded jewelry. And I was again reminded that not all communication comes through spoken language because let me tell you what, I had to think hard about what some of the Texans where saying at times, and I speak English!


While it was great to see people excited about getting new sunglasses and the hear the hum of the new wind generator, it was even more amazing to watch Angelica and hear some of her stories from the past 25 years of ministry. God does not call us to success, but to be faithful. And Angelica has been very, very faithful and through this faithfulness God has blessed the ministry. Yes I am sure she came with some new ideas and I am sure she has given some advice, but more than that she came with a heart to know people and to live amongst the people.

I do think short term missions do have value. But their value lies more in how the team is changed than what the team "does." I think the greatest thing that can be accomplished through a workteam is people coming to the realization that we often benefit each other most when we first listen. When we take time simply to observe and to be with people.

I love Young Life.

As I sat and watched a YL Club here in Arusha last week many thoughts went through my head. I couldn't help but be reminded of the first Club I saw in the DR while on a workteam. I remembered being overwhelmed because I couldn't understand a lick of what was being said. Yet, at the same time, feeling a sense of comfort because in many respects it was the same YL that I familiar with. You have the same games...


Same YL Skit where a leader has to look like an idiot...

And the same songs...the crowd favorites were Tracy Chapman's "Sorry" and a Swahili rendition of "Blind Man."
And, I was reminded that my absolute favorite YL Clubs are ones where all I have to do is sit and watch.

I have always thought one of, if not the, best things about Young Life is its ability to cross cultural divides. I have had the privilege to see YL in a few different countries and know that it can transcend international differences. But I have also witnessed it cross the cultural differences that come from age, economic status, or even simply living in a different part of town. I am not saying there aren't any differences. At this Club we all took our shoes off at the door, while in the DR it took one failed shoe-swap game to make it clear Dominicans were not about to take their shoes off for anything.

So what is it? Is it the fact that there are the same songs, the same pressure to come up with the coolest YL area t-shirts or the fact that every good skit closet includes at least one set of false teeth? Sure, this may be a part of it. But I think that ultimately it goes to show that everyone longs to for a bit (or a lot) of Jesus. Anyone remotely familiar with YL knows that the key is the relationships that are formed. And anyone remotely familiar with Jesus knows that this is what he spent a majority of his time doing, simply being with others and taking the time to get to know them.

I love being in a place where it is culturally appropriate to value people above time.

Biting Bullets

Today I bit a bullet and joined Facebook. I have withstood years of being harassed to become so-and-so's 'friend' but for some reason it was this morning that I finally caved in. Maybe it was article I read in Newsweek on the way to Africa assuring me that Facebook wasn't just for high school kids anymore or the BBC story I read this morning that moved me to finally create an account. I'd like to point out number 14 on BBC's list as to why Facebook may be worth $15bn:

"14. Facebook is the acceptable face of blogging - you can reflect your life and personality online without being seen as a "blogger", which often carries a geeky stigma."

Ouch.

Giraffes Galore

Since I am technically a tourist, Paul and Elizabeth entertain me at times by going to do 'touristy' things. While in Nairobi we visited a giraffe sanctuary where you can get up close and personal with the beauties. While we were there we saw a few school groups pass through and I thought, "nothing against DeGraaf Nature Center or Tuesink's Pony Farm, but Giraffe Sanctuary wins hands down in the 'cool field trip' category."



Here are a few pics...I am still working out how to create a link to see all my pictures. There is something not quite computing with my browser. Quite ironic, considering the name of my browser is Safari.

While we were in Naivasha we passed a Zebra that pretends its a horse. Jason told us that it hangs out in the horse pasture with the horses and seriously thinks its a horse. So we stopped the car and Jason told me to go try to pet it. He made it seem like it was a normal thing to do and that it should be easy. I trusted him completely since he is a bona fide bushman. This is about as close as I got. I felt like a failure. But then Jason told me when I got back to the car he has never touched it either, he just wanted to see if I could.

Six Degrees of Separation...

Last week Paul, Elizabeth and I safaried up to Nairobi. The main purpose of the trip was for Elizabeth's prenatal check-up, but we also took advantage of being in "the big city" and visited some fun restaurants and fun friends. On our way to Nairobi Elizabeth commented, "I love going to Nairobi. It's just like going to America." After a few days there she was reminded that it wasn't quite like America and on our trip home she commented, "The great thing about going to Nairobi is that it makes me so happy to go home to Arusha."

So anyone who doesn't believe in Six Degrees of Separation clearly hasn't been involved with Young Life (YL) or know about Rift Valley Academy (RVA). Our first night in Nairobi we went out for sushi with some of Paul's friends from RVA (to clarify, RVA is a boarding school in Kenya). I ended up sitting next to Allison and it didn't take us long to put together the fact that we had a mutual friend through Young Life in the Dominican Republic. Go figure.


While in Kenya we also ventured to Naivasha to visit the Hovingh family. See if you can follow all of this...Paul knows Jason from RVA. Paul and Elizabeth spent some time with Jason & Lisa at RVA on one of their R & Rs from Afghanistan. Lisa used to baby-sit me. Lisa's sister, Lindsey, is one of my best friends from growing up in Holland and was my housemate my first year back in the States. On the Hoving's refrigerator I saw a picture of Jeff, who I used to lead youth group with and who now is Lisa's brother-in-law and works at RVA. I also saw a picture of Katie, who is the sister of one of my classmates/peer-group members from seminary and also now works at RVA. So when you throw in the fact that I once met Bruce Willis, you can see how we really are all connected.

All in all it was a great week...nice to have a change of scenery and always fun to get another stamp in the passport. More than that, however, it was wonderful to connect with friends from Michigan and see how it all connects with the friends I have now. I am a big believer in not saying "goodbye" to people but rather, "see you later." And not in the sense of "see you later in the big sky when we are all living happily together on streets of gold" but in the sense that I am convinced that God continually weaves people in and out of our lives with a purpose. And it is often more likely than not that you will see them again...especially if you have some sort of YL or RVA connection.

Ziplocs = Luxury

This past year in our ethics class we talked a lot about habits. We thought a lot about why we do the things we do and the importance of being purposeful in the habits that we form. I don't remember if it was in this particular class, but at one point my friend Kate wrote a paper about how she washed out her Ziploc bags. She talked about how she learned this by watching her grandma, how she made a homemade 'drying line' for her Ziplocs and had some poetic line about how each time she washed out a bag she thought of caring for God's creation. While this may be true (the fact that she thought about it every time, not the fact that it is indeed better for creation), we did manage to find a way to tease her about it every now and again.

But I tell you what, I don't throw away Ziplocs too much anymore and I think about Kate (and God, creation, and all that other Save the Earth stuff, of course) every time I do.

Elizabeth and I were talking about washing Ziplocs this morning as she washed her Ziplocs. She can't believe that people throw out Ziplocs, but at the same time recognizes that she didn't think this way before moving to Africa where Ziplocs are scarce and dang expensive. They are somewhat of a luxury item. I wouldn't say the typical North American would think this way (Ziploc = Luxury). And I think that's okay. What I don't think is okay, however, is that we often don't care to make an extra effort to do something (i.e. walk or ride our bike instead of drive, recycle, eat only locally produced foods or wash our Ziplocs) until it is too pricey to do otherwise, convenient for us, or trendy to do so.

So, if you need tips on how to make your own drying line for Ziplocs, I am sure my friend Kate would be happy to help you.

Just another typical Saturday AM in Africa

I am not a big Morning Talker. I have learned that sometimes it is important to voice this to people who are Morning Talkers, so that they understand that one, I might not respond to their attempts at communication (but it doesn't mean that I am upset or mad) and two, I might just flat out avoid them in the morning.

Last night there was another couple staying at Paul & Elizabeth's, so this morning I purposefully stayed in my room. At one point I had a text conversation with Elizabeth as to the status of the other people in the house. She too was lying low in bed...but make no mistake about it, it was not because she too is not a Morning Talker. I made it clear that I was planning on reading in my room until the other guests left and so she jokingly (or so I thought) asked if I would like Paul to bring me breakfast in bed. I texted an order (complete with a request for a fresh flower on my plate) to her and told her to just let me know when the coast was clear.

A bit later, however, there was a knock on my door.


Bottom line, sometimes it pays to be anti-social in the morning.

A Busy Week

I've been here about a month now and am quite frequently, "are you finding enough things to do to keep you busy?" I try to politely explain that the whole reason I came to Africa was to not be busy.

And I find it somewhat ironic that I am in a land where this seems to be the way of life: and people here are quite concerned that I have enough to do.

Though I am not here to do anything specific, I am finding myself slipping into some semblance of a routine. Mondays I meet with the new YL staff person who is trying to start a YL Club in a town about an hour away. Tuesdays I spend the day at school with Elizabeth reading with her kids and then head over to the other international school to tutor George. Wednesdays I spend time at Step By Step Learning Center and Thursdays I am up for another round of "are you smarter than a fourth grader?" with George. After not having much of a set routine this past month, having one thing to do each day suddenly makes me feel like I am busy (and I didn't think this mindset kicked in until retirement).

So there you have it, my routine. Of course, it gets thrown off by half-term break so schools are off and George is jetting to Italy for a week and a half. And then there will be the week where I help host a work team, climb a mountain or head off to visit Peace Corp volunteers at their sites. I have heard that you have to do something 30 times or so for it to become a habit, but I am not sure how many weeks in a row you have to do something for it to become a routine...

Found One!

"Yeah, I'm a pretty good shot..."

I have learned after camping with friends and family throughout the years that “camping” means different things to different people. So, when I was told that we were going “camping in the bush” this past weekend, I really had no idea what to expect. But let me tell you, if that was what is considered “camping” in Africa, anyone could be a camper.

The purpose of the weekend was to celebrate Paul & Elizabeth’s birthdays. So a group of about 15 of us went off into the bush of Africa to spend the weekend on a hunting block (chunk of land ‘owned’ by people who then run a hunting/safari company) eating good food, drinking good beer and shooting things. This particular hunting block is managed stateside by Paul’s brother, which means that I spent a weekend doing what people pay 1000s of bucks to do, and I didn’t have to pay one shilling. And since I am Dutch, this thought was almost as thrilling as seeing giraffes, zebra and elephants fairly up close and personal.

Anyway, one of the funniest moments (for me) was learning how to shoot a rifle. I have a vague memory of guns being banned as toys growing up (maybe this was just at my grandparents house) and hunting definitely is not a pastime in my family, so handling a gun was a new thing for me. I was mostly worried about bruising my shoulder or poking my eye out, and not too worried about hitting the target (no, not a live animal but a harmless cardboard box).



So after finally positioning myself correctly, I just let ‘er rip. I was just thankful to not have been thrown off the bench by the kickback, but wouldn’t you know it, I actually hit the target and somehow it ended up being the second best shot of the morning.

I should have had the sense to retire because then the shotgun came out. These are pictures of the target (water bottle propped up on a bush) before and after my shots.










Yep, they’re the same. It kind of reminded me of how I play golf: about once a year. Each time I do pretty decent so I decide not to test the waters by golfing again. This way I can claim, “yeah, I’m a pretty good golfer.” So when Shoshi said, “you were shooting really high” I responded, “Of course! It’s just like my golf swing. I thought I had my eye on the target, but then it just doesn’t work out the way I think it will…”

No worries, as they say. I didn’t want to show up the other men too much in one morning.

Fotos

I have always been drawn to the art of photography. Perhaps it is because I don't really draw much (besides the occasional palm tree in the margain of my notes) but I would like to have some sort of art skill and since I do have a camera, I figure that I can at least practice. I also think it is because I have some very creative friends who have taught me to look at the world through different lenses. I once spent many, many hours (days...weeeeeks) roaming around the Dominican Republic with my Swedish friend, Patrik. He was in the DR making videos for Young Life about ministry and life in the DR. I don't think he once looked around without looking for the "perfect" shot. While it was frustrating some days (like the day where I just wanted to be home and didn't want to pull over to the side of the mountain road (again) so he could take yet another shot of brightly hanging laundry) spending time with him helped me to examine my surroundings differently.

I have taken some pictures while I have been here, but there are about a thousand and one more that I wish I had taken. Like the one of the 3 year-old boy wearing one rollerblade and one plastic rollerskate (the kind you put over your shoe) trying to make his way down the streets of Zanzibar; or the group of Massai having having a 'tribal council' meeting on the side of the mountain at sunset. Most of the time I either don't have my camera or it just seems too intrusive to take a picture. Many of the pictures I wish I had are pictures of people just doing their everyday life sort of things and I am just not bold enough to take a picture.

Sometimes I wonder if I would feel bolder if I had a more "professional" looking (a.k.a. bulkier) camera. You know, so I could try to fool people into thinking that I was taking pictures for some sort of "official" purchase and not have them think that I was just another tourist trying to get a good shot. And while I think some of it stems from cultural sensitivity, I think another part stems from pride: not wanting to appear like just another tourist. I have watched enough Alias in my life to hold on to the hope that someday a real-life Marshal is going to create something that will enable us to somehow store pictures in our eyes. Like a microchip that fits like a contact lens and when you want to capture a picture all you have to do is wink. You might run into the problem that others think you are hitting on them, but you'd definitely be able to sneakily get some great pictures.

Since that probably isn't going to happen anytime soon, perhaps I should just work on getting over my pride.

Anyway, I have been trying to upload some pictures from Zanzibar and our recent "camping" trip to online galleries, but it isn't working. In the mean time...here are a few pictures of what I have seen and done lately...

Dhows at Sunset in Zanzibar


Storefront in Stone Town (Zanzibar)


Where I spent about 5 hours on Saturday


Sundowners with Paul & Elizabeth on Sunset Hill

You shouldn't love your spouse more than cheese...

This past week I was down in Dar es Salaam visiting some friends from the Dominican Republic (Charlie and Nancy Crane). It’s crazy that I have multiple DR connections here in Tanzania but then again, the world is a pretty crazy place.

It’s hard to fully describe Charlie & Nancy as they are unlike any people I have ever met. Perhaps this comes from the fact that they have lived in at least 7 different countries (he works for USAID), they have a steady stream of Peace Corp Volunteers and other vagabonds staying at their house in whichever country they live, they have raised three remarkable children, and they seem to fit in effortlessly in whichever country and community they find themselves in (though I know from conversations with them that it does indeed take a lot of effort!).

Nancy has really found her niche here in Tanzania. She is truly passionate about educating people on sex, specifically what the Bible has to say (or not say) about sex. In the past couple of years she has been able to give her talks to a few different groups of young people (young = anyone who is not yet married) here in Dar. I had the chance to go with her while she spoke to a university group for the first time, as well as sit in on a conversation the following evening with a group of young church leaders who had heard this talk a few months ago. While many of the lessons she taught may seem basic (i.e. God has designed sex for marriage, sex is to be enjoyed, rape is wrong, multiple sex partners at one time is not a good idea) it truly was radical information for many.

Sex is not talked about here. But it doesn’t mean that there isn’t an abundance of sex being had. While this may seem like a sexually conservative culture on the outside, if you dig a bit deeper you discover that sex and sexual relationships are perhaps even more complex and convoluted than they are in the States. I learned this weekend that it is not uncommon for people to have various partners depending on what ‘needs’ they might have, that most women are raped at some point (though they wouldn’t call it that) and that many university students are involved in transactional sex (i.e. a young woman will find herself offered rides to and from her village and in return ‘asked’ for sex).

While I didn’t agree with every single point that Nancy made, I completely agree that sex ought to be talked about more in the church. Kudos to her for talking about sex and encouraging others to talk about it as well.

The most comical point in the evening at the university came after 2 ½ hours of sex talk. Dunford, the leader of the group, decided it would be a good time for an altar call (side note: this solidified the thought I have had for a while that if I ever write a book it will be entitled “Altar Calls”). Why on earth he thought that, I have no idea. But he got out his best preacher voice and was backed by a synthesizer playing quietly in the background some of the cheesiest (in my personal opinion) worship songs. Anyway, he was on a roll and I was really getting tired and just wanted to sit down but we were adamantly encouraged to “stand before the Lord,” when I swear I heard him say, “You shouldn’t love your spouse more than cheese!” What?!? After daring to open my eyes and take a quick glance around, It didn’t take me too long to figure out that it was more likely that he said “more than Jesus” but at that point I had already lost it. So there I was, the only mzungu woman in the crowd with the giggles during the altar call.

And all I really kept thinking was,”hmm…I really like cheese. If I ever have a spouse that might be a hard one for me…”

YL

I spent this afternoon with Jackie and Alex. Alex is the area director of Young LIfe here in Arusha and so we got together to talk about, of course, Young Life. And they also answered my many questions about Swahili, how to get around on the Daladalas, explained the dowry system (they are getting married in a month), told me that American TV is setting the standard for dating relationships (Lord help us all), explained the political climate of various African countries and tried to settle the question of what, exactly, is the proper way to pronounce Tanzania. It was a great afternoon.

Young Life with the nationals in Arusha has taken off great guns. But the Young Life staff in Arusha has taken some hits over the past year. Both the North American females hired to run the International Schools YL Club have resigned. Alex was eager for me to jump in and get Club going again but after talking this afternoon realized that was not the best option. So, while I am here I am going to meet weekly with the newest YL staff member (another young woman from the States) who has been hired to do YL in a town an hour away from here. Here would be another opporune time to pull out a soapbox (this one being titled: "A Million and One Reasons Not to Send Young, Single Females to Start Young Life in Another Country All By Themselves") but I won't. Aside from spending time with Alisa, I am just going to try to support Alex in whatever way I can.

On another YL note, tomorrow I head to Dar es Salaam. It is about a 9 hour bus ride and I am not sure on the leg room situation. I am not even fully sure on the seat room situation! I am going to visit Nancy and Charlie Crane who became great friends while I worked for YL in the Dominican Republic. They housed YL Club every other week in the capital as well as housed me because I would commute down from Santiago to help run the Club. They now live in Dar and I am thrilled that I will get to be with them for a week. I am planning on spending a couple of days in Zanzibar (get out your maps) as well. Should be a good week.

One thing I like about Elizabeth is...

Somehow I found myself in a group of friends in the past couple of years who have this tradition of sharing "one thing" they like about the birthday person on their birthday. It can be kind of awkward ( especially if there are people in the group who don't really know the birthday person) but usually it works out just fine. And usually there is one person (Lauren or Katie) who tries to name more than one thing they like about the person. Anyway, today is Elizabeth's birthday. So I thought I would share one thing I like about Elizabeth in the form of one very long run-on sentence...

I like Elizabeth because she can think of a song for every situation and she is more than happy to share it with others while she serves them delicious food (that she has made from scratch even in a country where you can't always find what you need or you have to use soured cream cheese for a cheesecake that you auctioned it off at a church fundraiser) and I like that when in large groups and something strikes me as funny (but no one else seems to think so) I can count on catching her eye across the room knowing that she thought it was funny too and later we can talk about it and laugh...a lot and not only do we laugh a lot but sometimes we cry and that's okay too and she is an incredible teacher (whether it be her 3rd grade class or trying to teach me the correct form of a TaeBo kick) and she is the best beverage maker of anyone I know (insert whatever kind of beverage you would like) and she has graciously allowed me to live with her, her husband and their two dogs for the next few months. Bottom line, I like Elizabeth. Okay one more thing, she still runs even though her pregnant belly sometimes bumps the front of the treadmill (and, for those of you who I told I was excited to run with her because now she would probably run my speed...I was wrong. She still kicks my ass.)

So Happy Birthday Elizabeth, you are the best around and nothing's ever gonna keep you down (even if you don't get all my song references).

Step by Step

No, the title is not referencing one of the many hits from everyone's favorite teenage band: NKOTB (I suppose when I say everyone, I specifically mean everyone who was a teenage girl about 15ish years ago). Step by Step is the name of a learning center here in Arusha. It is one of Omega's ongoing projects (Omega being Paul's NGO) and it is where I spent some time yesterday morning. The story of this school, and more specifically the mother who started this school, is remarkable. If you want a brief overview of the school you can click here. The website doesn't fully express the perseverance, intelligence, compassion, sense of humor and love for her daughter that Margaret possesses. I am in awe of this woman. She brings the idea of advocacy and passion to a whole new level.

Most of my time was spent yesterday morning reading with Umesalma. She is probably in her upper teens but has the mental capacity and social skills of a lower elementary student. Umesalma is quite intelligient, but lacks a great deal of social awareness. She, like all the students at Step by Step, is so full of love and wishes to share it with anyone who walks in the door. On one level, her ability to love and trust others is inspiring; but on another level it can to dangerous situations. Anyway, we spent most of our time reading to each other and doing written excercises on gerunds (quick: anyone remember what a gerund is?). She clearly knew how to make a gerund, but didn't always understand the content of the sentences. After gerund-ing the word "take" in this sentence, "Sheena does not like taking drugs," Umesalma turned to me and said, "what are drugs." I had about a 5 second string of panicky thoughts that ranged from, "Just Say No!" to "what if her parents need her to take medicine (and call them drugs) and I tell Umesalma that drugs are bad for you." What to do?!?! So I simply said something like, "Drugs are something that people take sometimes and they aren't always good for you." Nice and ambiguous. I was ready for further questions but Umesalma simply said, "Okay" and moved on to the next sentence, "Orango dislikes drinkig alcohol." Thankfully this one passed without any questions.

I am hoping to get to Step by Step regularly...I mean, I am Umesalma's "favorite teacher" right now. Flattering. But I quickly realized that her true favorite is Paul. When she realized I was leaving with teacher Margaret at lunch she looked disappointed. I thought, "that's so sweet." But then she said, "so that means Paul isn't coming to pick you up?" That was the source of her true disappointment. Oh well.

Currently I am sitting in Paul and Elizabeth's living room watching some "professionals" cut down trees in their back yard. It is going to be a miracle if they don't end up with an unwanted skylight in their house.

And finally, for everyone who was hoping this post was indeed a NKOTB reference...

Step by step
Gonna get to you girl
Step by step ooh baby
Gonna get to you girl
Step by step ooh baby
Really want you in my world

Hey girl in your eyes
I see a picture of me all the time
And girl when you smile
You got to know that you drive me wild

Step by step Ooh baby
Youre always on my mind
Step by step Ooh girl
I really think its just a matter of time

On a lighter note...

I sailed through jet-lag like a champ. Unfortunately, I think I may have discovered I have an allergy to dust. This is unfortunate since it looks like this anytime we drive anywhere...

You can only read this post if you promise not to panic.

This past week I have been adjusting to life here in Arusha. Am I fully adjusted? No way. Will I be before I leave? Probably not. But I am hoping this won’t bother me given that I am not expecting to feel fully adjusted. Holding loosely to your expectations...that has never been easy for me. We can try to anticipate and guess what might await us, but (in my experience anyway) life continues to throw us a good zinger every once in a while.

In an email a few days before I left the States my friend Elizabeth sent a heads up on some happenings here in Arusha. In the past few weeks there have been a few security incidences, specifically targeting white people. This has been very concerning for the community in Arusha because it is a rather small community and this kind of behavior was very atypical. She wanted to warn me and let me know that she understood if I didn't want to come anymore. Well hello, of course I was still going to go! Not just because I am Dutch and couldn't stand to lose an $1800 plane ticket, but also because this was a chance to spend some time in Africa and I wasn't planning on giving that up. But for a moment, my expectations as to how safe I might feel here did change for a bit. Then I got here and I found that I didn't really feel any less safe and things had really seemed to calm down (according to those who live here).

The other night, however, there was another incident that has again raised some concerns. A group of men robbed the restaurant and bar at a local club and killed one of the bartenders. This isn't just any club. It is a club that caters to the ex-pat community and is where many go to work out, play rugby or just socialize. I went there my first day (and we go there a few times a week to work out and hang out) and was extremely blown away with the contrast of this place with the rest of Arusha that I had seen (side note: I had meant to write a blog on the differences between these two worlds that I had seen in one day. To pull out the 'ol social justice soapbox and talk about the tensions that exist within our world between the "haves" and "have nots." But, I never got around to it. It seemed like too daunting of a task to put into words...and I was still jet lagged. I wish I had, however, because I think it would have made this post a: shorter, b: more impacting and c: easier to fully understand). As people have been talking about the robbery, it doesn't seem that surprising that the club was a target. It is poorly secured and well known as a hub for ex-pats.

But that doesn't make it any easier to understand.

So what will happen now? Security will probably be tightened around the club. Perhaps some walls will be built. People who were there will replay the scene in their head and many "what if..." scenarios will inhabit the minds of even those who weren't there to witness it. The minds of all will become a breeding ground for fear, anxiety, bitterness and anger. And none of this will make it easier to understand.

Bottom line, the other night expectations again shifted. The new college graduate who envisioned the adventures of her first year teaching overseas suddenly is hit with the reality that she feels very, very far from home. The new bride of the bartender who envisioned growing old with her husband is suddenly hit with the reality that she is a very, very young widow. And many black Tanzanians (whether they realize it or not) will suddenly find themselves lumped into a stereotype that invokes fear, anger and prejudice whenever they approach a white person.

This definitely is not easy to understand. But, I do ask for you to understand that I do not wish for you to worry or be anxious for me (or others here). Yes, you can pray for us...pray for safety and that fear, anger and bitterness will have no place in our hearts or our minds. And know that we do exercise caution and common sense but for the most part we go on with life as usual. Like I've said, life can throw you a zinger. And this can happen whether you are in Arusha, Tanzania or Holland, Michigan. The best we can do, I suppose, is to continue to hold loosely to our expectations while at the same time hold even more tightly to our hope for the redemption of this broken (and often difficult to understand) world.

Japanese Pies

So Paul and I had lunch today at a restaurant called "Japanese Fast Food & Beer." There were many, many funny things about this experience...like the fact that the restaurant was "in" an old container that you use to ship goods to other countries and there was karaoke (mostly Elton John and Phil Collins) on 3 screens (which would be even funnier to you if you could visualize the size of the restaurant). But, perhaps the funniest was the menu. Specifically, the "recipe" for Japanese Pie. Try reading this in front of the very attentive waitstaff while keeping a straight face (you can click the picture to enlarge)

I could not partake in the Japanese PIe because of my body's rejection of shell fish. But Paul decided it would be fun to test out the "recipe." If you are ever in Arusha and have a hankering for Japanese Fast Food, I know just the place.