I was in Victoria this last week, and one morning run took me down a cement barge and down to the lighthouse. The wind was strong that day, and waves crashed into the barrier and sent spray up and over the edge. One one side the sea raged, on the other the harbour was calm. Few of us made it to the end, and those who did arrived soaking wet.
The next day, my mom and I tried it again. But that day, the winds were even stronger. The waves were even higher. The danger was even greater. We were saturated by the waves, and battered by the winds. We did not make it all the way to the lighthouse. In consideration of safety, we had to turn back. I saw no one make it to the lighthouse that day.
It struck me, as we were heading back into the howling wind, fighting to stay on course, that sometimes, the only way to stay upright and on course is to walk into the storm. Thus far, it is a literal observation, but I am filing it away for when I will need it figuratively.
Monday 27 December 2010
Saturday 11 December 2010
Painkillers
Painkillers are standard fare when a person becomes a palliative care patient. The number one priority in end of life care is to keep that person free of physical pain. Around the clock, the medicine does its job; though it doesn't stop the pain from actually occurring, it does stop the brain's ability to recognize that pain. There are other benefits that the drugs provide. In post-operative care, providing pain control theoretically helps a body to recover more quickly. And, for any paitient, being pain free helps to improve a person's sense of their quality of life and in doing so can provide people with mental strength as well. In some cases, a dying person regains resolve and a will to live.
With all the benefits, there are also risks. Pain killers slow down metabolisms, making it difficult for the body to rid itself of waste, and also allowing the medication to build itself up in the body. This means that blood levels must be monitored, as too much can lead to overdose and death. "What does that matter to a dying person?", you may ask. Well, a lot of dying people don't want to die, they just want to be pain free, and to live in that state as long as they can. Painkillers also slow down the Central Nervous System, which slows heart rate and breathing rates, cause fatigue, may cause hallucinations, and can also slow down thought processing. Emotions become numb. So though the benefits can be great, so can be the risks.
But, as we know, there are different kinds of pain. Pain of the heart and mind does not find relief from painkillers**, though addictions to them may mask the symptoms. Many painkillers of this kind are not pharmaceutical at all, but are behaviours and habits one has acquired to block out pain. Examples of such are getting submerged in work and other obligations; countless hours of television, video games, reading, or internet; withdrawing from life; over-participating in life; food addictions; emotional numbness; emotional walls; and an overemphasis of trying to just be "normal". Dealing with it and moving on, but skipping the deal with it part.
Sometimes these mechanisms are used to pass a little time. Then, when the wound isn't so fresh, we can go back and attend to it. But often this is not the intent. Often we kill pain with the hope that it will go away permanently and we will never have to experience it again. The problem is that no matter how many pretty flowers and new sod we put on top of that churned up dirt, roots of old will poke through somewhere, sometime, somehow.
There are too many kinds of pain, and too many kinds of possibilities of what that pain can do to go into things. I am not a pain expert, though I have great experience in certain kinds. But it really struck me how it is such a goal of our culture to be "pain free". Is there such a thing? Is it a healthy thing if it is? And is pain really the worst thing in the world, when in its terrible way it is a direct side effect of love lost? I am going to be bold enough to suggest that happiness is not just an absence of pain, as I'm sure joy is not. It bubbles from a different place. But in choosing to feel at all, in wanting to feel all the good that we sometimes so desperately must, it is impossible to block out the sorrow that rushes from underground.
In summary, if I choose to experience life, I must let myself feel. Painkillers are not meant to be permanent for someone who has a lot of living left to do. If I let myself feel, I can't control what I get to feel. There are some deep rivers of sorrow under the same ground that the springs of delight bubble up from. If I numb myself from the pain, I numb myself from all of that too. Part of healing is hurting. Sometimes a deeper hurt that I would have ever thought was possible a few months ago. I would give or do anything I can think of if it was possible to return what I have lost. But since I can't, I must learn to love life without him. And so I must feel, and so I must hurt. And so I must heal.
**(Please note some illnesses, like depression and bipolar disorder for example, can respond to anti-depressant medications enough to evert crisis and give an individual a chance at wellness. If you may have one of these illnesses, please give it a shot. You've got a lot to lose).
With all the benefits, there are also risks. Pain killers slow down metabolisms, making it difficult for the body to rid itself of waste, and also allowing the medication to build itself up in the body. This means that blood levels must be monitored, as too much can lead to overdose and death. "What does that matter to a dying person?", you may ask. Well, a lot of dying people don't want to die, they just want to be pain free, and to live in that state as long as they can. Painkillers also slow down the Central Nervous System, which slows heart rate and breathing rates, cause fatigue, may cause hallucinations, and can also slow down thought processing. Emotions become numb. So though the benefits can be great, so can be the risks.
But, as we know, there are different kinds of pain. Pain of the heart and mind does not find relief from painkillers**, though addictions to them may mask the symptoms. Many painkillers of this kind are not pharmaceutical at all, but are behaviours and habits one has acquired to block out pain. Examples of such are getting submerged in work and other obligations; countless hours of television, video games, reading, or internet; withdrawing from life; over-participating in life; food addictions; emotional numbness; emotional walls; and an overemphasis of trying to just be "normal". Dealing with it and moving on, but skipping the deal with it part.
Sometimes these mechanisms are used to pass a little time. Then, when the wound isn't so fresh, we can go back and attend to it. But often this is not the intent. Often we kill pain with the hope that it will go away permanently and we will never have to experience it again. The problem is that no matter how many pretty flowers and new sod we put on top of that churned up dirt, roots of old will poke through somewhere, sometime, somehow.
There are too many kinds of pain, and too many kinds of possibilities of what that pain can do to go into things. I am not a pain expert, though I have great experience in certain kinds. But it really struck me how it is such a goal of our culture to be "pain free". Is there such a thing? Is it a healthy thing if it is? And is pain really the worst thing in the world, when in its terrible way it is a direct side effect of love lost? I am going to be bold enough to suggest that happiness is not just an absence of pain, as I'm sure joy is not. It bubbles from a different place. But in choosing to feel at all, in wanting to feel all the good that we sometimes so desperately must, it is impossible to block out the sorrow that rushes from underground.
In summary, if I choose to experience life, I must let myself feel. Painkillers are not meant to be permanent for someone who has a lot of living left to do. If I let myself feel, I can't control what I get to feel. There are some deep rivers of sorrow under the same ground that the springs of delight bubble up from. If I numb myself from the pain, I numb myself from all of that too. Part of healing is hurting. Sometimes a deeper hurt that I would have ever thought was possible a few months ago. I would give or do anything I can think of if it was possible to return what I have lost. But since I can't, I must learn to love life without him. And so I must feel, and so I must hurt. And so I must heal.
**(Please note some illnesses, like depression and bipolar disorder for example, can respond to anti-depressant medications enough to evert crisis and give an individual a chance at wellness. If you may have one of these illnesses, please give it a shot. You've got a lot to lose).
Wednesday 29 September 2010
Some highlights of the days
Though I've been out of Doroji 6 weeks and out of Africa over a month, tonight - as I often do - I'm thinking about it. So here are some of the memories that are surfacing. By no means is it a complete list.
Laughter:
- Watching our adult male students act out the part of the mother during the childbirth classes - complete with sound effects! Oh the days I wish my camera was in class :) This is only one of many reasons that I loved being in class every day.
- Ridiculous laughter over language and culture with a friend while on vacation in Kurmuk. Good for the soul :)
Wildest missions:
- Being a part of a rescue effort when one of our team members lost their phone... in the latrine. Check out Amelia Jane's "crap phone" post for more details.
- Shoveling dirt and gravel and being a wheelbarrow mama. Being complemented for my efforts like this "you're like a man". Ummm... thanks?
Favourite Journeys:
- Heading out to Gasmala with Kata. Hanging out with the women there and reuniting with old friends. Even sleeping in the goat pee bed.
- Going on outreach with the guys. Love the conversations we could have while walking together. Love the adventure of trekking through the bush. Love watching them grow with each time we went out.
- Vacationing in Kurmuk to reunite with friends I hadn't seen for 11 years, and the love and fellowship we shared that week.
Favourite TV show
- Definitely the "Scottish Hour" over lunch for those few weeks in June/July. It could be prime time programming. Can I just say that 6 Scots in one place is really fun to watch. Witty banter galore.
Favourite Food
- Anything with K3. Can I just say - you guys are the bomb! Foundation and Development, Julie Cakes, P-31, and Kev (why didn't you get a nickname?). I'd eat dinner with you guys any day of the week. Hey wait - we did that! Inside and outside of the kitchen, I miss you loads. The atmosphere, the candles, the creativity, and even Sudan's greatest playlist on ipod. Sensational.
- And - I really like Sudanese food too. A lot. I especially like the fellowship and the unity that takes place around sharing a table. I miss sorghum. And coffee.
Remembering the deepest parts of mankind.
- Faith and love are deeper than culture. Take my word for it; they just are.
Favourite Sport to watch.
- CHW vs. Khawadjia football (soccer) match. Maybe my favourite sport to watch ever. Remind me, who won again? Oh, yeah ;) GO CHW's GO! From then until forever, I pray that you will play your best and work together and go strong. GO CHW's GO!
- And I really enjoyed watching World Cup Soccer in Bunj. I was going to tell someone about it today, but felt like it would be bragging. Seriously, how cool is that?
Favourite critter stories:
- The 4 scorpions in one night with Jo. We tag teamed that pretty good, I'd say.
- "Cake! Cake! Cake!"
- The narrow miss with the night adder.
- Finding wild... hedgehogs. One was stuck in a bag of coconut and his quills wouldn't let him pull himself back out. It got rescued.
Favourite Routine things I don't do here:
- Bucket shower under the stars. Sigh. It's fantastic.
- Floss my teeth outside under a multitude of stars.
- Take 3 hours to make dinner.
There's so much more, but it's time for bed now. It's good to remember; I don't want to forget.
Laughter:
- Watching our adult male students act out the part of the mother during the childbirth classes - complete with sound effects! Oh the days I wish my camera was in class :) This is only one of many reasons that I loved being in class every day.
- Ridiculous laughter over language and culture with a friend while on vacation in Kurmuk. Good for the soul :)
Wildest missions:
- Being a part of a rescue effort when one of our team members lost their phone... in the latrine. Check out Amelia Jane's "crap phone" post for more details.
- Shoveling dirt and gravel and being a wheelbarrow mama. Being complemented for my efforts like this "you're like a man". Ummm... thanks?
Favourite Journeys:
- Heading out to Gasmala with Kata. Hanging out with the women there and reuniting with old friends. Even sleeping in the goat pee bed.
- Going on outreach with the guys. Love the conversations we could have while walking together. Love the adventure of trekking through the bush. Love watching them grow with each time we went out.
- Vacationing in Kurmuk to reunite with friends I hadn't seen for 11 years, and the love and fellowship we shared that week.
Favourite TV show
- Definitely the "Scottish Hour" over lunch for those few weeks in June/July. It could be prime time programming. Can I just say that 6 Scots in one place is really fun to watch. Witty banter galore.
Favourite Food
- Anything with K3. Can I just say - you guys are the bomb! Foundation and Development, Julie Cakes, P-31, and Kev (why didn't you get a nickname?). I'd eat dinner with you guys any day of the week. Hey wait - we did that! Inside and outside of the kitchen, I miss you loads. The atmosphere, the candles, the creativity, and even Sudan's greatest playlist on ipod. Sensational.
- And - I really like Sudanese food too. A lot. I especially like the fellowship and the unity that takes place around sharing a table. I miss sorghum. And coffee.
Remembering the deepest parts of mankind.
- Faith and love are deeper than culture. Take my word for it; they just are.
Favourite Sport to watch.
- CHW vs. Khawadjia football (soccer) match. Maybe my favourite sport to watch ever. Remind me, who won again? Oh, yeah ;) GO CHW's GO! From then until forever, I pray that you will play your best and work together and go strong. GO CHW's GO!
- And I really enjoyed watching World Cup Soccer in Bunj. I was going to tell someone about it today, but felt like it would be bragging. Seriously, how cool is that?
Favourite critter stories:
- The 4 scorpions in one night with Jo. We tag teamed that pretty good, I'd say.
- "Cake! Cake! Cake!"
- The narrow miss with the night adder.
- Finding wild... hedgehogs. One was stuck in a bag of coconut and his quills wouldn't let him pull himself back out. It got rescued.
Favourite Routine things I don't do here:
- Bucket shower under the stars. Sigh. It's fantastic.
- Floss my teeth outside under a multitude of stars.
- Take 3 hours to make dinner.
There's so much more, but it's time for bed now. It's good to remember; I don't want to forget.
Monday 6 September 2010
The big dipper
I saw you tonight for the first time in a while. Standing out in the sky, your tail pointing West and the stars of the spoon making a straight line to Polaris. For the first time in a while, I knew where I was for sure. You were familiar again, in that from-of-old sort of way. Familiar in the way that I don't need to think about you, I just know you. Like when you're reading something in your own language and you don't have to sound out the word, you just know what it says. I didn't have to piece together your stars, you just appeared in that familiar composition and I recognized you without effort. Did you know, that wherever in the world that I am, I always try to find you? You are a tangible piece of evidence that makes my present real.
Months ago I searched to find you, and there you were. Perched on the horizon, upside down, Polaris dropped somewhere off the edge of the cliff of that is the sky. I can easily recognize you in that state now too. I have for a while. I remember the first time I saw you upside down - for literally months you had been just in front of me and I had no idea. On the verge of returning to my home country, there you were... something that links different parts of my world together. You had been there the whole time. If I had saw you there first, I would have thought that you were upside down here, and not there. It's just perception, that's all.
I'm in the city now, and have lost you again. Most of the time, I don't even know that I miss you. I don't even know that I miss me; that part of me that grew up with you in a brilliant starry sky that had little competition from man-made lights, and other parts of me that aren't a part of life here these days. In the place I am now, I just need to believe that you exist. There is scarce evidence downtown. But I can picture you easily, both ways, upside right and upside down (either could be either), because I've seen you both ways. I know you both ways.
When I came to the city I knew I would be giving you up for a while, that my faith would have to be deeper than sight to remember you. And in Africa I knew that too, in subsequent visits to the continent - that I would be seeing you from a different point of view. Yet you bring me comfort and contentment in these places. In a world of change and places and whirlwinds, you make me feel like I'm home. You remind me of Someone I know. And I know that though you were not made just for me, that part of His plan in creating you was to remind me of Him in whose image I am made and whose beauty you reflect. Between clouds and city lights, I won't see you tonight, but someone will. And I will continue on believing that you are there.
Months ago I searched to find you, and there you were. Perched on the horizon, upside down, Polaris dropped somewhere off the edge of the cliff of that is the sky. I can easily recognize you in that state now too. I have for a while. I remember the first time I saw you upside down - for literally months you had been just in front of me and I had no idea. On the verge of returning to my home country, there you were... something that links different parts of my world together. You had been there the whole time. If I had saw you there first, I would have thought that you were upside down here, and not there. It's just perception, that's all.
I'm in the city now, and have lost you again. Most of the time, I don't even know that I miss you. I don't even know that I miss me; that part of me that grew up with you in a brilliant starry sky that had little competition from man-made lights, and other parts of me that aren't a part of life here these days. In the place I am now, I just need to believe that you exist. There is scarce evidence downtown. But I can picture you easily, both ways, upside right and upside down (either could be either), because I've seen you both ways. I know you both ways.
When I came to the city I knew I would be giving you up for a while, that my faith would have to be deeper than sight to remember you. And in Africa I knew that too, in subsequent visits to the continent - that I would be seeing you from a different point of view. Yet you bring me comfort and contentment in these places. In a world of change and places and whirlwinds, you make me feel like I'm home. You remind me of Someone I know. And I know that though you were not made just for me, that part of His plan in creating you was to remind me of Him in whose image I am made and whose beauty you reflect. Between clouds and city lights, I won't see you tonight, but someone will. And I will continue on believing that you are there.
Wednesday 11 August 2010
Here Now
Tonight I write to you hearing the rain fall on the tin roofed building I am in. My time in the Sudan is coming rapidly to a close. There are things ahead that signal that the inevitable is impending. The last class to teach. A special dinner together. Visiting to do. Packing looms on the sidelines as the candle burns at both ends to try and buy time. Here. Now.
I am here now. That is the thought that penetrates all of the leaving. Here and thankful. Glad for this season. Doing my best to live fully in the midst of it. Not wanting to miss a thing of the goodness in this place; the students in the class; the people in the village; the friends on the base. Soon I will fast from all of these things, and so now I am feasting.
The only problem is that I’m not sure how it is possible to live fully in the present without somehow stealing anticipation from the future.
My sister is the greatest anticipator of the future that I have ever met. She is constantly looking ahead, delighting in what is going to unfold. Several times a year, life is like Christmas morning for her as she loses sleep going over and over in her mind the impending wonderful.
Me? I can't remember the last time I lost sleep from wonder. And objectively, looking both back on my life and ahead to what waits, there are a lot of reasons. The Bible also discusses these things with some clarity. Live fully in the present (Psalm 118:24). Anticipate heaven (1 Peter 1:3-5). What God has planned for my future is good (Jeremiah 29:11, Romans 8:28). I am not saying that an emotion of giddiness must accompany thoughts about the future. But I am asking you to consider - when you think about the future, do you let yourself anticipate what God is working out in your life? Do you have a hope for the future that you let yourself feel?
Time has passed and now I am finishing this post in Nairobi. Thankful for the days in Doroji that, by grace, were mostly well lived and well loved. In the last days of my time there, in the whirlwind of goodbyes and moving on, lack of sleep and a floods of both numbness and emotion, something happened. From no understanding of my own, leaving the land of my heart for a calculated choice of will, I felt it: a flicker of excitement for what lies ahead, whatever it is. Surprisingly this butterfly of anticipation did not rob from the present. It was enveloped in the peace of God assuring me that I was exactly where I need to be. Right here. Right now.
I am here now. That is the thought that penetrates all of the leaving. Here and thankful. Glad for this season. Doing my best to live fully in the midst of it. Not wanting to miss a thing of the goodness in this place; the students in the class; the people in the village; the friends on the base. Soon I will fast from all of these things, and so now I am feasting.
The only problem is that I’m not sure how it is possible to live fully in the present without somehow stealing anticipation from the future.
My sister is the greatest anticipator of the future that I have ever met. She is constantly looking ahead, delighting in what is going to unfold. Several times a year, life is like Christmas morning for her as she loses sleep going over and over in her mind the impending wonderful.
Me? I can't remember the last time I lost sleep from wonder. And objectively, looking both back on my life and ahead to what waits, there are a lot of reasons. The Bible also discusses these things with some clarity. Live fully in the present (Psalm 118:24). Anticipate heaven (1 Peter 1:3-5). What God has planned for my future is good (Jeremiah 29:11, Romans 8:28). I am not saying that an emotion of giddiness must accompany thoughts about the future. But I am asking you to consider - when you think about the future, do you let yourself anticipate what God is working out in your life? Do you have a hope for the future that you let yourself feel?
Time has passed and now I am finishing this post in Nairobi. Thankful for the days in Doroji that, by grace, were mostly well lived and well loved. In the last days of my time there, in the whirlwind of goodbyes and moving on, lack of sleep and a floods of both numbness and emotion, something happened. From no understanding of my own, leaving the land of my heart for a calculated choice of will, I felt it: a flicker of excitement for what lies ahead, whatever it is. Surprisingly this butterfly of anticipation did not rob from the present. It was enveloped in the peace of God assuring me that I was exactly where I need to be. Right here. Right now.
Friday 6 August 2010
In Transition
Doroji is a place of change. Every couple of weeks, a plane lands. This plane carries goods and people into our isolated world here, and with each person that arrives, life here changes a little bit. Senses of humour arrive and make us smile more. Encouragers disembark and build us up. Servant-hearted people find their way into nooks and crannies that the rest of us didn’t even think about before. Life steps down off of the steps and reminds us to drink deep of the well that is around us. Every soul that comes brings us something new.
Inevitably, the plane leaves again. It carries with it people whose attributes are dearly missed. The peaceful one who brought calmness with their presence. The organized one who made life smoother for everyone. The joyful ones who are always happy to see you, no matter what kind of day you had and no matter how you are feeling about yourself and the rest of the world. Friendship and kindness fly away to a new place that they need to be for a while. Though many of these people return at sometime, Doroji is transitional enough that it is unlikely that the group that sits here tonight as I write will gather together again in one place again this side of heaven after the next plane has come and gone.
I think this is a parody of life. This week, a figurative plane took off in the passing away of someone that I love. All of his attributes that I could list I will sum up by saying that I was always glad when he was there, and always sorry to see him go. When he was there, our family laughed more, relaxed more, enjoyed more. What I know for sure is that the only way it hurts when someone is gone is because we loved them, and as hard as it is to see that plane fly we are so glad that it landed in the first place.
Literally, my plane will take off from Doroji soon and transition me back to another world. Whatever it is that I have brought here for this season will return with me, and only memories of it will remain. I hope that the flower that I have planted in this place will offer blossoms and fruit long after my plane has landed somewhere new. And though the journey my uncle has taken now is not one he will return from, I am sure that this earth is richer because he walked among us for a while. Goodbye dear Uncle Bob. We will miss you because we loved you.
Inevitably, the plane leaves again. It carries with it people whose attributes are dearly missed. The peaceful one who brought calmness with their presence. The organized one who made life smoother for everyone. The joyful ones who are always happy to see you, no matter what kind of day you had and no matter how you are feeling about yourself and the rest of the world. Friendship and kindness fly away to a new place that they need to be for a while. Though many of these people return at sometime, Doroji is transitional enough that it is unlikely that the group that sits here tonight as I write will gather together again in one place again this side of heaven after the next plane has come and gone.
I think this is a parody of life. This week, a figurative plane took off in the passing away of someone that I love. All of his attributes that I could list I will sum up by saying that I was always glad when he was there, and always sorry to see him go. When he was there, our family laughed more, relaxed more, enjoyed more. What I know for sure is that the only way it hurts when someone is gone is because we loved them, and as hard as it is to see that plane fly we are so glad that it landed in the first place.
Literally, my plane will take off from Doroji soon and transition me back to another world. Whatever it is that I have brought here for this season will return with me, and only memories of it will remain. I hope that the flower that I have planted in this place will offer blossoms and fruit long after my plane has landed somewhere new. And though the journey my uncle has taken now is not one he will return from, I am sure that this earth is richer because he walked among us for a while. Goodbye dear Uncle Bob. We will miss you because we loved you.
Wednesday 14 July 2010
Things that rhyme
Snake protocol says that if you see a snake, you are to keep your eye on it, yell "SNAKE!", and somebody else is to come running with a stick and kill it.
So yesterday, in the middle of rainstorm, one of the missionaries had a night adder in her house (now confirmed to be the same kind of snake I saw on the June 7th post). Our houses are side by side, so I was the only one to hear her yell "SNAKE!". I ran out into the rainstorm towards the dining hall where I knew that 4 others were who I thought would be more adept at snake killing than I am.
"SNAKE!" No response. I ran closer.
"SNAKE!" Again, no response. My tone became more urgent.
"SNAKE! SNAKE! SNAKE!"
Finally they came running out of the dining hall, sticks in hand, and came into the tukl to kill the snake.
So nobody was hurt, the snake was killed, and life went back to normal.
But why the delay? One of the girls explained it to me.
"We thought you were yelling 'CAKE!'"
It's true... We do eat more cake here than we see snakes.
So yesterday, in the middle of rainstorm, one of the missionaries had a night adder in her house (now confirmed to be the same kind of snake I saw on the June 7th post). Our houses are side by side, so I was the only one to hear her yell "SNAKE!". I ran out into the rainstorm towards the dining hall where I knew that 4 others were who I thought would be more adept at snake killing than I am.
"SNAKE!" No response. I ran closer.
"SNAKE!" Again, no response. My tone became more urgent.
"SNAKE! SNAKE! SNAKE!"
Finally they came running out of the dining hall, sticks in hand, and came into the tukl to kill the snake.
So nobody was hurt, the snake was killed, and life went back to normal.
But why the delay? One of the girls explained it to me.
"We thought you were yelling 'CAKE!'"
It's true... We do eat more cake here than we see snakes.
Tuesday 6 July 2010
Off the beaten track
Friday came in perfect timing - right in the middle of needing an adventure. You may think that because I am living in Sudan, that everyday is an adventure. But even the most exotic sounding places in the world become normal life without a little help.
Friday was a village day. Every couple of weeks our class spends one day in the village, monitoring the growth of children under 5 and providing prenatal care. The village half of the students and I were assigned to is not too far away from here, and there is a main road that travels to it. But to my delight, the students led me to the village on trails off the beaten track. It was just what I needed.
We followed a "trail" of single track. This far into the rainy season the grass and maize on both sides of the trail were at times as high as my shoulders, and the shades of green that have come to life over the last few weeks are spectacular. The sky housed a brilliant (and hot) sun in its perfect blue as we trekked over gentle hills and though farmer's fields.
There was some debate as the course was chosen. If they had all have abandoned me I would have been lost; we had zigged and then zagged so many times. Whenever we trekked through questionable territory (like tall grass that made me think snakes would be hard to see), they put me in the middle of the pack - the safest place - and on we went. Through grass and mud and over fences and through valleys; my soul was refreshed.
At our destination we drank the delicious thick coffee with ginger that is standard fare here, and then went on to our work. For hours we listened to the heartbeats of unborn babies and measured the growth of children. Most of the results were encouraging. Then we shared the little water and food we had and made the return trek back to Doroji, with some stops along the way.
I am so glad for days like this... off the beaten track... adventure in the journey and not just in the destination. So much living to do between the cracks of the preplanned events. May each of you be finding your way off the beaten tracks today, and may it be refreshing to your souls!
Friday was a village day. Every couple of weeks our class spends one day in the village, monitoring the growth of children under 5 and providing prenatal care. The village half of the students and I were assigned to is not too far away from here, and there is a main road that travels to it. But to my delight, the students led me to the village on trails off the beaten track. It was just what I needed.
We followed a "trail" of single track. This far into the rainy season the grass and maize on both sides of the trail were at times as high as my shoulders, and the shades of green that have come to life over the last few weeks are spectacular. The sky housed a brilliant (and hot) sun in its perfect blue as we trekked over gentle hills and though farmer's fields.
There was some debate as the course was chosen. If they had all have abandoned me I would have been lost; we had zigged and then zagged so many times. Whenever we trekked through questionable territory (like tall grass that made me think snakes would be hard to see), they put me in the middle of the pack - the safest place - and on we went. Through grass and mud and over fences and through valleys; my soul was refreshed.
At our destination we drank the delicious thick coffee with ginger that is standard fare here, and then went on to our work. For hours we listened to the heartbeats of unborn babies and measured the growth of children. Most of the results were encouraging. Then we shared the little water and food we had and made the return trek back to Doroji, with some stops along the way.
I am so glad for days like this... off the beaten track... adventure in the journey and not just in the destination. So much living to do between the cracks of the preplanned events. May each of you be finding your way off the beaten tracks today, and may it be refreshing to your souls!
Friday 25 June 2010
Hunger
Hunger:
a. A strong desire or need for food.
b. The discomfort, weakness, or pain caused by a prolonged lack of food.
2. A strong desire or craving: a hunger for affection.
v. hun·gered, hun·ger·ing, hun·gers
She is malnourished. Because her body lacks so many nutrients, her feet are swollen with oedema, she has a pot belly, her limbs are skin and bones, and her skin has started to slough off. When we first saw her in the village on Sunday, we thought she had fallen into the fire. Her mother loves and cares for her, and so she sought help to make her baby well. Like many people here, she went to the traditional healer (witchdoctor) for guidance, who advised her to withhold food and drink until her child got better. After a few days of her daughter getting sicker and sicker, this mother and another relative walked 5 hours to our clinic to seek help – a journey that took both courage and endurance. Now, 5 days later, the child has begun to heal. The child’s unsatiated hunger nearly cost her her life.
The dogs here are desperate. One has continued to break into our kitchen, wreaking havoc, breaking into metal trunks and causing destruction. They break holes in through the sticks on the side of the tukl, and when those have been repaired they jump through the window or squeeze and scrape their bodies through the chicken wire and back in through the hole. This week one was caught inside and a man here beat it severely. Several of us woke at 1:30 in the morning to the desperate yelps and growls of an animal defending its life. Though it was not beaten to death, it is impossible that it survived unscathed. But the next night, the dog squeezed itself back into that kitchen to scavenge for more food. Its hunger compells it to return.
Her uterus contracts again, just as it has been since her water broke 3 days ago. Though she has laboured at home stoically since, her first child has yet to be born. When the fever came, her relatives brought her to the clinic. She is exhausted, but still trying to push out this child that will make her a woman in the eyes of her culture. Never has anything had the potential to bring meaning to her life like the delivery of the baby that is inside her. But though her uterus contracts, her cervix does not open; she remains only partially dilated hour after hour, and the situation becomes severe. She will certainly need a caesarean section for the child to survive, and maybe for herself as well. Though the doctor at our clinic has performed over 500 of these operations, the risk for infection is too great with the facilities that are here. Her relatives find a vehicle to take her 6 hours to the closest hospital. Against odds, her child’s heart continues to beat strong. The baby hungers for life.
Hunger. Every day each of us has on earth, hunger will be with us in some form or another whether it is hunger of the body or hunger of the soul. It can seduce us to pain; it can inspire us to fulfillment. Left unsatiated, we will die. Satisfying it in dangerous ways also provoke morbidity and mortality. The good news is that we are created to have the deepest hunger of our beings filled by the Bread of Life who came down from heaven. He is the One whose eye is on even the desperate dogs, and so much more those denied food, those led astray, and those battling for life. Taste and see :)
a. A strong desire or need for food.
b. The discomfort, weakness, or pain caused by a prolonged lack of food.
2. A strong desire or craving: a hunger for affection.
v. hun·gered, hun·ger·ing, hun·gers
She is malnourished. Because her body lacks so many nutrients, her feet are swollen with oedema, she has a pot belly, her limbs are skin and bones, and her skin has started to slough off. When we first saw her in the village on Sunday, we thought she had fallen into the fire. Her mother loves and cares for her, and so she sought help to make her baby well. Like many people here, she went to the traditional healer (witchdoctor) for guidance, who advised her to withhold food and drink until her child got better. After a few days of her daughter getting sicker and sicker, this mother and another relative walked 5 hours to our clinic to seek help – a journey that took both courage and endurance. Now, 5 days later, the child has begun to heal. The child’s unsatiated hunger nearly cost her her life.
The dogs here are desperate. One has continued to break into our kitchen, wreaking havoc, breaking into metal trunks and causing destruction. They break holes in through the sticks on the side of the tukl, and when those have been repaired they jump through the window or squeeze and scrape their bodies through the chicken wire and back in through the hole. This week one was caught inside and a man here beat it severely. Several of us woke at 1:30 in the morning to the desperate yelps and growls of an animal defending its life. Though it was not beaten to death, it is impossible that it survived unscathed. But the next night, the dog squeezed itself back into that kitchen to scavenge for more food. Its hunger compells it to return.
Her uterus contracts again, just as it has been since her water broke 3 days ago. Though she has laboured at home stoically since, her first child has yet to be born. When the fever came, her relatives brought her to the clinic. She is exhausted, but still trying to push out this child that will make her a woman in the eyes of her culture. Never has anything had the potential to bring meaning to her life like the delivery of the baby that is inside her. But though her uterus contracts, her cervix does not open; she remains only partially dilated hour after hour, and the situation becomes severe. She will certainly need a caesarean section for the child to survive, and maybe for herself as well. Though the doctor at our clinic has performed over 500 of these operations, the risk for infection is too great with the facilities that are here. Her relatives find a vehicle to take her 6 hours to the closest hospital. Against odds, her child’s heart continues to beat strong. The baby hungers for life.
Hunger. Every day each of us has on earth, hunger will be with us in some form or another whether it is hunger of the body or hunger of the soul. It can seduce us to pain; it can inspire us to fulfillment. Left unsatiated, we will die. Satisfying it in dangerous ways also provoke morbidity and mortality. The good news is that we are created to have the deepest hunger of our beings filled by the Bread of Life who came down from heaven. He is the One whose eye is on even the desperate dogs, and so much more those denied food, those led astray, and those battling for life. Taste and see :)
Thursday 17 June 2010
The Routine
It's 5:50 am when the alarm rings. I press snooze at least once before putting on my headlamp and untucking the mosquito net. I will need to see the floor very clearly before putting my feet down, and natural light won't light up my tent enough for almost another hour. I put on a skirt and t-shirt, and shake out my socks and shoes before heading outside to the airstrip for a half hour run. Though the air is thick with heat and humidity (it is already about 30C), the 3 runners at this base keep going. But no one is charting any personal bests.
At 6:45 I arrive back at base and have a quick shower. 7am are group devotions, where we each take a turn sharing something from the Bible and praying for one another and the other bases in Sudan. Then it's breakfast - almost always oatmeal with powdered milk, peanut butter, cinnamon, and dried cranberries. I leave for school, a 5 minute walk from here, at about 7:40.
The school day lasts from 8:30 until 3pm officially. Then most days I just hang out at the school and answer questions from the students, and invest time. This is often my favourite part of the day.
Now it's time to think about supper. I'm part of "K-3", which is kitchen 3, where 5 of us cook on a rotating schedule. Making a meal here takes about 3 hours, as we light a charcoal fire and make everything from scratch. This week we've been going crazy here making chinese food, sweet and sour meatballs, stuffed peppers, banana bread, and roasted goat. A plane and a truck arrived this week that have brought the first fresh produce we've seen in a long time.
The evening is filled with clean up, quiet time, another shower, sometimes internet, the occasional games and movie nights. Every evening I sit on the "veranda" of my tent, flossing my teeth, and looking at the sky. I can see both the Big Dipper and the Southern Cross from my vantage point, though the North Star is just out of view. The haze from the humidity makes the stars on the horizon unclear, and I think it's pretty close to the edge. (Davey, let me know - 10 degrees North:))
Then I go into my tent for the night, and close the door with clothespins. The zippers are broken and unfixable here, and securing the flaps closed seems to keep the dogs out. I take one final look around the interior of the tent with my headlamp, looking for critters. Most spiders I let stay - there haven't been any yet that have been too creepy. The couple of lizards that are there are also allowed to stay. Centipedes and scorpions are not. Whack. Then I check my sheets carfully to make sure that I am sleeping alone and crawl into bed, leaving my chacos behind, and tuck my mosquito net in securely. It's somewhere between 10 and 11 and I am so ready for sleep.
That's a typical day for me... Even having a typical day is quite something :) Wherever you are in the world, I hope yours was wonderful, that you saw the simple beautiful things in it, and wondered about the One who made them all...
At 6:45 I arrive back at base and have a quick shower. 7am are group devotions, where we each take a turn sharing something from the Bible and praying for one another and the other bases in Sudan. Then it's breakfast - almost always oatmeal with powdered milk, peanut butter, cinnamon, and dried cranberries. I leave for school, a 5 minute walk from here, at about 7:40.
The school day lasts from 8:30 until 3pm officially. Then most days I just hang out at the school and answer questions from the students, and invest time. This is often my favourite part of the day.
Now it's time to think about supper. I'm part of "K-3", which is kitchen 3, where 5 of us cook on a rotating schedule. Making a meal here takes about 3 hours, as we light a charcoal fire and make everything from scratch. This week we've been going crazy here making chinese food, sweet and sour meatballs, stuffed peppers, banana bread, and roasted goat. A plane and a truck arrived this week that have brought the first fresh produce we've seen in a long time.
The evening is filled with clean up, quiet time, another shower, sometimes internet, the occasional games and movie nights. Every evening I sit on the "veranda" of my tent, flossing my teeth, and looking at the sky. I can see both the Big Dipper and the Southern Cross from my vantage point, though the North Star is just out of view. The haze from the humidity makes the stars on the horizon unclear, and I think it's pretty close to the edge. (Davey, let me know - 10 degrees North:))
Then I go into my tent for the night, and close the door with clothespins. The zippers are broken and unfixable here, and securing the flaps closed seems to keep the dogs out. I take one final look around the interior of the tent with my headlamp, looking for critters. Most spiders I let stay - there haven't been any yet that have been too creepy. The couple of lizards that are there are also allowed to stay. Centipedes and scorpions are not. Whack. Then I check my sheets carfully to make sure that I am sleeping alone and crawl into bed, leaving my chacos behind, and tuck my mosquito net in securely. It's somewhere between 10 and 11 and I am so ready for sleep.
That's a typical day for me... Even having a typical day is quite something :) Wherever you are in the world, I hope yours was wonderful, that you saw the simple beautiful things in it, and wondered about the One who made them all...
Monday 7 June 2010
Reasons to be Thankful
It's been a wonderful week, full of new experiences & opportunities. This list of things that I'm thankful for will give you a few snippets of what this week has looked like.
1 - A chance to spend the weekend out in the village of Gasmala, a 7km walk from here. It was just so nice to be out in the village with the people - hearing a lot of Mabaan, speaking a little Twam'pa with the only Mabaan family that used to live in Bonga, and sharing friendship and time with the Sudanese. We also got to walk out to Thomaji where a new borehole (water source) was officially opened. It was the kind of weekend that gives you a glimpse of how amazing heaven will be, when people from every tongue, tribe, and nation will gather together eternally celebrating what God has done for us. The unity of Christ across cultures that have little surface commonalities is an incredible thing to experience.
2 - Teaching has been really great - the 13 men that I spend my days with, assisting a veteran teacher, are so wanting to learn. Most of them spent 2 hours after class today just hanging out, digging deeper. Learning in another language, about a topic that is beyond any science most have even heard of, and is sometimes in contradiction to their own health practices, is a very difficult thing. All of them have wives and children, yet they live here in communal living with the other students. They push forward and I hope so much that each of them will succeed and become pivots of change in their communities.
3 - This morning I was walking to class, in the middle of a dirt path, my mind going over the day that was about to unfold. Then I heard it - a hiss... Then I saw it - a green snake with black & white markings rear up about 1 foot from my left foot. Instinctively I zagged away from it, and thankfully, so did it. I called for someone to come and kill it and 2 men with sticks came and beat it to death. My students tell me that it was a cobra, and though that is not the official verdict, they are not as rare here as one would think. I am very thankful today for a God who didn't make me have to be the one to try out the snake anti-venom!
There is always more to be thankful for... the day to day of life here; the woman I am learning from as I teach under her; the others who love Sudan on this base and we spend time together processing culture and remembering our own; the simple beauty of this dry land turning neon green... But I will leave the stories here for now. May your days be wonderful today, all over the world! I hope that you are knowing how God is taking care of you just as He is me, and able to delight along the way :)
1 - A chance to spend the weekend out in the village of Gasmala, a 7km walk from here. It was just so nice to be out in the village with the people - hearing a lot of Mabaan, speaking a little Twam'pa with the only Mabaan family that used to live in Bonga, and sharing friendship and time with the Sudanese. We also got to walk out to Thomaji where a new borehole (water source) was officially opened. It was the kind of weekend that gives you a glimpse of how amazing heaven will be, when people from every tongue, tribe, and nation will gather together eternally celebrating what God has done for us. The unity of Christ across cultures that have little surface commonalities is an incredible thing to experience.
2 - Teaching has been really great - the 13 men that I spend my days with, assisting a veteran teacher, are so wanting to learn. Most of them spent 2 hours after class today just hanging out, digging deeper. Learning in another language, about a topic that is beyond any science most have even heard of, and is sometimes in contradiction to their own health practices, is a very difficult thing. All of them have wives and children, yet they live here in communal living with the other students. They push forward and I hope so much that each of them will succeed and become pivots of change in their communities.
3 - This morning I was walking to class, in the middle of a dirt path, my mind going over the day that was about to unfold. Then I heard it - a hiss... Then I saw it - a green snake with black & white markings rear up about 1 foot from my left foot. Instinctively I zagged away from it, and thankfully, so did it. I called for someone to come and kill it and 2 men with sticks came and beat it to death. My students tell me that it was a cobra, and though that is not the official verdict, they are not as rare here as one would think. I am very thankful today for a God who didn't make me have to be the one to try out the snake anti-venom!
There is always more to be thankful for... the day to day of life here; the woman I am learning from as I teach under her; the others who love Sudan on this base and we spend time together processing culture and remembering our own; the simple beauty of this dry land turning neon green... But I will leave the stories here for now. May your days be wonderful today, all over the world! I hope that you are knowing how God is taking care of you just as He is me, and able to delight along the way :)
Tuesday 1 June 2010
More Eyes
If you're interested in life in Doro from other perspectives, click on the links to the right. "Amelia Jane", "Kata", and "The Agnes'" are all here and writing about it. And they even have pictures :) Enjoy!
PS - and now you can link to "Kev" too!:)
PPS - and now "Julie"!
PPPS - and now "The Bracht's" too:) We keep growing here in Doro.
PPPPS - and Sheila
PS - and now you can link to "Kev" too!:)
PPS - and now "Julie"!
PPPS - and now "The Bracht's" too:) We keep growing here in Doro.
PPPPS - and Sheila
Monday 24 May 2010
Today my name is Khawajia
Today my name is Khawajia. In the past I have had other names - Ferenji, Yoo-Enn, Mizungu, and Gringa to name a few. They all mean the same - that I am a stranger in a strange land, an alien, a foreigner.
Today I am so interesting. You stop and stare at me like I am facinating, marveling at my skin and eyes and hair that each have their own colours. I don't know if the contrast of my body to everyone elses is beautiful or strange, but at times I am self-concious about it. Where I come from, to be pointed at and yelled at and laughed at is very rude, and though I know you aren't trying to be mean sometimes I'm still uncomfortable. But I try not to show it.
Today I spent time with you in the village, and I used every word of your language that I know. Sometimes my brain is so confused mixing up the words of every place I've been. It gets tired easily, but I really really want to communicate with you so I try. I am so thankful for your patience with me, it makes me want to know you even more. I don't come from a patient place, and I know that few of my kinsmen would offer you the grace that you have given to me.
Today we weighed your children and your mothers. This small bit of care we can provide is so little compared to what is available in other parts of the world, but it is something. Deep down, I don't know the best way I can help you - how to balance relief and developement with empowerment for you to grow on your own. This is not Khawaja land, it is yours, and so growing is up to you. I don't always know how to help you to do that but I pray often that our work here will help to make your people strong.
Today I know I am weak. I see your women walk with hundreds of pounds on their heads or pump water at the well. The muscles of your arms and legs are defined like ropes just under your skin, and your will to make your body work is much stronger than mine. It is life for you here. I have also heard the stories of what your mind, your heart, and your body have endured in your exile and I hope to never find out if I am as strong as you are. In my country, I am not weak, but in yours I am. That takes some getting used to.
Today I taught English to your men, and sat and watched them learn about community health care. Someday you will be leaders in your communities, and this study will help you to encourage your people long after I am gone. I want you to know how much potential you have, and I want you to keep trying even when it's boring or hard. But in this culture, I don't know how to do this. You are a man and so our relationship is very structured. But I pray that you will know how proud I am to walk with you for a little while and am sure that you will teach me far more than I teach you. You are taking on a big responsibility, and I know you are able. I pray that you will know this too and step out in confidence and competence.
Today I am torn. I love being here with you, and I love so many in my own country too. I know that if I were to stay here forever, or there forever, or somewhere else, that parts of my heart will remain here, and there, and wherever. Because of you, and others like you, I sometimes think I will be a sojourner forever and I can't quite believe that just one place in the world could ever feel like home.
Today I am thankful. I am glad and I am content to be in the midst of this season, for how many days it lasts. It is a perfect gift from the One who knows how to give perfect gifts. I hope that my time here will be well spent, and that I will bloom in this place I have been planted, for too soon I will have to change my name again. But for today, my name is Khawajia.
Today I am so interesting. You stop and stare at me like I am facinating, marveling at my skin and eyes and hair that each have their own colours. I don't know if the contrast of my body to everyone elses is beautiful or strange, but at times I am self-concious about it. Where I come from, to be pointed at and yelled at and laughed at is very rude, and though I know you aren't trying to be mean sometimes I'm still uncomfortable. But I try not to show it.
Today I spent time with you in the village, and I used every word of your language that I know. Sometimes my brain is so confused mixing up the words of every place I've been. It gets tired easily, but I really really want to communicate with you so I try. I am so thankful for your patience with me, it makes me want to know you even more. I don't come from a patient place, and I know that few of my kinsmen would offer you the grace that you have given to me.
Today we weighed your children and your mothers. This small bit of care we can provide is so little compared to what is available in other parts of the world, but it is something. Deep down, I don't know the best way I can help you - how to balance relief and developement with empowerment for you to grow on your own. This is not Khawaja land, it is yours, and so growing is up to you. I don't always know how to help you to do that but I pray often that our work here will help to make your people strong.
Today I know I am weak. I see your women walk with hundreds of pounds on their heads or pump water at the well. The muscles of your arms and legs are defined like ropes just under your skin, and your will to make your body work is much stronger than mine. It is life for you here. I have also heard the stories of what your mind, your heart, and your body have endured in your exile and I hope to never find out if I am as strong as you are. In my country, I am not weak, but in yours I am. That takes some getting used to.
Today I taught English to your men, and sat and watched them learn about community health care. Someday you will be leaders in your communities, and this study will help you to encourage your people long after I am gone. I want you to know how much potential you have, and I want you to keep trying even when it's boring or hard. But in this culture, I don't know how to do this. You are a man and so our relationship is very structured. But I pray that you will know how proud I am to walk with you for a little while and am sure that you will teach me far more than I teach you. You are taking on a big responsibility, and I know you are able. I pray that you will know this too and step out in confidence and competence.
Today I am torn. I love being here with you, and I love so many in my own country too. I know that if I were to stay here forever, or there forever, or somewhere else, that parts of my heart will remain here, and there, and wherever. Because of you, and others like you, I sometimes think I will be a sojourner forever and I can't quite believe that just one place in the world could ever feel like home.
Today I am thankful. I am glad and I am content to be in the midst of this season, for how many days it lasts. It is a perfect gift from the One who knows how to give perfect gifts. I hope that my time here will be well spent, and that I will bloom in this place I have been planted, for too soon I will have to change my name again. But for today, my name is Khawajia.
Monday 17 May 2010
Inviting you to the South Sudan Spa
There’s a lot of hype in the West these days about healthy living. A girl here was looking at magazines from her home country (the UK) and read some articles that got us talking. Virtually everything you need for a healthy lifestyle is here in the South Sudan. Let me tell you why you should head here to Doro to have a fantastic spa experience (minus the pampering).
1. Apparently Lentils are a “new” powerfood. We eat them all the time here.
2. Drinking lots of water is good. We do that here. I’m between 4 & 5 litres these days, and am not over hydrated. See #3 to see why.
3. Hot yoga (exercise done in 40C+ weather and extreme humidity) is pretty fad these days in the West. It is a lifestyle here.
4. Reduce transport via motorized vehicles. Check.
5. Cut back on junk food. Let me tell you, that's easy to do when the closest good chocolate is a 5 hour plane ride away.
6. Get lots of rest. The other night I was sleeping so deeply that I did not hear the dog that came INTO my tent (the zipper is broken) and dragged my garbage (from the corner by my bed) onto the veranda and tore it apart.
7. Have excitement in your life. My scorpion count has tripled - now up to 3! (the second met its demise in the form of my shower bucket). Another escaped. There was also a large spider in the shower tukl last night, and the larger beetles are starting to emerge because rainy season is upon us. Also, a snake was killed right outside of my tent last night. The man who killed it said that a black snake is a bad snake. This one was black. Living with critters is exciting!
8. Oatmeal is apparently also a "new" must eat food - almost every morning here!
9. Eating organic is good, right? Here, everything is very very organic.
10. Mud packs and exfoliation for your skin are side effects of the dusty wind.
11. Vitamin D from the sun is plenty here!
So come on down to the South Sudan Spa! Especially if you are a doctor. Or anything really - we'll find a place for you!
* Idea not completely original - credit given to theagnesfamily.blogspot.com
1. Apparently Lentils are a “new” powerfood. We eat them all the time here.
2. Drinking lots of water is good. We do that here. I’m between 4 & 5 litres these days, and am not over hydrated. See #3 to see why.
3. Hot yoga (exercise done in 40C+ weather and extreme humidity) is pretty fad these days in the West. It is a lifestyle here.
4. Reduce transport via motorized vehicles. Check.
5. Cut back on junk food. Let me tell you, that's easy to do when the closest good chocolate is a 5 hour plane ride away.
6. Get lots of rest. The other night I was sleeping so deeply that I did not hear the dog that came INTO my tent (the zipper is broken) and dragged my garbage (from the corner by my bed) onto the veranda and tore it apart.
7. Have excitement in your life. My scorpion count has tripled - now up to 3! (the second met its demise in the form of my shower bucket). Another escaped. There was also a large spider in the shower tukl last night, and the larger beetles are starting to emerge because rainy season is upon us. Also, a snake was killed right outside of my tent last night. The man who killed it said that a black snake is a bad snake. This one was black. Living with critters is exciting!
8. Oatmeal is apparently also a "new" must eat food - almost every morning here!
9. Eating organic is good, right? Here, everything is very very organic.
10. Mud packs and exfoliation for your skin are side effects of the dusty wind.
11. Vitamin D from the sun is plenty here!
So come on down to the South Sudan Spa! Especially if you are a doctor. Or anything really - we'll find a place for you!
* Idea not completely original - credit given to theagnesfamily.blogspot.com
Saturday 15 May 2010
Impressions
I am in the Sudan now, and will be posting about it soon. But for today, here is a list of observations from time in Nairobi.
My on-again off-again relationship with peanut butter is definitely on again.
Rice made with water that kind of tastes like algae also kind of tastes like algae.
My newly pedicured pretty toes stood out remarkably today as I passed a lady begging on the street. For a moment our feet were freeze-framed together... mine clean and polished; hers... gone. Her one foot was roughly amputated somewhere in the middle of the foot, and not where bones would end naturally. I can’t think of what kind of injury could have caused it. She is one of many people who sit on the street here, with parts of their bodies absent or disfigured, dependent on those who pass by.
There have been bloodthirsty mosquitoes keeping me up at night. As one I was chasing landed on the ceiling and I went to smack it, I noticed the remains of several other mosquitoes that met their end on that ceiling – it’s covered in several streaks of blood mixed with legs. I felt strangely comforted as I realized I was not the only one who had fought such a battle in this place.
It was recent enough (11.5 years ago) that I was in Nairobi the first time. I can remember how I felt the first time I passed through these streets yet I am not her now. It has been so interesting remembering who I was in this place and having her eyes a little bit, but feeling so different about things in the midst of it.
The Sudan news of the day is that I killed my first African scorpion today - in my TENT! Thanks Jodie for your prayer that I would see the wonder in all the critters and not fear - He is hearing you!
Hope you are each having a wonderful May :)
My on-again off-again relationship with peanut butter is definitely on again.
Rice made with water that kind of tastes like algae also kind of tastes like algae.
My newly pedicured pretty toes stood out remarkably today as I passed a lady begging on the street. For a moment our feet were freeze-framed together... mine clean and polished; hers... gone. Her one foot was roughly amputated somewhere in the middle of the foot, and not where bones would end naturally. I can’t think of what kind of injury could have caused it. She is one of many people who sit on the street here, with parts of their bodies absent or disfigured, dependent on those who pass by.
There have been bloodthirsty mosquitoes keeping me up at night. As one I was chasing landed on the ceiling and I went to smack it, I noticed the remains of several other mosquitoes that met their end on that ceiling – it’s covered in several streaks of blood mixed with legs. I felt strangely comforted as I realized I was not the only one who had fought such a battle in this place.
It was recent enough (11.5 years ago) that I was in Nairobi the first time. I can remember how I felt the first time I passed through these streets yet I am not her now. It has been so interesting remembering who I was in this place and having her eyes a little bit, but feeling so different about things in the midst of it.
The Sudan news of the day is that I killed my first African scorpion today - in my TENT! Thanks Jodie for your prayer that I would see the wonder in all the critters and not fear - He is hearing you!
Hope you are each having a wonderful May :)
Sunday 9 May 2010
Buying in Bulk
Because of a general lack of food, intensified by flooding during harvest season last year, we must pack in a significant portion of our food supplies. So yesterday, I did a mother load shopping trip. Want to know what’s on the menu from now until mid-August? Keep reading...
5 – cans of tomatoes
5 – cans of peas
5 – cans of corn
5 – cans of tuna
2 – bags of brown rice
2 – bags of quinoa
2 – pkg. Spagetti
2 – pkg. Fusoli
1kg – Oatmeal
12 – individual pkgs. Oatmeal
1.36kg – milled flax
35 – Clif bars
2 – 1kg bags dried chick peas
1 – large pkg. Brown flour
1 – small pkg. White flour
2 – 400g pkg. Roasted peanuts
1 – 200g pkg. Roasted cashews
1 – 400g pkg. Roasted almonds
3 – 1kg jars peanut butter
2 – 250g pkg. Skim milk powder
1L – high heat milk
1 – 1.36kg dried cranberries
1 – 1kg bag dried blueberries
1 – 1kg dried mangoes
96 – fruit leathers
12 – fruit bars
2 – pkgs. Soy mince (yeah, it looks as great as it sounds...)
1 – 1kg pkg. Beef jerky
12 – individual pkgs. Beef jerky
6 – pkgs. Dried whole eggs
2 – small pkgs. Chocolate chips
1 – large jar of cinnamon, also small pkgs. Of cloves, ginger, allspice, nutmeg, italian spices, rosemary, and black pepper
15 – pkgs. Of spice mixes (thai curry, alfredos, vietnamese lemongrass, butter chicken, tomato herb)
7 – pkgs. Dried coconut milk
5 – pkgs. Soup base
1L – lemon juice
8... 7.5...7 – chocolate bars
1 – pkg. Cocoa cream cookies (from my friend in Egypt :))
5 – pkgs. Electrolyte enhancing jelly beans
Foods that are usually easy to find in the market include potatoes, carrots, garlic, onions, lentils, milk powder, white beans and seasonal fruits & vegetables. However, just last week, half of the market burned down, and we haven’t yet heard which half. So scratch half that list...
I'm thinking that the next few days, weeks, & months will have more to write about than a grocery list. I look forward to sharing with you what, by grace, I will learn in this place.
5 – cans of tomatoes
5 – cans of peas
5 – cans of corn
5 – cans of tuna
2 – bags of brown rice
2 – bags of quinoa
2 – pkg. Spagetti
2 – pkg. Fusoli
1kg – Oatmeal
12 – individual pkgs. Oatmeal
1.36kg – milled flax
35 – Clif bars
2 – 1kg bags dried chick peas
1 – large pkg. Brown flour
1 – small pkg. White flour
2 – 400g pkg. Roasted peanuts
1 – 200g pkg. Roasted cashews
1 – 400g pkg. Roasted almonds
3 – 1kg jars peanut butter
2 – 250g pkg. Skim milk powder
1L – high heat milk
1 – 1.36kg dried cranberries
1 – 1kg bag dried blueberries
1 – 1kg dried mangoes
96 – fruit leathers
12 – fruit bars
2 – pkgs. Soy mince (yeah, it looks as great as it sounds...)
1 – 1kg pkg. Beef jerky
12 – individual pkgs. Beef jerky
6 – pkgs. Dried whole eggs
2 – small pkgs. Chocolate chips
1 – large jar of cinnamon, also small pkgs. Of cloves, ginger, allspice, nutmeg, italian spices, rosemary, and black pepper
15 – pkgs. Of spice mixes (thai curry, alfredos, vietnamese lemongrass, butter chicken, tomato herb)
7 – pkgs. Dried coconut milk
5 – pkgs. Soup base
1L – lemon juice
8... 7.5...7 – chocolate bars
1 – pkg. Cocoa cream cookies (from my friend in Egypt :))
5 – pkgs. Electrolyte enhancing jelly beans
Foods that are usually easy to find in the market include potatoes, carrots, garlic, onions, lentils, milk powder, white beans and seasonal fruits & vegetables. However, just last week, half of the market burned down, and we haven’t yet heard which half. So scratch half that list...
I'm thinking that the next few days, weeks, & months will have more to write about than a grocery list. I look forward to sharing with you what, by grace, I will learn in this place.
Tuesday 4 May 2010
Egypt Blitz
I am in Nairobi, safe & sound... all the luggage has even arrived in tact (except for the luggage locks... somehow they lost their keys en route, but nothing that a hacksaw couldn’t take care of!).
The journey began by leaving in a snowstorm. I am so thankful for my uncle who agreed to drive to the airport even though the forecast was for 25 cms. Travel to Cairo was uneventful with good seatmates and all luggage arriving safely, and my friend was there to meet me.
Egypt was wonderful... if you ever want to travel to an interesting place bursting with hospitality, this is it. What follows is the blitz of those 3.5 days. Keep in mind that though I slept 13 hours my first night there; in total I only slept 19. My conclusion is that Egyptian people must have a special blessing on them for overcoming sleep deprivation.
In 3.5 days we:
* Saw my friend’s church and met many of her friends.
* Saw & explored the pyramids.
* Rode a camel.
* Met new friends from Egypt and the USA.
* Took a river boat ride on the Nile at sunset.
* Toured the Egyptian museum and saw the mummies.
* Ate a turkey dinner with my friend and her family – brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, and spouses – at 1:30 in the morning! They assured me this is normal in Egypt... (Really, Egyptians never sleep...).
* Took the train to Alexandria and ate falafel by the sea, watched the fishermen, toured the world’s largest library, and went to the museum.
* Crossed the street many, many times. Wow – it is an art. Being in the middle of a fast paced busy road with cars whizzing by on both sides is totally normal here.
* Got a pedicure. The esthetician was amazed at the state of my feet post half-marathons and post Alberta winter. My ugly feet and black toes are now transformed! (And it cost me about $4).
* Took the metro several times across town. Cairo is a HUGE city. The entire population of Canada and then some is in one place in Cairo and its surrounding area. Traffic is pretty amazing, though I don’t think it’s quite as nuts as Mumbai.
That’s about it for now... just arrived in Nairobi yesterday and slept 12 hours last night making up for Egypt :). Will head to Sudan on the 11th if things go as planned. Will get some supplies today and just kick & get rested. I hope that each of you are well & will update again when I can!
The journey began by leaving in a snowstorm. I am so thankful for my uncle who agreed to drive to the airport even though the forecast was for 25 cms. Travel to Cairo was uneventful with good seatmates and all luggage arriving safely, and my friend was there to meet me.
Egypt was wonderful... if you ever want to travel to an interesting place bursting with hospitality, this is it. What follows is the blitz of those 3.5 days. Keep in mind that though I slept 13 hours my first night there; in total I only slept 19. My conclusion is that Egyptian people must have a special blessing on them for overcoming sleep deprivation.
In 3.5 days we:
* Saw my friend’s church and met many of her friends.
* Saw & explored the pyramids.
* Rode a camel.
* Met new friends from Egypt and the USA.
* Took a river boat ride on the Nile at sunset.
* Toured the Egyptian museum and saw the mummies.
* Ate a turkey dinner with my friend and her family – brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, and spouses – at 1:30 in the morning! They assured me this is normal in Egypt... (Really, Egyptians never sleep...).
* Took the train to Alexandria and ate falafel by the sea, watched the fishermen, toured the world’s largest library, and went to the museum.
* Crossed the street many, many times. Wow – it is an art. Being in the middle of a fast paced busy road with cars whizzing by on both sides is totally normal here.
* Got a pedicure. The esthetician was amazed at the state of my feet post half-marathons and post Alberta winter. My ugly feet and black toes are now transformed! (And it cost me about $4).
* Took the metro several times across town. Cairo is a HUGE city. The entire population of Canada and then some is in one place in Cairo and its surrounding area. Traffic is pretty amazing, though I don’t think it’s quite as nuts as Mumbai.
That’s about it for now... just arrived in Nairobi yesterday and slept 12 hours last night making up for Egypt :). Will head to Sudan on the 11th if things go as planned. Will get some supplies today and just kick & get rested. I hope that each of you are well & will update again when I can!
Sunday 11 April 2010
Elections - April 11-13
Today, tomorrow, and the next... a revolutionary concept is happening in the Sudan. They are having a presidential election. If you are a prayer, please pray for the country at this time. The next three days are bursting with potential for peace and hope or violence and evil. Millions of people will be affected, many of them having just returned to their country and regions from decades as refugees and IDP's. Please pray that the elected leader of Sudan will have respect for all life, every family, gender, tribe, race, and faith; that they will be a leader of integrity, of justice, and equity. Please pray that the election itself will be held with integrity - that every vote will count, and that everyone will have a chance to do so as an informed citizen and without bribery. For most of us, Sudan is far away and a place we don't think of often. Please make these next 3 days an exception as we stand in the gap for this nation. Thank you for your concern and your prayers.
Thursday 18 February 2010
Deep down, I want to be Sam...
Adventure. What does that word do for you? Do you see a frontier and possibilities, a need for strength; an opportunity for achievement? Maybe it is cause for trepidation and caution... avoidance... fear. For by its very nature, Adventure is unpredictable - it is what it is because outcomes can't be calculated.
*Disclaimer: I really enjoyed the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Now, I am not a scholar on the books, so if what I'm about to write about isn't true to the characters (as deemed by a LTR superfan), then please forgive my ignorance. What follows is simply a casual observation and not in depth character analysis.
Bilbo was an adventure junkie. He was quirky in the first place, and branching out to new worlds and new things was a way he accepted himself and came to understand that his unique personality served a purpose outside the shire. He never stopped relishing past adventures or wishing for new ones. He never forgot that the world holds possibility and opportunity. The threat of loneliness and isolation that are a part of many adventurers did not compare to the delight of living a life like no one before him had done. Adventure met him and he never looked back. He embraced it even though it further separated him from the world and the people he grew up with.
Through circumstances out of his control, Frodo was called to adventure he did not want. He did not want to bear such a burden on his shoulders, yet understood that the consequences were grave if he did not. He sacrificially shouldered a weight that no one could fully appreciate, and was tormented by the task assigned to him in exchange for an epic experience. His life was meaningful and necessary to more than just himself, and its impact so great that it affected the well-being of generations to come all over the world. Upon return, he withdrew from his peers and found it difficult to interact in the merriment that was his culture. The gravity and depth of his journey left scars that never lifted. At a young age he left normal life permanently and joined a community of people that were not his own, but who could somewhat understand and appreciate the life and choices he had been forced to make. After Frodo saved the world, he was never again able to fit in the life he that was once his.
Adventure came to Sam too. His loyalty to his friend had him volunteer as support on his epic journey, helping him bear the weight of his burden. Certainly Frodo would never had made it without Sam. Though Sam walked as many steps, through as many lands, and faced similar hardships along the way, he was not consumed. He wasn't sure if choosing to join the adventure would keep him from all that he dared to dream back at the shire, but he knew and accepted that it might. Yet what he did know on any given day was that he was where he was supposed to be. When Sam returned to the shire, the adventure he was on gave him the appreciation and courage to live fully where he was at, taking nothing for granted. He lived fully in the shire, then fully in the Grey Havens when the next phase of his life came to pass. He had the rare gift of being able to live well in every place, and the adventure he was on in his early life fueled this.
Adventure, in some form, calls each of us. Some seek it; some avoid it; some fear it; some despise it; some believe it justifies their meaning. For some it is their kryptonite, and others their cocaine. How about you - is it your identity or your biggest fear, or are you somewhere in between? Are you happy with who adventure is making you? Do you ever stop to think that all roads unavoidably shape us, no matter what roads they are.
My life has had a lot of opportunity for adventure, of many kinds. I have been accused of being a junkie for it, but that's not how it feels on this side of my skin. It's hard for me to know what my life looks like from a "normal" vantage point (whatever that is). My opportunities are greater. My ties are less obvious. I've moved more than most people (conservatively, 23 times in less than 14 years). I've seen more than most people. I don't know who all of this is making me into, and I don't know that the adventurer always is the only one who decides. As mentioned before, adventure has risks and side effects... not returning the same is one of them. As I pull out onto another road, I'll keep you posted :)
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