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