Isaiah 58:6-12

Married Life

2011-12-30T21:12:00.007+03:00

“So how’s married life?” That’s the question I hear almost everywhere I go. It really makes me laugh and make me think of all kinds of smart remarks that I really shouldn’t say out loud. I appreciate the intentions of the askers, just the frequency and phrasing of the question entertains me. How do I answer that?

The answer is that life is life. Married or not married, there are joys and challenges, hardships and happiness. In contrast to how I used to view marriage as a teenager, it hasn’t been this great earth-shattering , revolutionizing change of all things in life. I mean, it is a change, but not quite as dramatic a change as I expected. It’s been more subtle. It’s more like the change of the seasons from summer to fall. I don’t remember the exact day the seasons changed. I just remember one day looking around me and feeling a crisp coolness to the air, brightly colored leaves, and the sun disappearing sooner and I realized it was fall.

Marriage has been a process. It didn’t start or end on the wedding day. It started the day we met. From the first day we stayed up late discussing the history of Uganda to the beautiful day we said our wedding vows in front of all our family and friends, right up to this week’s Scrabble games and long walks, it’s been it’s been a journey, not a destination. It wasn’t like when we were “finally married” we had somehow “arrived”. It just meant we continued on our journey together. We will continue learning together until the day we finally go to our true home with our Father.

Our wedding was beautiful. I will always remember it as the most beautiful day of my life. The love and support of so many friends and family, the colors, the whole week leading up to it as friend after friend arrived in, it was a beautiful time. Afterwards, I was happy to have all over with though (all the work and planning and so on…the visitors on the other hand I wish could have stayed forever! Ivan and I want to have a wedding every six months just so we can visit with so many dear people again).

We celebrated Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those were the big three I’ve longed to celebrate in the U.S. again. It was a joy to be back with friends and family again. It was comforting to be back and fun to show Ivan “how we do things here,” only to find I miss “how we did things there” too. We miss Africa terribly.

I used to hear stories about how the “first year of marriage is the hardest” and “after the honeymoon phase is over” and so on. Honestly, the hardest parts of marriage thus far haven’t been learning to live with each other or learning to be married, it’s been learning to survive in the U.S. We can happily and harmoniously live together well. That’s no problem. But dealing with job searches, visa processes, momentous life decisions, family conflicts, culture shock, and learning to be responsible adults is enough to add stress into anyone’s life. Maybe that’s one goal of marriage though: learning to build a safe haven and refuge, one place to be safe from all the craziness of the outside world, where each person can be strengthened and encouraged to face the challenges.

I love the rocks and hills around Chatsworth. They are turning green now from all the rain. I realized that life is so similar to my hiking adventures. When I’m scrambling up and down rocky faces, I never can see the end of the trail I use, if it’s all a dead end, or if it leads somewhere. The only way to tell is to pick a trail, walk it till I can’t go anymore, and see where it ends up. If it’s a dead end, then I try over again. Usually though, one little trail leads into another and leads into another and before I know it I’ve reached somewhere. I just can never tell exactly where I’m going on how I’m getting there along the way. But when I finally arrive, the view is so worthwhile.

God has been providing for us. It’s been amazing. It’s always just enough, not more, not less, and I have to humbly learn dependence and trust the same way I always have had to learn. He is opening doors and creating trails where it looks impossible to keep going. I just can’t see how all things will work out or where all this will lead, but God knows. Tomorrow is in His hands. I never know what to expect, but He is good. That is my hope and my strength. In all parts of life, marriage or singleness, hardships or joys, God “works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose”.

T.I.A. (This is America)

2011-09-16T05:48:00.003+03:00

I am sitting at the dining room table at my dad's house right now. I just finished cooking pilau and katchumbare (Kenyan spiced rice and meat with salsa on top). They wanted a good African meal and that was the easiest one I could do without having my stockpile of spices with me. Those are all at my mom's house. That seems to be how a lot of my life is right now...partly at my mom's house and partly at my dad's house. I'm back to life as a nomad and being in permanent transition.

Ivan has been adjusting well. As with everybody, he has his "good America days" and his "bad America days". It will take time for him to get through his culture shock and really adjust.

Ivan has worked with Americans for nearly four years. He's lived with them, worked with them and spent countless hours hearing their incessant talk about life at home (especially about food). Yet none of that completely prepared him for life in America. Some stories he heard about really are just as good as people proclaimed (In N Out and free soda refills, for example). Others he has discovered were tall tales and exaggerations (on the drive home from the airport he excitedly yelled out "litter! There is litter in America!" and later on he found a pothole...hence crashing forever all the stories he's heard about how "in America" there is no litter or potholes.

Ivan gives an interesting perspective on U.S. life. It gives me a chance to reexamine my culture through fresh eyes. I never noticed how things here are "too" organized or "too" regulated. Ivan's first walk around outside, I told him about crosswalks and pushing the button to cross, and he looked at me in disbelief "you mean I have to ask permission to cross the street?"

We've both had a lot to adjust to. We've gone from living in houses full of other people back into quiet family homes with just a few people. Even out on the streets and in the neighborhoods, it's very empty and too quiet. We just don't see other people out and walking around. Food is different. The weather is different. Everything is just different. Even in places I was familiar with before, things change. Businesses come and go. People move, get married, or change careers. It's a very different situation than I am used to and will take time to get really accustomed again.

So, on top of adjusting and reuniting with family and friends, we've also been planning a wedding and trying to figure out our future. Thank God, we have found part time jobs teaching traffic safety in schools around L.A. This really helps us out a lot. We've also been doing odd jobs around to bring in a bit of money. Thank God, He provided us with a car so we are able to travel around to see people. Having parents in to seperate cities about an hour and a half away means life is kinda split between different cities too. Now we are just praying that God shows us what to do after we are married. We need to find a place to live and ways to support ourselves.

Inevitably, people always ask us the same questions: "How long are you here for?" "What are you going to do while you're here?" What are you going to do when you go back?" Those are all difficult questions to answer cause we don't really know for sure. We know it will be about three years before Ivan can apply for citizenship so we will be around for about three years. We need to work and save money and adjust to married life for at least the first couple of years. When we go back to Africa? We have lots of ideas for ministry opportunities in Ivan's village but it will take time to really set the foundations for it. I would like to do more school so I can eventually teach anthropology at a university level in Uganda, but school will have to wait a year or two while we get settled.

People keep asking me if I miss Africa. It's a fair question. Usually whenever I come back by the next day I miss it again. This time it's a little different though. I genuinely miss some things (like the food, the markets, seeing people around, things I'm used to, etc) but I know I need to be here now. Honestly I've been so swamped with the details of the past few weeks that I haven't had time to miss a lot. It will come, but first I have to survive right now, and that takes enough energy.

It's not an easy season, but then again, what season ever is? I realized that in life, usually whenever seasons change, you are only trading in one set of challenges for another. It's nice to trade in the challenges of running EAC Kenya and the challenges of life in Africa...but then I have to deal with the challenges of learning to be an adult in America and the challenges of life in America. It's a different context, but as much as ever, I need to continue to persevere and trust that God knows what He's doing and will provide.

Letter of Appreciation

2011-08-12T20:32:00.003+03:00

12/08/2011
My name is Mohammed. I am in class eight. I am sixteen years old. My hobbies are as follows: playing football, reading storybooks and swimming. My father died before I was born and my mother died in 2004 when I was nine years old. Since then I have been staying with my grandmother. Life was good to me when my grandmother took me to school. I started engaging into a bad company. We use to smoke bhang and stole people’s property at night and daytime. It was a very dangerous life.

Sometimes we were beaten by mob justice, sometimes we were caught by police officers and taken to court, sometimes we were taken to hospital because of injuries or illness. What a life I had been living. Since I came to this rehabilitation school I have become a changed and responsible person. Ooh! I forgot to tell you what I would like to be when I grow up. In my future I always dream of becoming an author. I would like to be an author because when I read books they encouraged me and give me hope. I once had been reading a book written by an author known as John Kiriamiti entitled “my life in crime”.

It talks about a man who started pick-pocketing and engage in big crimes like carbreaking, robbery with violence and at last bank robbery. However he was arrested and sentenced to prison for 27 years. That book really touched my heart and it encouraged me a lot. That is the reason I wanted to be an author. Thank you Martin together with your organization “Empower the Child” which you come with every Wednesday. I really appreciate your crew and well pleased for the work you are doing to this young generation. “May God bless you.” Once you have told me in your English lesson every evening on Wednesday and write it on my book that I am the best student in your class.

I really felt happy and good that day since you gave me hope and determination in my life. Since you started coming every Wednesday and told us about God loving us and protecting us, I felt so touched by your teachings and class lessons in the evening. Guess what? I think an angel has been sent to me by God, and Martin to tell you the truth I think you are the one. I will never forget your motto “Your life is in your hands”. You are the best teacher I have ever seen. You keep reminding me of my mother who always use to gave me importance and good advices on how to live a good and prosperous life. I again say a big thank you to you and this organization together with the whole of its crew for the work you are doing in this world. May God bless the work of your hands and have a good holiday. Wish you all the best for you and pray to me for my KCPE examination.

Yours affectionately,

Mohammed alias Mr. Bean.
Keep the good work. Forever yours.

VBS in Kibera

2011-08-08T18:35:00.002+03:00

We finished our most challenging week of VBS. This was the week that had the largest and most unpredictable numbers as well as the largest age range of children.

When we were planning for VBS at the primary school in Kibera, we assumed we would have our 115 school kids come every day-aged preschool through seventh grade. We planned everything accordingly.

When we arrived our first morning, we wondered if we would even hit 75 at first. The classroom was sparcely populated with around thirty kids. We sent a few kids to tell some of their classmates that we would start soon and they should come. Kids started trickling in. Some came carrying little brothers and sisters who we hadn’t met before. Since schools were closed and it was time for the holidays, they were responsible for looking after the younger ones.

We started our program with the kids. The school, situated deep in a valley in Kibera, could be seen from far away on the ridge where the train tracks run. Not only so, but the sound of the kids yelling and singing also carried. Soon kids in the neighborhood and from other areas came by out of curiosity to see what was going on. Some shyly stood outside, watching from windows and doors, running away as soon as a staff member saw them, only to creep back to see what was going on. We started inviting those ones in too. By the time we separated into classes, we had well over a hundred kids.

Lunch was the one part of the day that was really sensitive to time and numbers. Kids in the neighborhood who didn’t want to attend Bible lessons were very ready to attend lunch time so we had to come up with a system to make sure all our kids ate first. We cooked the food to feed the kids who were there to learn, not just every hungry kid in Kibera (cause that could be thousands and thousands of little hungry kids). To remedy this problem, I walked from classroom to classroom, counting kids, and marking their hands to show they attended class. After they were served food, they were marked again so they couldn’t keep circulating the line.

It worked well, but having planned to feed 115 kids plus our team of 15, we ran out of food after feeding the 140 kids that showed up. The teachers, watchmen, and our team had to scramble to buy food from out to make up the difference.

We all debated our dilemma in our debrief after we had finished our program and the workshops.

“Do we send away the kids that aren’t of the school or add more food or what?” we debated. Our conclusion: “Let them all come. That is why we are here. We will add money to the budget for food and pray that God doesn’t send us more kids than we can bear.”

The next day, when we arrived in the morning, we started off with over a hundred kids in the morning. They had multiplied, but only the little ones. We had doubled our number of preschool through second graders while the older kids remained the same. We even obtained a high number of pre-preschool kids, tiny kids who were carried on their sister’s backs or held on brother’s laps or came toddling around the school.

One baby, maybe two years old, brought herself there. We don’t know from where or where she ended up. When asked who brought her, she said nothing. When asked where she came from, she still said nothing. During game time, she obstinately followed Beth around as her little shadow while Beth tried to give directions. If Beth walked to the middle, so did the baby. If Beth walked out, so did the baby, and she would grab Beth’s leg and look up expectantly. Later in the day, Shelby picked her up, only to discover she had peed on the floor and so also dampened Shelby’s shirt. Shelby decided to carry a plastic bag with her the next day and use it to pick up kids, just in case.

A few other neighborhood kids arrived with baby babies. Both “guardians” were in either first or second grade and they came carrying six month old babies who happily slept on the floor during class time and rode on their sisters’ backs during games.

One baby was kidnapped by the team. The little boy was so malnourished he immediately broke our hearts. The bones in his body stood out too much and he was too tiny. Beth kidnapped him and held him during class time, feeding him bananas and rice, which he devoured. We tried to get his sister to bring their mother the next day so we could find out what the family situation was, but they never came back.

Victor had bought two more kilograms of rice than the previous day…two kilograms is about what it would take to feed thirty more people than the previous day. It came to serving food. I prayed, “God, like the loaves and the fishes, make this food be enough!” and then got down to checking numbers and marks and making sure our kids got fed first. We had 190 kids, not including the neighborhood kids who didn’t come to class and just showed for food.

The kids all lined up by classes and we had to really struggle to keep order. We served plate after plate. At some point, we looked up and realized we had finished feeding all our kids, our team, the teachers, the watchman, and we still had half a pot of rice left. It didn’t make any sense. We kept feeding kids…this time we let the neighborhood kids come and get a share and we let some of our little ones get seconds…the rice just kept going. It got to the point where we realized we needed to serve larger portions so we could finally finish lunch and get onto workshops.
“God heard your prayer,” Victor said during our meeting later. That food shouldn’t have fed that many kids.

The rest of the week, food was enough. By God’s grace, even as the kids increased, we managed to feed them all. Our last day, day four, we had around 250 kids, but everyone still ate. The kitchen team did an amazing job cooking over firewood and feeding those masses.

Our next challenge was in managing our increased number of little people. On day two, out of 190 kids, only 60 kids were 3rd-7th grade. The other 130 were all 3rd grade and below. Emma’s class of preschool and pre-preschool kids alone had 80 kids…80 kids with three teachers…only one of whom spoke Swahili. Their small attention spans only compounded the situation. By the time lunch was finally ready, they were running crazy, peeing on the floor, ninja kicking each other’s heads from desks, etc. We realized we had to do something and fast.

The next day, we split the kids differently so all 60 of the 3rd-7th grade kids were together, leaving 50 little ones in all the other classes…it was good we split or else Emma would have had 100 tiny kids in her classroom. This setup worked much better throughout the week. The little ones were so excited to color and be loved on. During our workshops in the afternoon, all the little ones came into our class to do beads and that made them sit quietly for a whole hour, their hands very busy putting beads on strings. If they finished bracelets, they had to bring them to us so we could admire how good of a job they did and then their faces would just glow.

Our workshops all went well: drama, games, science, and art. Science was by far the coolest workshop. They built volcanoes and exploded them, made blue goo and paper airplanes. The kids all came out of that class saying “I love science!” and showing all their creations.

Our last day of VBS ended with every kid getting a gift. Beth did a big fundraiser before she came where people made bears, monkeys and elephants for her to bring. She brought around 150 stuffed animals. We gave out a bunch to the children of the children’s home where we make chapati one week. The rest we saved for the school in Kibera. All the little kids got their own stuffed animal and they were very excited.

When we finished VBS, we were tired. Seriously tired, but in a good way. God never gave us more kids than we could bear and we were able to reach out to so many more kids than we had originally planned on. We were truly blessed.

VBS with the Street Boys

2011-08-02T22:09:00.002+03:00

I could hear the shouts and songs from down the street. The boys were yelling so loud that all the shopkeepers around must have heard that something was going on at the center for street boys this week. After my errands in the morning, I came as soon as I could to help wherever I was needed. It was a good sign that I wasn’t really needed. Besides my spiritual gift of chopping tomatoes, the morning I had to step in for Martin’s small group in his absence, and helping come up with silly theater games for the drama workshop, I really had no other responsibilities. That’s a huge contrast from last year’s crazy two weeks of VBS where I was overworked, overstretched, and had yet learn to delegate. This year, the team had VBS planned, delegated, organized, and running like a machine. It was just another sign that they are ready to take over now.

I haven’t spent much time with the street boys the past few months. Organizing the sponsorship office and running ministry errands has taken up most of the time I would have spent with the boys there. I truly learned to love them this week though. Those dear, crazy, messy children.

We had about thirty boys at the streetboys’ center during the week. The week before we had fifteen. It was like God decided we needed to minister to more street boys this week and He doubled the number just before we started VBS. We gladly accepted them. Our boys ranged from these tiny little boys who looked barely over six years old all the way up to near men, aged 16, 18, even 20.

We recognized a few of them. They had been to the center before. One boy, who we called “the fluffy kid” (because he was a little meatier than the rest) had run back to the streets and then got returned to the center. Another boy had returned to his village way up in the north of Kenya. Then he decided he would be better off at the street boys’ center and willingly returned. That’s unusual. Most of the boys run from that place first chance they get. I don’t blame them.

A few times we’ve run into the runaways in town. They were back on the streets begging again. They knew us though. They ran up to us very excited, “teacher, teacher, do you remember me?” they asked. It’s sad to see them back on the streets.

These kids aren’t “normal” kids. Almost all of them are seasoned veterans of the streets. They are not innocent children who need to be taken care of. They are survivors who know how to look out for themselves. A guard one day almost lost his wallet to one of the really tiny ones. He looked innocent, but he knew how to pickpocket and he was small enough to be really sly at it.

Then there were the boys who didn’t look a day over eight years old telling us the benefits of being high.

“The bhang (marijuana) you buy for 50 bob (about 50 cents) is enough to make you so high you can walk across the street without even fearing cars hitting you. You can fight and not fear getting punched,” one boy said in Swahili. Emma finally got him to admit he was high that day as well. He was barely four feet tall in a huge purple shirt.

I see a lot of the streetboys around Nairobi sniffing glue. They can be seen passed out on top of trash piles, clutching a bottle of yellow glue, or seen tottering with uneasy steps and sniffing it.

I asked one of the older boys why he came to Nairobi. He was a handsome boy with good English and he intently listened during messages. “I left my village because I liked sniffing glue and in my village they didn’t like that, so I came to Nairobi,” he told me. I guess in Nairobi it’s ok. His eyes were clear and bright now and he seemed sober enough. “I want to be an engineer when I grow up,” he said.

The boys were grubby as usual. A few changed their clothes once or twice throughout the week. That was nice to see. Once they were very clean and had shoes. Someone had come and donated them. The next day, the littlest ones still had shoes, but all the others didn’t. It was anyone’s guess what had happened to them. Either the boys had sold them or the “guardians” of the facility had stolen them from the boys to sell them. Maybe next month more will be donated. It will be the same story again. It’s been nice to see that some of the clothes we donated at Christmas time are still around. The kids come and go a lot but some have been around that long.

When the city council brought the new batch of 15 boys to the center, they first circumcised all of them. The government has been pushing hard for circumcision since it tends to lower men’s rates of catching STDs. It was pretty entertaining to see the boys walking funny and disappearing behind the kitchen from time to time to disinfect themselves. The day we played football we were told not to have all the boys play cause they were “still healing” and they didn’t want them to “bleed again”. The boys didn’t care. Try getting boys to refrain from a football match. Near impossible, even when newly circumcised.

Each day we taught our theme “The Promises of God”. The MSTs came up with our own theme song on how “God is my helper”, “God is my Guide,” “God is my Warrior”, “God is my Forgiver”. Each day different team members gave testimonies on their particular promise of God, followed by small group discussions in each corner of the room. A team member shares their testimony every day focusing on a particular theme and them the kids are split into groups or classes to discuss the theme in questions. It’s been working pretty well. The kids are able to really relate with the testimonies in various ways and it’s different than our past few months’ methods of teaching using skits and puppet shows.

During small group discussions we were able to find out a lot about the boys. One day the discussion question was “tell about a time you were forsaken”. One boy told about how his father took him to town and said he was going to buy him chips (French fries). His father never came back and the little guy was left to fend for himself. Another told how his parents left him, his aunt rejected him, and so he ended up on the streets.

Then there was the tall Maasai boy. Everyone just calls him “Maasai.” That’s the funny thing with the Maasai. They are the only tribe I know where people call them by their tribe. No one walks around calling someone “Kikuyu” or “Luo”, but I have met at least three boys/men who everyone calls “Maasai” to the extent that I don’t even know their real names. Anyhow, this boy seemed a little different from the others. He was helpful, kind, and very sober. When I asked him why he came, he told about the “war at home”. He is more of a refugee than a street boy. The various tribes in his home in Samburu went to war with each other over cattle and he fled to Nairobi three months ago.

Then there are the other boys…nothing really happened to them. They came from good families which were well off. They weren’t rejected or chased away. They weren’t struggling for money at home. They just woke up one day and decided to run away. Emma thinks it’s some kind of spirit that makes them wake up and just run like that. Other boys ran away from home because their families didn’t like the lives they were getting themselves into. Their desire for autonomy, drug use, money, etc. brought them to the streets where they can live as they please and do as they please. Those ones are quite the characters.

It’s a different dynamic working with the various kinds of boys. There are the boys who are stubborn and don’t want to listen to anything (or are too high to pick up much) and then there are the boys who intently listen and soak up every word we say. With those, you can see an impact being made.

The boys loved the week. They made beaded lizards, paper airplanes, and played theater games. The last day, we crowned the week with an epic football game against our team, in which they dominated. While they outnumbered us slightly, we were still bigger and had spiffy jerseys that the girls made. They managed to beat us without shoes and being half our sizes and many being newly circumcised…they are just that good.

They really liked the food. That’s an understatement. Since it’s a government institution, sometimes the boys go with one meal a day, sometimes two, sometimes three, they never know. (You can also never tell if they miss on food because the city council forgot them or if their caretakers “ate” the money/supplies.) This particular week, the cook was very glad to have us because the city council never brought them firewood. Since we cooked lunch, we had a balance of firewood left over that the cook could use for dinner. At least the boys ate well that week.

It is no small feat to feed street boys. Those kids can eat! Even the tiny ones can demolish a heaping plate, three times more than I could eat, and still ask for seconds. I’m pretty sure their stomachs are bottomless pits. One boy waited till we left to run away. He had been sick all week but said the food we were giving him was making him well. I guess he must have really gotten well because he disappeared the next day.

Our last day with the boys, we shared the gospel. Someone asked me this week what our long term goals are with the street boys. I didn’t know what to answer at the time. I tend to be bad at long term goals in general, but especially here. What can be done? What can be done to correct a rotten system and a sinful world? Thinking about it now, I realized that the message we shared on the last day is our long term goal with the boys. Maybe one or two lives will change or seeds will be planted. If one boy is genuinely changed, we have succeeded. If not, at least we have tried. We came, we loved them and we will keep coming and loving them. We will keep doing what we can do, keep praying for the boys and for the administration, and pray that God opens doors for us to do more.

We had to say goodbye to the boys. “When are you coming back?” a boy asked Beth.

“I don’t know. I’m going back to Canada this month,” she said. Then the boy broke down in tears. Imagine a big, tough 16 year old boy in tears.

“God bless you all so much for coming,” he said, as he rubbed his eyes. By that, we know, some kind of impact was made. At least to that one, he listened.

Transitions

2011-07-26T18:40:00.000+03:00

Our new ministry computer is up and running. I started the process of transferring documents from my computer to the new ministry computer. There is still a lot more to sort, mainly sponsorship documents, but at least my computer can retire and the new computer can take over in its stead.

Tara Skarin, the former Kenya team leader, is also in the process of retiring. I have been stepping down more and more from my responsibilities and letting Nancy and Martin take over.

The team went to Kirinyaga and have a fully successful mission week with the 100 or so children at the orphanage there. The team brought our VBS program to the children, teaching the promises of God, and doing various workshops, games and crafts with the kids. The kids learned how to make beaded lizards, baking soda/vinegar volcanoes, slime, and finger painting. Evenings were filled with campfires, talent shows, songs, and roasting marshmallows. The MSTs learned to fetch water from the river, bathe in a bucket, and how to live on githare (beans and maize…or in this case, a whole lot of boiled maize and a few beans). They held baby bunnies and caught baby hedgehogs. At the end of the week, both MSTs and children said their goodbyes in tears.

It was the first big event planned and executed entirely by the team. If they can manage five days in the village with a hundred kids, organizing transport, food, and the program, they are ready to take over the ministry.

They brought home a whole bag of red, ripe apple mangoes. They were sweet and wonderful. The MSTs spent the weekend at Martin’s family home in the village, getting a taste of village life, and they came home with lots of stories of the cows, goats, and the macadamia nut tree.

In the meantime, Ivan came to Nairobi to work on visa stuff and wedding plans. It took the whole week to do the medical appointments, gather the paperwork, and look up all the information on the internet necessary. He had his interview with the U.S. consulate on the 20th. The months of work, paperwork, research, and waiting culminated in a three minute interview and an easy granting of his visa.

He’s still in Nairobi up till now, but not by choice. The embassy kidnapped his passport while they process his visa. It’s a week long process and Ivan is more than ready to run back to Uganda to make his preparations to come to the U.S. for an indefinite period of time.

We bought our plane tickets to come to the states. August 15th I will travel to Uganda and then August 20th Ivan and I will depart from Uganda and start an entirely new season of life. While it’s exciting and we are looking forward to it, it’s never easy to leave home. Ivan has spent his entire life in a ten mile radius in Kampala. I’ve spent the past three years living in Africa. It’s always a challenge to start something new.

We praise God for the support of our family and friends. God has provided us with the visa, the plane tickets, and we even bought a car from an old friend of ours. Things are coming together and that is a wonderful blessing. We know that God will continue to guide our path into His plans for us.

There is a lot to do to prepare to leave. Figuring out how to condense three years worth of books, clothes, and supplies into two suitcases will be a feat in itself. So will getting the sponsorship program department trained in the next three weeks. Then there is saying goodbye to my dear friends here. That is the hardest of all.

It’s starting to thunder and lightning and threatens to storm outside. It poured yesterday, forcing Ivan and I to stay at Java House and drink hot chocolate until it lessened enough to walk home in. The monkeys hide when it rains. I fell in a mud puddle and walked through mud that suction-cupped my shoes and threatened to steal my sandals from my feet. Even in the rain, the lady on the corner was still roasting maize under her umbrella and selling it to passersby. She had my respect.

The whole team is spending the night tonight. We are going to take some time to pray for our upcoming week of VBS with the street boys. I love our worship nights as a team. They are always a beautiful time of connecting with God as a team, not to mention all the fun we have hanging out after our time of prayer.

We had our last regular week of ministry this week. We played football with the street boys and tied them, a first ever victory for our little EAC team. We helped the juvenile boys’ teachers correct their end of term exams. We made porridge for the kids at the primary school and closed their term with a teaching from the story of Elisha. Saturday, we made 133 chapati at the children’s home and warned the administration that we can’t make any more chapati until September.

The end of August will see the four Floridians leave. Beth will leave. I will leave. The beginning of September, Athena leaves too. She’s been with us a year…almost as long as I’ve been with the Kenyan team and just as important a part of a team. It will be quite the month of transition.

Until I leave, my goal is to continue to love every day I am blessed to be here and make the most of every opportunity. I guess that should be my goal no matter where I am though…no matter what country. So, here’s to a life well lived and making every day a great one to the glory of God! I guess that’s what really makes life worth living no matter the circumstances, location, or context.

VBS Preparations

2011-07-10T19:30:00.003+03:00

We spent days preparing for VBS. I went through Toi market and bought old bedsheets to make our banner. I spent all of Monday carefully sketching, cutting, tracing and gluing all the letters. After finishing Tangled, Prince of Persia, Mean Girls, and Fireproof, I finally finished all the banners. There is polkadot letters on a black background read “Promises of God” and “God is my Warrior”, “God is my Help,” “God is my Forgiver” and “God is my Giude”. I was supposed to write “Guide” but no, I wrote “giude” and the next day had to shamefacedly cut and patch fragments of fabric together to correct my mistake. Apparently I can’t spell any more once the clock strikes midnight.

Yesterday the whole team worked in preparations for VBS. One team went to town to buy all the beads, paint, string and craft supplies necessary for our crafts with the kids. Another team bought flour, borax, bottles, etc. for their science experiments workshop (they are making lava lamps, volcanoes, slime and kites). Another team bought all the candy and toys to give away to the kids to make them feel special. The final team worked at the house carefully writing out each day’s memory verses four times on posters for each day’s four classes. We started at 10am and didn’t finish until midnight. We thought the stencils would make it go faster. It didn’t. One side of each poster had the English version of the verse. The other side had the Swahili version, just so kids can memorize it in whatever language will be easiest for them. While the first few posters were truly works of art, the later ones got simpler and simpler as the art team got more and more worn out.

Our first run of this year’s VBS program is going to be in the village of Kirinyaga with the 100 kids at an orphanage there. The team is going to be camping out in the village with the kids doing the VBS teachings in the morning, workshops (crafts, sports, science and drama) in the afternoon, and campfires and talent shows in the evenings. They are very excited for their adventure in the village and to get to spend time with all the sweet kids at the orphanage.

Our second week of VBS will be with the street boys we visit every week. The third week will be with the kids from the primary school in the slum and the fourth and final week will be with the juvenile boys. It will be a long and tiring few weeks but also wonderful as we get to really invest in and spend time with these precious children. It makes an impression on them. The juvenile boys still remember last year’s VBS theme and it turns up every now and then in their pictures they have made during reading program. That’s the whole goal…to make it a week they will remember all their lives.

While the team goes to the mission this week, I am in charge of “guarding” the house. Originally I was staying back so that someone would be around the house to housesit. Yet it worked out that Ivan has to come to Nairobi for his medical examination and visa interview and it conveniently has worked out that we can spend the week working on wedding/visa stuff while the team is away. It will be nice to have a break from EAC work to work on other things for awhile.

We had our last week of reading program at the juvenile home this week. With VBS coming up and then my up and coming departure from Africa soon afterwards, I realized it was our last day. We finished Prince Caspian and then spent the whole morning watching the movie. It was a great ending. I’m so thankful to have had the chance to spend time with the boys during the reading program this year. Seeing them so excited about the stories and seeing their drawings has really been a blessing to me and helped us get to know some of the boys better.

We have started a new program at the primary school in the slum. On Thursdays we split the team in half and while one team went to do evangelism in the slum and then to teach the street boys, the other team went to the primary school to teach the kids the entire day. First we were blessed by a donation to make the kids’ porridge every week. The kids were more than happy this week when we came and cooked them porridge. Then we taught the kids English in the morning followed by teaching Christian Religious Education (CRE) in the afternoon. The school is an informal school and is often lacking teachers. I spent the day with the fifth graders and Jane realized that they are only on their second lesson of CRE. They have been in school this year since January and have only had two lessons in a subject that they will be tested on in the mandatory government exams in future. This week we taught the kids the Ten Commandments (and contrary to popular belief, “love thy neighbor as yourself” is not one of them!)

An old friend from our 2004 AIM team came into Kenya last night. Lauren, her husband, and adorable three year old son are here to work with a ministry in Kitale for two weeks to help out with their tech/video stuff. They came to Nairobi for a few days before heading to Kitale, giving us a very full and happy household. It makes me happy that I’ve been blessed to see so many old AIM team friends this year.

Please keep the team in prayer as they go on mission this week. Pray for everyone’s health! We keep having people with stomach upsets that won’t go away. Also pray for upcoming VBS for it to be impactful and relevant for these kids’ lives.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Milkshakes

2011-06-27T10:09:00.002+03:00

The rain finally started coming down cats and dogs. It had been developing an increasingly dismal forecast on my bus ride home from town. The sky turned dark gray and the clouds started grumbling and flashing. The four new MSTs from Florida saw the dark clouds growing but decided they still wanted to go out for frozen yogurt. We’ll see how wet they are when they come home. Just a few minutes after they left the torrents began.

The rest of us are at home, warm and dry, though sadly the internet just went out. The power was out all day (of course…the day that I set aside to “get stuff done”) and oh how I rejoiced when power came back! Then the internet went out. At least the power is on and we can sit in the nicely lit living room and watch movies and ….just kidding…the last strike of lightning just took out the power too. We’ll see how long my computer battery lasts. I need to be careful what I write in my updates apparently.

Anyhow, I had a chocolate chip cookie milkshake at Java House today. It was my second this week. That’s what kind of a week I had (I usually only run to Java when I’m especially stressed and need a break from life). I’m reading my way through the Jungle Book right now and that also proved a wonderful escape. Stories of talking animals combined with the glory of a Java milkshake was just what I needed before returning to the chaos of daily life. I woke up today and knew I couldn’t survive the chapati cooking project. I needed a day to just be.

It’s been a hard week, to put it mildly. Actually it’s been one of the hardest weeks I’ve had in a very, very long time. I can’t go into so much detail but it’s sufficient to say that everything I have taught my team on Godly leadership was put to the test this week in full display of all just so I have the opportunity of living out all I’ve been teaching them the past year and a half. It also has tested their level of commitment to the ministry as well. Will you continue working for God and only for Him when the rest of the world is against you? You only find out when you are tested. God also has been thoroughly and completely humbling me, a lesson which never tastes good on the way down. The lesson of my own insignificance and need for God is a necessary lesson, but not an easy one.

God has been teaching me to rely on His word more as my only hope. He’s also been teaching me to dig more into Him. Necessary reminders. As good as milkshakes are, their goodness cannot come close to the sweetness brought on by meditating on the Word. When I finish the milkshake, it's all over with. With the Word, the more I drink of it, the more hope I have and the more strength to go on...and this is the kind of strength that far outlasts the time spent reading it. There is no substitute.

He answered a prayer of mine this week too. As usual, I need to be careful what I pray for cause too often God answers my prayers and I am not sure how many of my prayer requests I’ve really thought through the consequences of before I pray them. For awhile I had been struggling with the fact that coming home in September meant leaving Kenya and the work here with EAC. It’s been something that really was difficult for me and I prayed that God would help me feel ready to leave when the time came. This week answered that prayer, though in a much more difficult way than I could have anticipated. Now I am more than ready to come home. I can leave now. In all the years I have worked in Africa, I have never once said that I was ready to come home. I have never counted the days to departure before. That is why I had two milkshakes this week; two milkshakes, a sleepless night, a few long walks, quite a few tears and a whole lot of journaling.

I will finish this race. God has called me here and I will finish my term. I am here for Him and Him only. He is my reward and that is more than enough. I have been tested and my prayer is that at the end of the day I will hear those sweet, sweet words: “well done, good and faithful servant.” Those are the words I long for more than any other.

I turned 26 a few weeks ago. Athena, dear one, took me out for Ethiopian food to celebrate. When I returned home, the whole team was there just waiting for their chance to get revenge on me for all the surprise parties and drenchings they have received on their birthdays. I knew it was coming and was thoroughly soaked from head to toe when they were done. They made a cake too and decorated the living room with lots of love signs. I appreciated. I am blessed with wonderful friends in our co-workers.

The rain is continuing, but it might be a little lighter now, even though the living room is getting darker. The girls are discussing thunder storms at home. Beth is from Saskatchewan and Athena is from Florida so they have their fair share of lightning and thunder at home. At least our little garden behind our house is getting watered nicely. I weeded it today. I’m a very miserable gardener but I was inspired to trim the tomatoes, weed the sukuma wiki and slash the grass down. Athena planted an onion and a potato a few weeks ago as an “experiment” so that we could all find out what would happen. The onion is starting to grow but we don’t really know what will happen or what it will become. Even Martin, our resident farmer, didn’t know what the onion would grow into. Do onions make onion flowers? We want to find out.

“Thank you for rinsing my clothes again, God,” Athena says while staring out the backdoor. She spent a few hours washing her clothes today. They are carefully strung out on the clothesline in the back over the vegetable garden. She’s an eternal optimist and I really appreciate that.

I walked to the monkey trees quite a few times this week on my brain-clearing walks. There is an area near our house that I will purposefully go out of my way to go just so I can watch the troop of monkeys that live in the trees there. A whole troop of vervet monkeys go there to eat the fruit that grows on the trees. They are great, big, ancient looking trees and the intelligent monkey faces and their nimble movements really make me happy. Some day Athena and I want to bring stools and sit under the trees and just watch the monkeys. We saw a different type of monkeys in the forest behind us a few weeks ago. They were very fuzzy monkeys and also very cute. At home I watch squirrels, here I watch monkeys. The little yellow weaver birds make me happy too. Their complex little houses and cute squeaks they make just make me smile whenever I see them, which thankfully is a lot. Sometimes I think God made monkeys and weaver birds just to cheer me up on hard days and give me something to praise Him for.

I think my cooking buddy will be a bit late in helping cook today (and she’ll also probably be more than a bit late). I felt a little guilty today when I bought a chicken from the butcher shop and then passed a very protective mother hen and her flock of little tiny chicks peeping around her. It will make a good dinner though so I stopped feeling guilty. I will go start cooking the chicken and spaghetti by lantern light while Athena and Beth are calculating how much bread each person eats per day. I don’t know why they are calculating this but for some reason they have decided it’s important. They are calling it their “experiment”. More likely it’s entertainment when the power has gone off and their computers have died. Maybe the rain will stop, maybe it won’t. Maybe the power will come back, maybe it won’t. Regardless, God is still good and will be good and has been good and so there is always hope for tomorrow.

Introduction Ceremony

2011-06-06T18:06:00.002+03:00

I couldn’t sleep. It was well past midnight, but sleep couldn’t come. My mind was too full of thoughts. It was three days until the introduction ceremony. We were still about $1000 short of the money needed to have the ceremony, the Kenya team was coming soon and the house they were supposed to stay at bailed on us the last minute and we had no money pay for one, visitors were starting to arrive the next day and I had just managed to drop my phone into a thirty feet deep pit latrine (it was dark and I’m scared of cockroaches and my phone had a flashlight in it). All these issues ran through my mind, grabbing sleep and keeping it far away from me.
Ivan’s family began planning for the introduction almost a year ago. They have been having family meetings every month to discuss the affairs of the family. This event has been increasingly grabbing up importance as the event grew nearer and nearer. This particular week the family called for four meetings…on Sunday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday in order to pull together all that was necessary for the ceremony.

For busy people with their own jobs, families and lives, I was surprised to see family members arrive again and again at each meeting. Each meeting saw around 30 family members meander in and out….cousins, aunts, uncles, great uncles, great aunts, moms, dads, sisters, cousins-in-law, and every other kind of family members that can be conceived of showed up. Some came with lots of ideas and input about where to buy flowers, how to pick up the cake, what to cut out of the budget, and how the bull should be transported to the venue. Others came and sat quietly, adding very little verbal input but giving the encouragement of their presence as support. All came and donated whatever they could afford into the budget…whether just a few dollars or hundreds of dollars, everyone sacrificed of what they had to make sure Ivan was able to officially get his wife.

We had already been covered in blessings by the support and donations we had been able to receive. A friend of Ivan’s donated his house for us to use as a venue. Empower A Child gave two tents and two vans to use for transport on the day. Chairs came from a friend. Yet so many more things were needed.

God provided….as always…He provided just enough. When my sleepless night had passed, I was able to get a new phone to contact our visitors coming in and give them directions. Ivan sorted out a place for the Kenyan team to stay, my parents provided the money to feed them while Ivan’s mom organized people to cook for them. The money came in from all corners, bit by bit, it all trickled in until all expenses were covered.

The introduction came together perfectly. With the hard work of so many family members and friends, it finally came together and was beyond beautiful. I had expected a fun day, but also expected something to go wrong. The day ended up being one of the funnest days I’ve ever had and very little went wrong, at least nothing that would really dampen the day.

It’s hard to put into words…what meant the most to me was the support and love of our friends and family. All the people who sacrificed of themselves in order to show us love and care meant more to me than I can say. My mom and her husband came all the way from the states to accept my dowry and grant permission for me to marry Ivan. The Kenyan team came all the way from Nairobi to stand with me and be a support to us. Their sacrifice, love, and friendship meant the world to us. Elders traveled the long, bumpy 12 hour busride from the village to be at the ceremony.

My dowry was agreed on as a little bull with a heart on his forehead, a goat, two red chickens, and a whole suitcase full of hand carved crafts that were specially made in the village for my parents. Ivan had told his family that my parents were not expecting a dowry, that’s not in our culture, they still insisted because that is how you show respect for the parents who are letting go of their daughter and giving them to their son. So, the dowry was given and humbly accepted by my mother and her tears at receiving them said it all.

What did my mom do with the dowry? Well, obviously a bull can’t be taken on an airplane, even if he has a heart on his forehead and so we ate him the next day. The day after the ceremony saw a grand bull roasting party where about a hundred friends and family members casually came and ate sticks of roasted bull and roasted chicken that had been grilled over charcoal stoves outside. Mom carried home most of the crafts, however the bow from the bow and arrows didn’t fit in her suitcase and she had to leave it at the airport.

I can’t begin to describe all that happened at the ceremony. Pictures will have to tell the story. The most important events were the dowry being given, the bride and groom being found, Ivan publicly proposing to me in front of the family, speeches and blessings by both sides of the family, and then the succeeding celebration and dance party. The entire party danced long after they were tired and only stopped when the music stopped.

Ivan’s family loves dancing and can dance the night away, but they were more than surprised at being shown up by Athena and Cathy, our two MSTs that came with the Kenyan team. They danced with such enthusiasm and for so long that Ivan’s family was properly humbled and awed by these two mzungus who really could dance.

It was a joyous day and a day I will always remember as just a beautiful day. There are no other words to describe it. It was a day of hot pink and gold, of huge smiles and black suits. It was a day of overwhelming love and a warm blanket of joy…the kind of joy that I will hold onto and treasure and keep somewhere in a pretty box tied with ribbons deep inside my heart and take out from time to time to admire and praise God for coming through for me and for His goodness to me. That is all I can say to describe it.

When it was all over, when the tents were down, the pretty dresses put away, the balloons all popped, the cow and the cakes all eaten, then we all had to go home again. It’s back to work again and the craziness of a full house both in Uganda and in Kenya. It’s back to planning for the wedding and planning for moving to the states for the next few years. There is a lot to think about and do, but it will all come together in the end because I am still blessed with amazing family, friends, and a God who blesses us beyond what I can ever imagine.

Happiness is teaching English

2011-05-18T19:18:00.003+03:00

We finished our team picnic and were waiting for 2pm to arrive. We have a break from the boys at the juvenile home in between Bible class and our afternoon English lessons. During that time, the boys go to the dining hall where they eat their lunch and our team sits underneath the big Acacia tree and eats our picnic. Usually it's a funny lunch of potato chips, mandazi (donuts), cookies, mangoes, bananas, avocadoes, and anything else people feel like bringing that day.

While we ate our picnic, the ginormous cows came grazing nearby us, much nearer than I like, for they are really big and intimidating. We found out that cows like to eat chapati too. I decided I had enough of cows and sitting around and that I would go prepare for our English class of the day.

I usually have to get ready for our class well before two because our class is the outcast class that doesn't have a proper classroom. All the other classes have their own rooms but ours is pretty hit or miss. Usually we use the "recreation room" (i.e. a dilapidated art room full of stools and a miserable flaking chalk board) yet if the teacher who has the key to that classroom disappears, then our class has no class. A few times, we had class on the sidewalk outside the class. I wrote the lesson in chalk on the ground. This didn't work so well because there were too many distractions and the kids didn't like that kids from other classes would walk by and see what they were learning (my class is the lowest level...they feel a little self-conscious sometimes).

Lately, we've found that teaching in the dining hall is much more effective. Like today, I went to the recreation room. Sure enough, it was locked and the teacher had disappeared and was MIA. Seeing me walk to the class, I immediately had three of my students following me, telling me in Swahili that we needed to find the key. Once they saw it wasn't around they all shouted "dining hall!" so we crossed the lawns and classroooms all the way to the back of the property to where the dining hall was.

We were let in to the huge hall and took our usual table next to the left side wall. It was still twenty minutes before classtime but I already had four boys, all very excited for class and ready to learn.

They helped me get our "classroom" ready. Some essentials for days at the juvenile home: blank paper, chalk, sharpies, tape, and an old sock. I carry them every Wednesday. Now the chalk and old sock is for when we have a blackboard. the paper, sharpie and tape is for when we don't. In the dining hall there is no classroom so we tape paper to the wall and have class right there. Since sharpies don't erase so well, we have to tape up more paper whenever our "board" is full.

the students helped me tape up our board for the day and pass out their notebooks and take roll. Nancy hadn't come from the picnic yet and so I sat there for a few minutes scrambling over what to do...wait for classtime, or just start.

Starting class is a little tricky with my kids. You see, my class is a random mixture of kids who have had very little or no schooling. I've asked a few of the students about their background...one barely finished second grade, others I wonder if they have gone to school at all. Some have a very good knowledge of English but they can't read or write. Others are very good with reading but they can't write or don't know English. They are pulled from all ages.

When the boys are brought to the center, they are put into classes based on age and not on education level. My class, while mainly "fifth" graders have a few sixth, seventh and eighth graders too.

The oldest boys are the hardest. They are tall, strong, and more men than boys now. They tower above Nancy and I. They rarely show up to class. About half of my 17 kids I met for the first time on the day of their semester exam. They complained that the exam was too hard.

"I don't know this!" they said.

"If you came to class all term, you would!" I told them.

They still disappeared the next class.

Some of the older boys come but it is so hard to get them to come regularly. They prefer to help in the kitchen, help in the fields, and do anything else other than class.

Then there are the younger ones. There is a core group of around ten boys who always come to class. Every week they come, very excited to learn.

I can tell, they are learning and that makes me really happy. So far this year, we learned to write numbers 1-20 in English, we learned our alphabet and we drew pictures for all the letters of the alphabet. Now we are learning consonants, vowels, and three letter words.

Our class has to be entirely translated. That is why Nancy is so vital. Some of the kids can speak decent enough English, but some of the kids can barely speak any. Even with the kids that can speak English, knowing terms like "consonant" and "what do these share in common" are well over their heads. Likewise, my kiswahili isn't good enough to teach a full English lesson either. But we are all learning.

While I waited for Nancy to arrive today, I decided that we would review the words we had learned our previous lessons: cat, rat, fat, mat, hat, etc. I wrote them on our board and they read them outloud and told me the definitions. The words they couldn't remember, we had to translate. Between the one boy who knew enough English and my limited kiswahili, they got the point across.

Finally, it was actually class time. Nancy came to my rescue and more and more boys trickled in. We finally had around seven today.

Today's lesson continued our three letter words: Bet, let, set, met, jet.

We practiced reading all the consonant sounds in the alphabet with the endings of -at and -et. They had to make the sounds and then attach them to the endings, even if they were just nonsense words, to learn how to sound the words out.

To my joy, they understood and were reading. Then they had to make sentences using some of the words, an activity I knew they would really struggle with. Yet they struggled and did it and came up with the right answers.

There is one particularly tiny boy in our class who I have always had a soft spot for. During our initial placement exams, I could tell he couldn't read or write a bit and even mispelled his own name. On exams, he can't remember spellings of anything and he keeps switching letters around. Try as hard as we can, he isn't catching onto how to write. Yet he always comes to class. One of our most faithful attenders. He sits in the front row, works very hard, and tries with all his might on his exams. Everytime he gets the right answer, his face lights up and he is so happy.

Yet, he knows the answers. He can put sounds together and read. He is learning words and he can shout out the right answers. Today I was so impressed when I heard him read out all the words. He still struggled to write them and most likely won't be able to spell most of them, but he knows them. He will learn to read if he just keeps it up.

One thing that fascinates me with my class is how many attend the morning reading program. The first hour of the day, all willing participants come to draw and listen while I read the Narnia books outloud to them. Every week, I have at least four of my students, often more, attending. I know they don't know much English. yet every week they come.

Another small boy in my class makes me happy whenever I see him. He has a huge smile and really likes to be friends. He will run very fast to class whenever we come and will always greet us with a big smile. He was our highest scorer on our numbers and alphabet exam and no wonder. He kept practicing all the time. Even during reading program, instead of coloring pictures, we wrote out all his numbers and colored them in.

I love seeing them improve and I love it when they enjoy class. Seeing them so excited to learn and shout out answers and participate really makes me happy.

There is on particular seventh grade boy that I've really seen a change in. Our first weeks of class he came and sat looking very grumpy. He didn't like being with all these younger boys or in the slower class. He didn't smile, slouched, and did not seem happy to be there. He surprised me though because he still came every week.

You should see that boy now. At some point, he realized he was doing well in class and started participating more and more. His smile when he gets the right answers covers his face and while complaining that some work is hard, he still does it and gets the answers right and is so happy that he does.

The boys in our class all want a lot of recognition on their work. Nancy and I have to look over all their books, grade them, and give them feedback, or else they complain. Sometimes that means writing a smiley face with a red pen, other times it means putting stickers (which they proudly show to other classmates). For exams, we give the highest scorers and highest improvers lollipops. They really like that. If it's during class time, they like getting high fives when they get the right answer.

Today in class I struggled to get them to understand that we weren't having a test today so there would be no lollipops. They seem to want tests every week now.

We finished all the -et words and went on to the -it words. Eventually, they got chattier and chattier and Nancy decided they were too tired to continue.

"No we aren't! We continue!" they complained. Yet class time was almost over anyways and so we let them go. We gathered back their books and they went out to join the rest of the boys.

A hard thing with our class is to make them good about themselves. Being the boys the farthest behind, the other kids often make fun of them. We have to chase away all onlookers and spies who come to mock our kids. Class "chui" (class leopard) as well call ourselves, is not the "stupid" class but the class that has the most still to learn. They are bright kids and they are learning, but they are just a little farther behind than the others. But they will catch up. If given enough time, encouragement and instruction, they will all catch up, at least those who are willing. We have enough who are willing to make it absolutely worth our while to continue. As always, I just wish we could do more and more.

The Red and Yellow Flower

2011-05-10T19:03:00.002+03:00

At our old house in Fedha, we had a very decent sized yard. In this yard, there were bushes and trees, grass and vegetables, and even a few flowers. There were some yellow flowers near my bedroom window and a pink flowering tree near the kitchen window, and sometimes I liked to just go walk around the yard and look at the different flower. By far my favorite flower was a bright red and yellow one that grew next to the driveway near the water spigot and the porch.

It was such a pretty flower. Sometimes, when I would sit on the porch to have breakfast or to pray or to watch the clouds go by, I would look over and just look at how pretty the flower was and it really would make my heart smile a little bit. It was just my favorite flower. I really didn’t have a good reason why it was my favorite. I just thought it was exceptionally pretty.

One day, the owner of the house came to repave the driveway. Years and years of wear and tear had created little gardens within the cracks of the driveway and it was badly in need of repaving. Massive trucks came rumbling in like an earthquake and they started offloading mountains of rocks, sand, and cement to prepare for building. It was a long day and dust flew all over the place. When they finally finished, I realized they had placed an entire mountain of gravel on top of my favorite flower.

I was very sad by this. Of all places in the yard they could put the pile of gravel, it had to be on top of my favorite flower. The repaving took weeks. I don’t remember how many weeks it was, but it felt like forever. Maybe forever and a half now that I think about it.

When they finally finished, someone came by to pick up the rest of the gravel and sand and cement. The mountain was finally lifted from the grave of my favorite flower. I tore the rest of the gravel away from it and I looked at the strangled bits of stem that remained and mourned the loss of the beautiful thing.

A few weeks later, I was more than surprised when I glanced to the side of the yard and noticed a little green stem poking up from where the flower had been. I immediately starting watering it, just to help it along a little bit. A few weeks later, it began to unfurl leaves and then red started peaking out of its head. Then it fully bloomed again with that same glorious red and yellow flower.

When we moved to our new house, I had Martin dig up some of the roots of it and replant it at our new house here in Jamhuri. He did and sure enough, they took root and eventually bloomed even here and even after a long truck ride across the city.

Now I am happy when I look out the back window and just past the vegetable patch and underneath the clothesline, I see the happy little red and yellow flowers blooming in the back.

I’ve seen the same flower growing anywhere and everywhere around the city-next to Nakumatt, in the gutter near Toi, in people’s gardens and just on the side of the road. They remind me of pigeons. They can really survive anywhere. That just makes me like them more. They can take root and bloom no matter what circumstances they are in. That just makes it even more my favorite flower. I don’t know their name and I don’t really care. It just makes my heart smile a little whenever I see them growing cause I know that despite their elegant appearance, inside they are exceptionally hardcore.

I thought of my favorite flower last week while listening to a sermon from home online. Our pastor at my home church started going through the book of James awhile ago. I am a few weeks behind so I just got around to listening to the message on James 1:2-4, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work in you so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

Perseverance in the midst of trials. It reminded me so much of my favorite flower.

I pray God makes me like that flower, where no matter how many piles of rocks are put on top of me, no matter how many days I go without seeing the sun, I still never give up hope that one day the rocks will be gone. I pray that after the time of darkness has passed, and after the weight is lifted, I am able to still bloom just as beautifully as before, or even more so, having persevered in an impossible situation and overcome.

My fiancé gave me a name in his language a few months ago. “Acirocan,” he said, “because it means perseverance in Alur and that is one trait I have really seen in you.” Where did that come from? I guess from all the trials and tests of faith that have been piled on top of me again and again and again the past few years. How God has been working at developing my faith! How many times and in how many ways has God been testing me and then continues to come through for me! And how many million more times does He have to reteach me the same lessons of faith over and over again before my doubting, fearful heart finally trusts Him!

Yes, I pray that God continues to make me like that flower.

Adventures in April

2011-05-02T11:38:00.005+03:00

What to say about the fast few weeks since Ethiopia. I guess it’s been well over a month now. Days really fly and run together lately!

I’ve run quickly back into work and the usual day-to-day pressures of the ministry. Schools are closed for holidays. That means the primary school kids are on vacation and so Friday afternoons are open. We’ve been using those times to instead have meetings to plan for the summer. We should have more people this year. Instead of our average of two MSTs at a time last summer, we should have anywhere between 6-10 MSTs throughout June through August. That means we have to come up with plans of what we will do for our mission trip and for VBS this August. It also means we have to figure out what we need at the house to manage those kinds of numbers, i.e. new beds, new plates, cups, etc, and all the other logistics that are necessary.

Nancy and I have still been working on registration without any luck at all. We went to the next government office we were sent to on this wild goose chase and once again were bounced and told we don’t belong there either. Thinking about it later, it made me feel as if Empower A Child Kenya is a bat. We go to the birds and they say “go away, you aren’t a bird, you have fur.” Then we go to the rodents. They say “go away, you aren’t a rodent, you have wings,” so we stay stuck in between different government titles and government offices where no one quite knows where to send us or where it is we should go. Now we are trying to get help from a lawyer, but getting an audience from a lawyer is also proving as difficult. They are too busy and Easter holidays and other occasions don’t help.

In the meantime, I’ve been hard at work trying to lay the ground work to start up our Kenyan child sponsorship program. Emma has been running all over Kibera recruiting kids. She has around seven so far that she has identified as really needy (we need to start small until we know how to run the program well and can then add more students). While she does the fieldwork, I’ve been trying to remake the computerized database that the Uganda office is using in order to make it more effective and easier to use here in Kenya. That’s just more playing around with programs on my computer, trying new things, and learning new skills. It also means long days locked inside on my computer while the rest of the team is making chapati for kids or playing football with streetboys.

At the juvenile home, we finally finished reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in our morning program. When I asked the boys if they wanted to continue the program, I received a resounding “Yes!” and so we have started reading Prince Caspian. The boys insisted though, that we had to watch the movie from the first book so I made an agreement with them. “Whenever we finish a book, we can then watch the movie for it,” I promised them. So, the week after we finished the first book, we came with Victor’s DVD player and the movie. All the boys (even those not in the reading program) filled up the metal chairs in the dining hall in order to watch the movie on the tiny TV screen. The volume was so scant for that big hall that we had to turn the subtitles on just to know what was going on, but the boys absolutely loved it. Since then, every week they ask us if we have brought another movie for them.

Our teaching program has continued in the mornings. Though technically schools are on holidays this month, we decided to keep on teaching our kids because they really need the extra help. My class is still struggling to learn their numbers and the alphabet, but they are improving. I gave out lollipops to the kids that did the best on their exam. It worked like magic. All the sudden, the kids started begging for more exams so they could get lollipops too. Now we are working on recognizing the sounds of various consonants through a phonics book I found. The students are so excited when they get correct answers and when they learn. I love teaching those kids more than almost anything else I am doing right now.

In other news, Easter turns out to be a four day holiday in Kenya. I found this out the week before in a team meeting. I thought it was a regular work week for us and my staff told me very differently, “we go to church on Good Friday and we get Easter Monday off too!”

“Wow. A four day weekend,” I thought to myself, “what will the MSTs and I do with ourselves besides sit around home and watch movies.”

Then suddenly, it all made sense. Mombasa. The flowing palm trees, the turquoise ocean and white sandy beaches. How could there be any other option? I conspiracized with Athena and Cathy straight away. They were all in for an adventure.

Our Australian left right before Easter and the two MSTs from Uganda were also preparing to return to Uganda. Once they heard about our Mombasa plans, they immediately changed their departure date so they could join in.

Right before leaving for the coast, Ivan, my fiancé, also gave me a call. “We have spent every major holiday together. We can’t miss this one! I’m coming too!” I was pleasantly surprised, but immediately added him into our plans.

Late Thursday night, we left for the coast, and what an adventure we had! Since it was Easter weekend, a lot of other people had the same idea as us. The original place we hoped to stay was full so we stayed at a very inexpensive campsite. Camping near the beach sounded like a brilliant idea to us…until we got there and found out it wasn’t really a “campsite”, but tents shoved in between people’s hotel rooms. And the tents, which would be fine in a normal place, turned into ovens in the humid tropical heat of the coast. Not only so, but in the torrential downpours of the rainy season, the boys’ tents turned into little mini aquariums our first night, meaning we awoke to find the boys’ in our tent as well as us.

Then there was the advertised “cooking facilities” that we had been told about when we called to make reservations. In reality they turned out to be nothing more than a charcoal stove, which you would have to rent per use. Then you also would have to rent each individual pot, spoon, knife, and plate in addition to the charcoal stove. And where do you cook? There was no place for it, unless we took over some other guest’s front porch or else cooked outside in the rain. We decided to save ourselves money, the broke young people that we are, and try to eat cold, uncooked foods throughout.

By our second day there, we were a very miserable bunch. After waking up to pouring rain, the rain then continued all day long in a steady downpour. The girls still went swimming in the rain, it was surely warm enough for it, but the problem then was getting dry. While the tent was still an uncomfortable, steamy hot inside, there was no place to hang clothes unless we put them outside. But outside it was pouring rain. This meant that Ivan especially suffered, since all his clothes got a thorough rinsing in his flooded tent the previous night. Then we began to tire of meal after meal of peanut butter sandwiches and cookies. The thought of another couple nights of being wet and hot and hungry did not sound like very much fun and the boys, especially, were very dismal.

Finally, in a break in the rain, I went on a walk and checked out other places to stay. I found a beautiful apartment building and talked to the manager there. I told her our very sad story of flooded tents and miserable, wet boys and begged her to let us rent a one bedroom apartment for the six of us. It took a lot of bartering and begging but she eventually took pity on us and let us move in.

You should have seen how happy the boys were once they heard we were moving. We joyfully moved immediately (our campsite was ready to get rid of us too…they had overbooked their miserable tents and wanted to give our tent to someone else, poor souls) and that changed our entire weekend. All the sudden we had a full kitchen and could cook real food. We could hang out clothes to dry, take real showers, and sleep comfortably on couches, cushions, and beds. We were then truly in paradise.

Immediately we decided to go swimming. The sun came out, the water was as warm as a bathtub, and we swam and swam and swam.

The rest of the weekend, we truly enjoyed ourselves; swimming, gathering seashells, watching monkeys, and hangin out with good friends. It was lovely-the palm trees, flowering orange trees, flitting crabs, and sunrises. The heat just made the water that much more wonderful and our balcony at the apartment had a cool, fresh breeze. We learned a valuable lesson that weekend….no more beach camping!

Our return from Mombasa also saw the departure of all the Ugandan team. Craig, Kelsey and Ivan all returned to Uganda while our team continued our work here in Kenya.

I was able to pick up my wedding dress this week. It was finally finished with its alterations and cleaning and ready to come home. It’s so heavy it took two of us to bring it home. When I brought it home, I had to immediately take it out just to admire all the designs and beadwork and sparkles on it. I am very biased, however I think it’s the most beautiful dress in the whole wide world. Now we have three weeks till I leave for Uganda and our introduction ceremony. My mom will come to take part in the festivities and Ivan and I have been hard at work putting things together. He’s working on the overall planning, fundraising, and logistics of it. My job is much easier: getting dresses made for my maids, buying jewelry to match my dress (which is different from the wedding dress…yes, I got to pick out two pretty dresses…I am very blessed), figuring out how to do my hair, etc. I like those jobs better.

We went to a mixed cultural wedding this weekend. A British friend married a Kenyan friend and it was truly a beautiful wedding and they blended traditions nicely. While the energetic Kenyan dance party that followed took a few of the British visitors by surprise, the English barn dances that were taught afterwards also challenged the Kenyans. It was a blast. We are hoping that our party this month will be just as fun and as much of a blessing. Trying to combine cultural traditions and perspectives is a challenge but can really make for an interesting end result.

While in the eyes of Ivan’s family, we will be married at the end of this month, in the eyes of the church and government, we will not be officially married until our “real” wedding in October. This is just the families giving us permission to wed. I do find this custom very entertaining though…in Uganda you get two parties instead of just one! Please pray for the visa process to go on well though…government processes are a pain no matter what country it is!

Well, now it is time to go attack my mountain of dirty clothes that has been piling up for the past two weeks. Until next time….

For more pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/fbx/?set=a.10150156278289055.293225.664174054&l=05bb544aad

Ethiopia 2011: Rain

2011-04-11T14:29:00.004+03:00

“Looks can be deceiving. Driving across the province of Tigray, I wondered how people survived. The landscape looked so dry and barren; I wondered how people were able to grow enough food to support them. But when I asked an Ethiopian pastor about it, he told me that the land was very fertile and a lot of farming is done there. It looked dry only because it was harvest time.

Tigray, on the surface, appears dry spiritually as well. With less than .1 of 1% of the population Christian (and those Christians are highly persecuted), it looks like an impossible place to work and a very dry, arid landscape. But if you look closer, it is ripe for harvest and very fertile”. Blog entry, November 2008
It rained in Tigray. Rain came down in torrents and buckets. The thirsty highlands, plateaus and dry valleys soaked it up. The wet, cold, life-bringing rain taught me something. Spiritually, God is sending out His rain, His word onto this dry and thirsty land. I thought of my analogy of the harvest a few years ago. Now the analogy is the rain. Seeds have been planted and are being planted. Now God is sending the rain to create a bountiful harvest in Tigray. What fruit we have seen this past month!

“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” Isaiah 55:10-11

March 13th:
The team arrived in the morning. I recognized the luggage and ran outside immediately, leaving my French toast to be guarded by Athena and Emma, while I excitedly went to meet old friends. The whole team was there and it was a joy to see people from home again.
The team immediately started unpacking suitcases while Athena, Emma and I made another trip through town for more amazing handmade mango/papaya juice and to buy more kilos of the rich, thick white honey that comes from that region. We had been in Mekele two days already and enjoying our daily trips of shopping and exploration quite thoroughly. Yet we were still looking forward to joining with the rest of the team and getting to work.
It was a very chill day-in the afternoon we went to the TCCP-Church Planters Training Program. They had a graduation ceremony. A hall full of Bible students in black graduation robes were waiting for us and ready to graduate from the program.
It was a joyful ceremony. Brian and Rob spoke to the graduates. They received their diplomas and then the leadership thanked our team for our part (our church paid for TCCP) and reviewed some of what has been accomplished through the vision clinics the past five years. A man shared the following statistics:
-20,000 eye glasses have been given away.
-1,500 wheelchairs have been given away.
-2,000 have come to Christ.
-13 churches planted.
-223 graduates from TCCP.
-24 districts in Tigray now being reached.

“In the eyes of people, we are small, but in the eyes of God, we are big to reach our people,” said one speaker. It’s a joy to see things grow and progress.
Rain picked up. Much needed rain for this dry land and it knocked out the power and made it difficult for us to understand each other, let alone the graduates with their broken English. Then as it fell dark, we could see less and less so finally went back to the hotel.
The graduates are a wealth of testimonies about the power of God at work. For example, one of the graduates gave a testimony to the leaders there. Her son had worked with us our first clinic. He was a believer but there he learned how to share the gospel. He went home and shared with his mother, who then wanted to kick him out of the house and was very angry. Then God touched her heart. She got saved and shared with her husband, who got angry and wanted to divorce her. God touched his heart too. After that, the woman’s mother came to Christ, and the house help as well. The woman started going to TCCP and is now planting churches.
Many of the churches here are still underground. The churches of Mekele, however, are now recognized and respected by the government because of their work with the clinics.
However, things have tightened up in the country as a whole. Southern Ethiopia has seen around 50 churches burned by Muslims. To prevent more of the same, the government is forbidding proselytizing of any kind anywhere. To add to it, the former minister of health who was very supportive of our work has been replaced by a new man who is very hostile to our work. We have been warned that we are being given one more chance. If we are caught evangelizing anywhere, we will be shut down and possibly never allowed again.
So while that is our purpose and our passion, our leaders have said for now, for this trip, we keep our mouths shut and simply pray. But it reminds me of our first trips-when things were so tight and God still worked. That is our prayer this time as well-for God to work despite us and despite the Ethiopian government and for God to spread His message in ways only He can.

March 14th
I wore my white Ethiopian dress and ate injera firfir for breakfast. We saw African doves on the balcony and named them. We did our first eyeglass clinic for the local believers. We saw over a hundred people that afternoon, mostly from the church, and many who were very happy to talk about Jesus and thank us for coming.
Ethiopians Christians will still be sharing the gospel, even if we can’t. I realized that is a big difference between the first trip till now. The first trip, the Ethiopians were afraid. Now they aren’t. And we are all one body and one team. While they share, we work. We bring the people, they bring the gospel. Since we started working , this area has grown from 1,000 believers in the province to around 3,000. And more and more church planters are getting trained every year. It will only keep growing.

March 15
Second full day of clinics is done. Long, full days. We are finally working and it is good to be working. I worked the autorefractor with Linda. Every clinic each year has new and better ways of doing things. We have more “toys” too (like a second autorefractor so we don’t need station one at all anymore and can test everyone’s eyes with the autorefractor).
We worked fast. Through the day we saw 697 people. That’s huge! Near the end, we just sent people through readers because the station that builds glasses had enough work on their hands. We have a big enough and trained enough team to really see a lot of people. Emma and Athena now know how to run readers and are enjoying.
Today it really rained and was very cold. A very challenging day. Eyes were exceptionally bad and we had a lot of old people. Llinda’s autorefractor stopped working. I got so many people who I couldn’t get clear readings on no matter how I struggled. By lunch time, I was fried and needed a break.
It’s really hard to send people away too. They have so much hope and so many high expectations. They expect us to be able to fit everything. They want medicine and surgeries. They are so poor and so desperate. Sending away the ones we can’t help is heart-wrenching.
After lunch, and a ways into the afternoon, I left Linda with the one functional autorefractor and happily went to help assemble glasses. Meticulous work but I really enjoyed it. It was something different and something new. I got to see some lovely end results of putting glasses on people and seeing them smile and say thanks. Seeing the end result and that people we tested with very bad sight can now see is very fulfilling.

March 16th
There is fruit and encouragement on all sides this trip. My translator ditched me again-he wanted to go out and share the gospel. I was happy to let him go and happy to hear about him and the others with him who were sharing with Muslims outside the mosque.
“They may not have received this time, but at least they have heard and the Word will grow,” they told me.
Three women were by the main gate this morning. Emma and I went to greet them. They have been busy sharing the gospel this week. We complimented one on her dress. Another explained:
“It is a dress for a wedding. She wears it because today she is sharing the gospel and that is better than a wedding.”
I love that. It’s a burning passion and zeal. That heart will soon engulf all of Tigray. It’s only a matter of time. It’s contagious.
What I see here is a beautiful place and a beautiful people that God longs to have as His own. He has a jealous, burning desire to have their praise again, to have their zeal be His own, and to have their hearts as His. He is hard at work making it happen, using all means and threads necessary.
The Ethiopian Christians are grateful. “It’s hard for us to reach the people. When you come, it’s easy. The people all come.”
So we are the bait and they are the fishers. You need both. You can’t have one without the other. It’s just not the roles we came expecting.
And maybe that’s part of the humility we are learning. God doesn’t need us. He uses us but He doesn’t need us. We aren’t the masterminds here. Just part of a much bigger strategy that we can’t even begin to comprehend and it’s God that makes it grow.
Another translator came to me today, very happy, “This verse is for your team,” and he read Ephesians 6:10-“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

March 18th
We finished. We finally finished. What a great week we’ve had though. It’s sad to see it end.
We held a clinic at a prison here in Mekele. We all wore our bright yellow shirts that were a gift from the pastors. They proudly read “Jesus is Lord” across them in Amharic. At the prison, we were entirely free to share the gospel so we really shared.
Guards brought in prisoners a group at a time. The second autorefractor was still being funky but at least functional. Yet it was the easiest day by far for our station. Almost all the prisoners were under 60, healthy, and well-dressed. There weren’t any of the horrid growths, cataracts and diseases we see so often or at least the ones that were there didn’t impact the autorefractor readings. We saw over 400 people during the day.
Our translators kept sharing the gospel with people. Outside, Ethiopians believers were also hard at work. There was an air of excitement and joy around the clinic.
One young man came in, a prisoner. Our translators immediately recognized him and happily started talking,
“He is a believer. He is in jail because he was sharing a testimony about Christ. All the others who were arrested with him have been released but he is still here. He’s here for three months.”
The young man’s pocket was bulging. He pulled out an evangecube and he proceeded to go out and help with evangelism.
Our translator then started recounting his own experiences getting arrested in various cities around Tigray. “They only arrest me for a few days and then they release me,” he said with a happy smile.
We finished the clinic early, by four, and were able to go to a restaurant with all our translators and disciplemakers. We more than filled the restaurant. As pizzas and tibbs and injera kept coming, speeches were made and gifts were given. We were each presented with an “I Love Ethiopia” scarf and thanked profusely for coming. It was a joyful fellowship and sharing of food. We all made friends and learned a lot this week.
It was a good week. There was fruit. 2000 people received glasses, 569 heard the gospel and 70 came to Christ. That’s pretty good considering were weren’t allowed to share. But the secret, I think, is when are we really allowed to share? Sometimes not being allowed to makes it even more bold and impactful when the sharing happens. The Ethiopians keep sharing though the cost may be imprisonment or even death. Those were the stakes that helped the early church grow so quickly and powerfully across the Roman empire.
Later, a pastor was telling me about their new “freedom” to share. Under the derg (communist regime), the persecution was even worse. You weren’t allowed to have Bibles and they had to smuggle them into the country. People had to run away to other countries because Christians were getting imprisoned and brutally tortured for their faith. They could spend years in jail. Now, in comparison, they really have freedom to share!
God is still at work and will continue to work here. The seeds have been planted and only God can make them grow. His harvest is plentiful, and the workers are growing and multiplying. And God has a plan and knows what He is about.

“’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. ‘As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts,’” Isaiah 55:8-9

Flashback: the First Trip to Tigray, 2006

2011-04-11T13:36:00.004+03:00

Mekele, Ethiopia
August 16th-26th, 2006

“Thank-you. Thank-you so much for coming to help us. You have brought us hope. That is enough. No more needs to be said,” said a young boy, a college student about my age at the old Italian-built clinic, now serving as our base for the eye ministry.

It had been a long road. The trip began with everything going wrong. As if the previous ticket/date scrambles weren’t enough, the heightened security caused by the recent terrorist threats made the beginning of our travels that much more exciting. By God’s grace we made it through the awkward airport search-throughs and pat downs, made our worrisome London connection, and somehow got all 20 of us to Ethiopia, yet our 3:30am arrival in Addis Ababa was less than smooth as only a portion of the team luggage actually arrived in the country. Many of the team members, including myself, were bumming clothes and toiletries off of other teammates, and learning the true value of clean underwear and toothbrushes. Then, despite efforts from Tigrayan government officials, customs only let through our eyeglass equipment at a price and through Marguerita’s plaintive tears and hours of haggling with officials.

Eventually we made it though but our first day in Addis turned into our first two days in Addis after our Mekele flight was first cancelled and then delayed. Saturday afternoon we finally arrived, a day and a half later than planned, at the airport in Mekele, where we were greeted warmly by the Tigray province Minister of Health who had been anxiously anticipating our arrival. He picked us up from the airport in government-owned vehicles (for those of you unfamiliar with missions trips-this is not a normal occurrence) and we were taken to the clinic in Kwiha where throngs of Tigraians had been patiently awaiting our arrival for days.

To say we had a scrambled set-up is putting it mildly. With half of our materials somewhere between London and Addis, along with all our procedures and a bit of our sanity, compounded by a new facility, nearly untrained team, and an already late start, it was a miracle we got anything working correctly on our first day. Not only so, but as with all of our plans, our previous ideas of ministry in the area were also scrapped during a meeting with the area’s church leadership that afternoon. We came with ideas of proclaiming the saving grace of Jesus openly and boldly to many, planting churches, and starting movements in this very much closed area. Yet quietly, passionately, the spokesmen for the 7 churches in the area made his plea.

“No evangelism. Do not even mention the name of Jesus,” he said. “If the people think we are just trying to convert them, we are lost. This area has been closed for so long that even just the fact that evangelical Christians are allowed to put on the clinic is amazing. We just need to get the door open. Any hint of anything other than humanitarian aid on this first day could be disastrous and lead not only to a dispelling of clinics for the week, but also permanently closed doors and even persecution for the church leaders. Show Jesus’ love in your actions. For today, that is enough.”

A cloud of dampened enthusiasm and sobriety quickly fell over our team’s previously eager faces and we found that our zeal would have to be tempered by patience and humility.
They had undergone much for their faith. Persecution, poverty, rejection, ridicule, all had refined and purified the church. The church, though small (around 1,000 people out of 1 million in the province), was brilliant and radiant with a faith stronger than I had ever met before and with the passion of the Holy Spirit like I had never come in contact with before.

And so, our first day we came to serve and tried to quietly share the love of Christ through our actions. The town of Mekele was well informed of our coming. Everyone seemed to have heard about the clinic. Well-advertised throughout the province, many had journeyed countless miles for the chance for a free eye-test and glasses. To our surprise, the local news media was also awaiting our arrival with camera in hand, interviewing and watching our proceedings. We had many watching our every move.

At the simple facility, there were hundreds of people of all shapes and sizes-from college students to Orthodox priests garbed in rough, white clothes and large crosses, intimidating military men to housewives quietly holding their babies-all overflowing into the little courtyard, lined up in masses on the steps, and sitting on benches around the facility. We could merely prescribe reading and distance glasses but they came with problems of all kinds: swollen eyes, watering eyes, crossed eyes, missing eyes, discolored eyes, and cataracts-these we could not help. However, we were blessed with help from local nurses and doctors who could give a bit more expertise and assistance than we could give.

And, much to the amazement and joy on both Americans and Ethiopian Christians alike, God did what He does best and moved mountains, broke down walls, and threw wide the doors of Mekele. By the second day, walls had already begun to crumble as people’s hearts were warmed by the love shown towards them.

“Why are you here? Why have you come to help us? Why do you have such joy?” patients would ask and gradually the team was able to tell them. They would pull seekers aside, and tell them, “We are here to share the love and salvation of Jesus Christ. He is our joy and He offers love and forgiveness for all.”

On Sunday night, the Vice President of the region took our entire team and translators to an Ethiopian feast at a local restaurant, and near tears, thanked our team for coming to help his people.

“It gives us so much hope to know that people in California would spend their own time and money to come all the way to Ethiopia to help our people. We cannot thank you enough.” Our leaders were able to share the Gospel with the politicians present, as well as develop a relationship with them to enable future cooperative efforts to aid the people in the region. The Minister of Health was a frequent visitor and helper to us, and out of gratitude, insisted on providing means for our entire team to sight see some of the historical sites of the region (once again, for those of you not familiar with missions trips-this kind of government blessing and cooperation is incredible!)

On another joyful note, Sunday afternoon also brought back all our team luggage (as well as my clothes, much to the rejoicing of both myself, my mother whose clothes I no longer had to steal, and my team who no longer had to see/smell me wear the same shirt day in and day out).

They are a strong people, fiercely proud in their customs and country; a beautiful people, rich in thousands of years of tradition and history. A previous world power and cultural center now split between their past glories, their more recent tragedies and failings, and the winds of change and modernization that press heavily on all sides. They are caught in between worlds and times, yet so strong.

It was the Christians of Mekele that most impacted me. Their faith and experiences with God floored me. Stories of dreams, visions, miracles, and the power of the Holy Spirit against the power of darkness left me with mouth agape. Things that we read about in the Bible are seen daily. And the power of the Holy Spirit and necessity of prayer is so much more apparent and I was truly humbled by their faith. As one young girl said, “To pray is to breath,” and by that they lived.

“Our church has been here for 10 years, but we are still very small,” said the local Baptist church elder. “Prayers have been working and opening up the hearts of the people in this area and attitudes are changing. They see in our lives that our faith is real. When they see that we, too, have financial hardships, they see that we were not paid by foreigners to convert.” And he showed us where a church building had been torn down a few years previous by neighbors who tried to take the church down with it.

Over the 5 days of ministry, the eyeglass team treated over a thousand patients and had to turn away even more. By the end of the week, Christ was shared with student, doctor, military man, and politician alike, very cautiously, but many came to know Christ, and the pastors were able to connect with even more. Most importantly, doors were opened for the churches of Mekele.

Precious Children

2011-03-07T14:31:00.004+03:00

On Friday, we were at a primary school in Kibera that we go to every Friday afternoon. The January sun was hot and scorching and the dust of the school yard swirled around us. The Kenyan flag also flew bravely in the wind, along with my skirt, which I kept holding down and cursing myself for wearing a flowy skirt on a windy day.

The moment we arrived, we were swamped by a million little hands and hugs. The kids are always so happy when we come we can’t get enough hands to greet them all. The kids came running across the school yard to meet us with big smiles on their faces.
It’s a rough school building, donated by various partners and do-gooders. Sheet metal classrooms make up most of the school, while a few of the buildings are made of mud, badly damaged in the last big rain storm when the stream roared over its banks and washed through the simple mud walls. The school is in the middle of the slum. Its backdrop is the tall banks of the railroad track and the mabati (metal sheet) roofs of Kibera.

The kids at this school are here because they can’t afford to go anywhere else. (to put this into perspective…government school are “free”, i.e. all kids need to do is pay for their uniforms, books, and a tuition fee and food fee totaling around $50 a year…these kids can’t afford that). This school is better than no school, but even still, there is a lot lacking ( Like the other day when the first graders were being taught that they eat off of a “plat” and that a “basket” is “what we use to carry water”).

We tried to gather all the kids in the school yard. We were going to try something new with the kids today: playing games outside. We usually try games inside the classrooms but wanted to try something different today. The hundred or so kids of the school range from about three years old up to about 15 years old, forcing us to be very creative in our teachings and games. We tried to play a game called “hit the bottle” (i.e. two teams take turns trying to hit a bottle with a shoe for points…a very creative name) but just as we had separated the kids into two groups, I realized that even this game was too much for the preschoolers. We separated the preschoolers from the rest and tried to play “Bendy Bendy Bendy!” and they understood that ok (however playing it on a hill, I nearly fell over once) and then we played “I want, I want”. Most of them got that ok, though some still sat there staring and not sure what they were supposed to do.

Yet the sun grew hotter and the kids’ attention spans waned so we herded them into the shade of one of buildings and sang songs together. They remember the songs we teach them each week and will happily start leading themselves in songs…though sometimes all different songs at the same time. We taught them a new song, “One little duck, swimming in the water”. I think we need to work at that one a little more.

When the older kids finally finished their game, we all crowded into the biggest classroom. The big kids enjoyed their game so much they didn’t want to stop playing. The big kids carried in some wooden desks that they squeezed four kids each on. The little kids all sat on the dusty floor. I joined the little kids on the floor and immediately had two little kids fighting for space on my lap. They were especially tiny ones so they both fit. While I am not supposed to have favorites, this one little tiny girl is especially precious and so cute; I can’t help but be very happy to see her every week.

We sang more songs with the kids while Martin and Jane quickly put on their costumes in the next classroom. They came plodding in dressed as a very old man and a very old woman, hunched over with painted on grey hair and wrinkles. The kids all laughed and we immediately had their attention. Role playing as Abraham and Sarah, Jane and Martin told the story of their life, reminiscing on what they had experienced in their long years. Since the kids saw the story this week, next week we can expand on it and give them an actual teaching. Through our experience with the kids, trying to do a story and a teaching all in the same day has proven to be a bit much and they remember better when we split it up. This has been the fourth story we’ve gone through from Genesis and our team has really enjoyed putting together puppet shows and skits to illustrate the stories. Our sock puppets have been exceptionally awesome.

Martin and Jane did the skit in Swahili. While the big kids might understand the English version, the little kids would be completely lost (though the very little ones sometimes get lost even in Swahili and start falling asleep in the warm sunshine). Next week during our teaching time, we will split them into about four different age groups to teach them more effectively. The younger the kids, the less teaching time and more coloring time they get. Athena has been drawing some great coloring pages for the kids to decorate during our weeks of teaching.

After we finished with the kids, the kids followed us out and hung around us, not wanting to go home until they are sure we have gone. Our team was ready to go, but were still waiting for Emma.

When we had first arrived that afternoon and were being mobbed by kids, one little girl caught the attention of Emma and myself almost immediately. She was a lovely little girl, not more than six years old with big brown eyes. What caught our attention was her head. It was completely covered with white, pussy, oozing sores. Some were scabbed over with ugly, knobby crusts; others were still fresh and liquidy. It was a severe case of ringworms, more severe than I have ever seen.
“Emma, is that ringworm?”

“Yes. She needs to go to the hospital.”

“Take her. We’ll come up with the money.”

So Emma disappeared with the little girl and took her straight to a clinic nearby. The doctor had to run a few tests but eventually discovered, as we feared, that she wasn’t only full of worms externally, but internally as well. She needed immediate treatment, injections, her wounds wrapped, and then continual treatment every day for the next month.

The little girl was so used to pain that she didn’t even flinch at the injection. Emma bought her a lollipop and took her home to talk to her mother. We were all wondering what kind of mother lets her kid get so sick, when all our judgments proved unfounded.

The mother, a single mother of three, was abandoned by her husband a few years ago. She gets a living through working odd jobs, like washing clothes or anything else she can find. Needless to say, the family really struggles to get by. She was very worried about her daughter and had taken her to a local clinic several days before. The doctor at the clinic looked at the kid and gave her nothing but pain killers. (pain killers…I’m not a doctor…but how do pain killers treat worms?) The mother has been faithfully administering the prescribed medicine to her daughter and been distraught over her lack of recovery. The day before we met her, she had been so upset that she had been crying out to God for help and for healing for her daughter. She knew she didn’t have the money to go back to the clinic but her daughter was doing so poorly that she was at a loss of what to do.

When Emma brought the little girl home and apologized for taking her to the doctor without the mother’s permission, the mother was overjoyed. She found her prayer had been answered.

We are hoping to check on the progress of the little girl this week. We are hoping to see her quickly heal and no longer be so painfully tormented by a preventable and treatable disease. Yet my heart grieves to wonder how many other kids and parents also suffer from preventable and treatable causes. Next Friday, we’ll be back to the school in the hot sunshine once again.

***Epilogue*** Emma visited the little girl today (Monday). The wounds on her head have cleared up and she is looking healthy again. She visited the doctor again today. The doctor at the clinic was so touched at us taking the time to take care of this little girl that she has volunteered to deworm all the kids at the school for free every six months...talk about a ripple in a pond effect! What good was done to one kid can now impact all hundred kids at the school. Praise God!

Not For Ease Our Prayer Shall Be

2011-02-28T10:49:00.002+03:00

It’s been a quiet Sunday here in Nairobi. I went to church this morning with Amanda, my Canadian friend, and her Kenyan husband Tobi. I had never been to their church before. They are finally leaving for Canada late Friday night so I figured I had better go with them this week. I will miss them, but I am glad they finally get to go home. It’s been a nearly three year long battle trying to get Tobi’s visa. Now they can finally go.

Church this morning was refreshingly truthful. The lady speaker shared on how just because you are God’s child and in His will, it doesn’t mean life will be easy or there will be no hardships. I’ve been to too many churches that preached “health, wealth, and prosperity” and if you are a child of God, no harm should ever befall you. It was nice to have a much more honest, biblical view of life taught. Yes, God promises to never leave us and in the end, He wins, but in the meantime, the world still belongs to Satan and there still will be hard times. The story of Job was our example.

When we were leaving church, Amanda turned to me, “this goes along with your life lessons this week, doesn’t it?”

I laughed. She was absolutely right. My theme of life this entire week from various churches, books, and conversations with people has all revolved around the same topic: life is hard, we have to persevere and keep going no matter how hard it gets. The fact that this lesson keeps reverberating from all directions made me worried…what’s gonna happen next? What is God preparing me for now? I began bracing myself for some catastrophe or another.

I don’t know if it’s really a catastrophe that God is preparing me for though…if it is, I guess I’ll find out, but what I have seen is God really preparing me for the future, especially in regards to marriage.

My lesson began last weekend. My fiancé came for a visit and we decided to visit the massive Anglican cathedral on the edge of Nairobi. Two weekends before, we had taken engagement pictures around there and were amazed at the size and splendor of the castle-like structure. It was like stepping back in time to a different country and era. The organ, church bells, stained glass windows, and plaques donated for various colonial officers and men who died in the early 1900’s from lion attacks, WWI, etc. all showed the ancientness and history of the place.

We came back a week ago to attend a service. I have grown up in evangelical, very modern churches most of my life and have spent very little time with more traditional services. The rising, sitting, and liturgy was interesting and half the service I sat just taking it all in, not quite sure what to do. But when the pipe organ and full-robed choir filled the vaulted ceilings with a glorious music of old hymns, I stood mouth agape just soaking in the beauty of it all. Ancient hymn books from the 1800’s provided us the words to sing along and then I was at a loss of what to do-either take in the music or take in the profound words of the hymns. One in particular jumped out. By the end of the service, I knew God had spoken to me…but not through the sermon. It was through one of the hymns. As we sang it, it just hit me-that hymn was for me.

Father, hear the prayer we offer:
Not for ease that prayer shall be,
But for strength that we may ever
Live our lives courageously.

Not for ever in green pastures
Do we ask our way to be,
But the steep and rugged pathway
May we tread rejoicingly.

Not for ever by still waters
Would we idly rest and stay;
But would smite the living fountains
From rocks along our way.

Be our strength in hours of weakness,
In our wandering be our guide;
Through endeavor, failure, danger,
Father, be thou at our side.

It was God telling me that life will not be easy. It will be a struggle. Yet this needs to be my prayer and I need to face it with all the courage and joy He gives. That’s a hard prayer to pray.

I have been through seasons of life in the past where God’s message to me was that “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul.” I knew He was leading me through a lush season of growth, quietness and being poured into. It was a safe haven for growth. Yet that is not what He is saying now. His continual promise to me is that He will never leave me nor forsake me and He will be with me no matter what…but this is not a season of green pastures and still waters. Seasons come and go. In future those might come again, but in the meantime, I need to brace myself and prepare myself for whatever comes, no matter how hard or how easy.

The pastor at church quoted someone or another saying “true faith will never be shaken by hard times because it has come as a result of being shaken by hard times”.

End of February Update

2011-02-28T10:41:00.000+03:00

It's been another warm, sunny morning here in Nairobi. Two of our MSTs just left to go feed (and kiss) giraffes at the giraffe center. Today we are having our traditional taco night (farewell dinner) for Sam, our boy from Kansas. Our Australian already left to go visit the Uganda team. Our house is slowly getting emptier.

We've had a lovely month with our team. They've been a cheerful, helpful, enthusiastic, and non-complaining bunch-basically the kind of people you want to keep forever and not see go home. The house has been full of laughter, guitar playing, and a lot of fun. They will be missed.

A few weeks ago, I was very excited to finally have our NGO registration materials accepted (after being bounced multiple times to go search out the appropriate signatures and formats of paperwork), only to be sorely disappointed again this week. Apparently in Kenyan law, a religious organization cannot be an NGO (non-governmental organization) but has to register as an FBO (faith based organization), which sends me right back to square one...no, maybe square zero...

On the plus side, our kids in our English class at the juvenile home can now almost write numbers 1-20 out well and learned capital letters this week. They are getting better each week and are very excited to learn. They really make my day when I see them so excited to go to English class and so happy when they get the right answers in class. The teachers of the institution really encouraged me this week in the work we are doing with the boys.

Emma, Martin and Victor were able to attend a training organized by another organization to train people and organizations about children's rights and working with kids at juvenile homes. They were able to meet the heads of many different juvenile homes around Nairobi and beyond. This was a fantastic opportunity because not only were they able to learn information very necessary for the work we are doing, but they were able to be introduced to many other government institutions around Nairobi.

We now may be able to start working with a juvenile home for girls as well as a rescue institution for lost and abandoned children. This next Saturday we are visiting the rescue home where around 100 children all age 6 and below are taken care of. And what did they ask us to help with? Cooking chapati. They have all the materials needed, they just lack the manpower. So now our team gets to exercise our spiritual gifts of chapati making all for the glory of God. ;)

Emma, Athena and I will leave for Ethiopia on a week from Wednesday. We will be meeting up with a team from my home church and partaking in an eyeglass clinic in northern Ethiopia. We test eyes for both distance and reading glasses. The clinics bring in people by the thousands and can really be life-changing for people in an area very cut off from such services. Through the clinic, we are able to share the good news of Christ with many people who come for the clinic. We are looking forward to the opportunity very much.

Please pray for the upcoming trip to Ethiopia-for God to really use this trip to impact people's lives and plant seeds for the future.

Pray for registration! I'm a bit at a loss for this one. Please pray for wisdom and the right connections for it to finally come together.

Pray for God to guide us with the projects and ministries we are involved in and where EAC Kenya should go in future.

Finally, keep praying for the kids at the projects we work with. Many of them have so many layers of hurt and issues from their pasts to work through. Pray for God to really get ahold of their lives and heal them as well as provide for their futures.

Careful What You Teach

2011-02-07T15:03:00.004+03:00

One thing I learned during my time in Jr. High ministry was to be careful what I teach...God has a habit of forcing me to conveniently have to live out my lessons for the kids in my own life each time I teach. It always irritated me because teaching a principle and living out a principle are two different things entirely. Like the week I teach on family conflict, I end up having family conflict at home, or the week on patience, something happens that really makes me wait, it's much easier to teach something than live it out. When I finally recognized this pattern, I realized I needed to be very careful what I taught cause I should surely see it in life experiences that week. As effective as this habit is for giving me live teaching examples from my own experiences, it did make me want to carefully consider what i would teach in succeeding weeks.

With Empower A Child Kenya, I also do times of teaching. Our team takes every Friday morning to spend time going through a book on leadership to learn how to be more effective, godly leaders as a team. It's a great time of sharpening, growing, and learning together. Yet I was reminded last week about the importance of being careful what i teach again.

This particular Friday morning was on "Tests in Leadership" and we went over some of the tests that all leaders have to undergo during their time of leadership, such as jealousy, ambition, impossible situations, etc. We had a good discussion over this difficult topic...who likes to be warned of the hard things they will face in their life?

Afterwards we went to a primary school and then split up in town. While some of the team was making the long, hot journey back to the ministry house, I had to go and run errands around town. The first was the new rental company. They had called me in the morning and told me to come but I wasn't prepared for what they had called me in for.

"The owner of the house has decided that he doesn't want you in his house because you will be too many people," said a receptionist. "your deposit will be refunded to you on Monday."

I sat dumbfounded, mouth agape, on the brink of tears. "Is there anything we can do to change his mind?" I asked.

"You can call this lady," she said and gave me a phone number for a member of the company, "and maybe she can help you."

I walked out of the office in a daze, and down the seven flights of stairs. The skyscrapers of downtown Nairobi towered over me, just beginning to reflect the golden rays of the disappearing day. Men in suits with brief cases, beggars holding cups, and carefully primped and preened women all passed me on the streets without me noticing them. They may have noticed me though and questioned my sanity because it probably looked like I was talking to myself.

I wasn't talking to myself though. I was praying.

"God...you brought us to this house. I am sure of it. It has everything we were praying for, even down to a large water tank and a shamba. This is our house. It has to be our house. God, please, change his heart. I'm begging you. Don't let your servant be put to shame.

"God, you know. You've heard my prayers. We can't stay where we are. We can't go back to looking for another house. This is our house. Please. You move mountains...move this one too."

After fighting the chaotic jam and traffic of the eastern end of Nairobi, I finally made it back to Fedha. Already MSTs were hard at working making bean burritos. An electric lantern was their only light, as usual. When we moved in December of 2009, the kitchen light of that house was broken. We were promised it would be fixed. Six months later it was fixed, but four months later it was broken again. We had been promised for the last three months that the rental company was sending someone to fix it. Yet this illusive handiman never showed up, so they continued their work by lantern light.

They had to get the jerrican man to bring us water on his wheelbarrow too. Ever since the rental company had "fixed" the water tank, we hadn't been able to get a drop of water from the city council into that house, leaving us in a full house with no water. Once again we were being told "we will fix it right away," but the months were still slipping by with our pipes remaining dry. This was only few of the neverending wrangles with the previous rental company. It became clear that while they were given money to fix our house, workers in the rental company pocketed the money, which leaving us in a broken house. This had been going on for months and I had to sit through meeting after meeting with various representatives of the company, which all ended the same way. "We are working on it." While they continued to "work on it" I also decided to "work on it" and move as soon as a house opened up.

And a house had opened up. Miraculously, we had been able to see the house, immediately put down the deposit, given our notice for our previous house, and start preparations for moving the next week. Yet, that was when I got the call. That horrible call.

I walked into the house and straight into my room. I needed to cry out to God more and more. I picked up my guitar and started to play and play, not even listening when I was finally called for dinner. I was done. I knew it. I couldn't handle more months of four hours a day on a matatu. I couldn't handle more wrangles with the rental company or more months of no water. The long, dusty days of fruitless house hunting and extortionist house brokers needed to be over. We needed to move.

Not that we hadn't enjoyed and appreciated our house in Fedha. We had made friends in the area, loved our peaceful quiet days off and the sunshine in the garden. We learned how to make do without water. We also learned how to make the time on matatus tolerable (I read more books and novels in this past year than I have since Jr. High).

However, all things must come to an end and for us to grow as an organization, we couldn't stay there any longer.

I tried calling the lady they told me to call. Her phone was off. It stayed off too...all weekend. So I just kept praying. Then I remembered our lesson during training that morning-"Tests of Leadership" and realized it was my day to be tested with an impossible situation.

The next day we were preparing for a welcome home party for Sean, one of my old AIM team friends. The team came over to help with preperations. In telling them the housing situation, Martin volunteered to call the owner of the house and seek to find a solution. I immediatly handed him my phone and tried to clean while actually waiting in anxious anticipation.

He came back inside after five minutes. "We are fine. The owner has given us permission to move in. It was all a misunderstanding," he said. I almost cried again, but this time in relief and joy.

One week later, we moved in. I felt like the Israelites coming into the promised land. Our big, beautiful house flowing with water, hot showers, working lights, and working doors. To my happy surprise, the few issues we saw that needed to be fixed were fixed immediately, without any arguing, false promises, wasted time, or shoddy workmanship. It was wonderful. God heard our prayers. We got our house.

We are still getting used to our new schedule and our new environment. We can walk to three out of our five projects now. When a project starts at 10am, we can leave at 9:30 instead of 8. When a project ends at 4, we are home by 4:30 and not by 6. The water runs everyday. Everything works. As a team, we can have our meetings at the house, meaning we can have meetings with our computers, account books, and craftsupplies all with us...making our meetings more effective. We can eat lunch at our house and not have to live on French fries for lunch everyday. And on weekends, we have visitors stop by. We have friends in the area who stop by just to visit, something we couldn't have at our old house cause it was too far away. And in case we don't want to cook, we can walk up the road and visit Java House for some tasty icecream and coffee. We are going to get spoiled with all this luxury.

This last Friday, in our huge new living room, we reviewed our lessons from the previous week on "Tests of Leadership" and I really laughed and rejoiced. We survived. God brought us through.

Then this week, we talked about "the Art of Delegation" and I laughed some more. Can you guess what lesson I needed to learn this week? I had better be careful what I teach next week.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Alphabet: teaching English to the Juvenile Boys

2011-01-20T09:46:00.002+03:00

“Welcome to your new English class!” I said very slowly and carefully, trying to annunciate every word as much as possible.

Around 12 boys sat looking at me with a very lost expression as I welcomed them. These boys are nearly all new to the juvenile home. They come from all sides of Kenya, but most are from deep, deep in the village. Some are supposed to be in 5th grade, others in 6th or 7th. Thankfully we didn’t have any in our group who were supposed to be in 8th grade. All the other new classes have them though.

I laid out the rules for the class and they continued looking lost until one boy raised his hand and explained, in Swahili, that he doesn’t know any English. That’s what I figured. The rest of the class, Nancy translated all that I had said into Swahili. The light bulbs came on and then they understood.

During this initial class, I figured we had better start with the basics of English. What is the most basic part of English? The alphabet. Nancy carefully wrote all the letters on the board. After carefully copying down all the English alphabet in their new exercise books, the boys then sounded out all the sounds. Then we started learning the different sounds that English vowels make.

After class, a boy from another class ran up to me and said in much more broken English than this, “I heard you are learning vowel sounds in this class. Can I join your class too?”

The past year EAC Kenya has been teaching English at the juvenile home. It’s a government run institution, with an actual school and facilities for learning skills like masonry, mechanics, agriculture, pottery, and even baking. Yet the teachers aren’t enough to go around to all the classes and subjects and so many days we come and find only one teacher teaching while boys in other classes are sitting idly.

That prompted us to try to impact the students in ways in addition to teaching Bible. In the mornings, we teach all the boys Bible but in the afternoons, we teach English. Through our interactions with these boys, we realized that the foundation of all their other courses is good English. Science is taught in English. Math is taught in English. History is taught in English. If a student doesn’t know English, they will be lost in all the other classes as well.

The past year, we have been learning how to teach these boys. We found them separated into classes: fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth grade. We began teaching them from text books from those levels. Yet after awhile, we came to realize that no matter how many times we tried to teach them the basics, the majority weren’t getting it. In addition, most kids came to class with no paper, no pen and no means of taking notes.

In September, I was convicted that I wanted to be more organized and more effective with my sixth grade boys. I bought them all pens and notebooks to use in class and then would carry them home each week to correct their work. This allowed me to grade their exercises and read their compositions and find out how much the boys were really learning. I was shocked when I found out. Many of my kids could barely compose a legible sentence, could barely read, and couldn’t identify a verb let alone an “adverb of time” that we were learning in our class. Other kids in our class could write a full page composition and read a chapter book with no problems.

I began to realize how ineffective our teaching strategy has been. In our different grade levels, new boys to the institution were thrown in according to their ages and not their level of education, making teaching a mess. When some of your students can’t even read and others just need to learn how to more effectively use commas and better vocabulary skills, where do you even start teaching class lessons?

I would see some boys so frustrated with not understanding and not knowing what to do. Some would just refuse to come to class, others faithfully came, but their work showed they did not know what they were doing and weren’t learning.

As a team, we decided to revamp our entire teaching strategy this year. As we kicked off our new year with the boys, in English class we gave every student a placement exam. The exam was very simple: reading comprehension, writing a simple composition, and testing grammar knowledge. I got the test material from a 4th grade exam book. I figured, since all the kids are supposed to be over 4th grade, it would be simple.

I was wrong. Of the 78 kids who took the exam, only 6 really passed. All the others got D’s and below. While grading the exams, we were really impressed by how the students struggled with it.

“No one my sixth grade class was doing so poorly! Most of them don’t know 4th grade material!” I thought to myself. It finally made sense.

We then separated the boys into new groups based on their knowledge instead of their ages. Five groups: the highest group is learning 5th grade material, the others are learning 4th, 3rd, and 2nd grade material and then there’s my group.

When we graded their exams, these were the kids that couldn’t answer more than 4 questions out of 64 correctly. One of my kids couldn’t even write what grade he is in. Most of them can write their names, but that is about it. On their exams, they left most questions blank, or just wrote random, nonsensical letters.

And can I tell you how overwhelmingly excited I am to get to teach these kids and try to make an impact in their lives? At least this week, those 12 kids have learned the difference between an “a” sound of “hat” and “take”. That’s only the beginning! Maybe by the time I finish with them, they will be able to write “cat”, “dog” and read a “See Spot Run” book. If we can manage that, then we’ve had success!

Especially if then next year, they move up into the next class and can learn what a noun is and what a verb is. Then if they move up to the next class and learn to write paragraphs and read more and more. Many of those kids will be in the institution for 3-4 years. A difference can be made if we are faithful in our work! With all these classes, I am excited to see the kids finally learning and finally getting taught in a way that makes sense to them. I only wish we could do more.

Besides our new English system, I had another random idea one morning a few months ago when I woke up thinking about storytime in 5th grade. Every Friday after lunch, our teacher used to read a novel to our class and we were all given the freedom to draw, color, or just sit and listen while he read. I loved it.

I figured we could try it with the boys at the juvenile home and see how they liked it too. Yesterday morning was our first run of it. Emma, Athena and I arrived an hour earlier than the rest of the team. A group of around 25 boys who liked the idea came into a class and shoved into the rough wooden desks. We passed out paper and markers, explained the rules of the class, and I began to read:

“Chapter One: Lucy Looks into the Wardrobe,” and I read them the first chapter of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe”. I had to change some words. Deer became antelope and passageways were called hallways. I had to explain what a lamp post and a professor is too.

Some of those kids I am sure were just there to draw and they very happily sat and drew. Other kids genuinely were listening to the story, as I discovered when I walked around and looked at pictures. A few of the kids had drawn the entire plot of the chapter I had read, labeling “Lusi,” “Edimund”, and “fonn” and drawing everything that had happened. Other kids wrote down all the new words they learned and what they meant. Even if only two kids out of the 25 get it, that’s enough for me to want to keep coming and reading to them more and more.

When EAC Kenya first started working with the juvenile home, I wasn’t very excited for ministry days or for working with these kids. As we’ve kept working with them, I have grown to love these boys and want to do more and more for them. Many are stubborn, rebellious, rude, and indifferent and can really give us a hard time. Others are very willing to learn and will soak up anything that’s given. Most have known more of rejection, pain, suffering, and the ugly things of life more than I have ever even imagined could exist. It’s a hard place to be for them. Sometimes leaving the home is even harder because they go back to a family that doesn’t want them.

One boy who was released talked to me before he left. The fear in his voice was evident. “I don’t know what I will do when I leave here,” he said. He’d been at the juvenile home for three years. He hadn’t been home in years. The prospect of the unknown was very daunting.

These boys can really give us a hard time. They steal pens like nothing else, refuse to sing songs, stubbornly refuse to play games sometimes and when they do play, cheat. They talk during teaching time, make dirty jokes in the back of class, and don’t want to follow directions. But if only one changes his life and leaves the home a better man with a knowledge of how God wants him to live, then it’s all worthwhile.

We’ve seen the change too. In more than one boy, they have been impacted and changed and seeds have been planted that can change their entire lives. That is why we will keep going and going.

Future Plans

2011-01-10T15:23:00.000+03:00

It’s another bright and sunshiney day here in Nairobi. It’s getting hotter by the day it seems, but that’s what always happens in January.

This week our team has been going through a series of meetings to prepare for the year. We have a lot to plan on and figure out. We are going to soon have 6 MSTs for a couple month span of time. That is a huge number, larger than we have ever had in the past. In addition, we are trying to set the foundation for our child sponsorship program so that it can launch within the next few months. We were also given a donation by a previous MST to build more classrooms at the primary school in Kibera we work with, paving the way to begin planning for our first building project. We are trying to revamp and reorganize our English lessons with the juvenile boys so that our time with them is more effective than is has ever been before. We are still searching for a house and still have a lot of administrative issues to reorganize. Then during March, Athena, Emma and I hope to join Rocky Peak’s mission team to Ethiopia.

On top of all this, I am starting to give more and more leadership and decision making over to our Kenyan staff. It is time for them to take ownership of this ministry. By September, they will have to fully be in charge of the ministry because by September, I need to leave Kenya. I never like the idea of leaving places. I always fight it at first and eventually have to accept it. This time especially. I will be leaving a large part of my heart behind me. But sometimes endings are necessary before you can have new beginnings.

Ivan and I have been starting the US visa process and developing plans for our wedding and future life together. There is a lot to think about and prepare for. Our first big event is May 28th in Kampala where we will be having our big engagement party (traditionally called the ‘introduction ceremony’). This is the big event before the actual wedding where both families are supposed to meet for the first time, the man gives the dowry, and before the whole congregation, the couple are blessed by the family and given permission to wed. After that ceremony, we aren’t married yet, just given permission to marry.
We are going to edit and alter ours a little (since I’m American and we do things a little different) but we are still excited to have our friends and family on this side of the world give our marriage their blessing (not to mention have an awesome dance party!) If any of you would like to come to Uganda in May and attend, you are most welcome!

After the introduction ceremony, I will be back to Kenya for my last marathon of EAC Kenya work. The summers are our busiest times and very important for training our team here to handle things on their own in future. Ivan, too, will be busy as he tries to finish up his final project to complete his BA in Social Work and Administration. The beginning of September, we hope to come to the US and prepare for a wedding in Los Angeles within a month or two after. We are looking forward to spending time with family and friends in the US very much.

After our wedding, we will have to spend a long time, up to 3 years, in the US sorting out the long, complex US visa process. Both of our hearts and callings lie in Africa. Ivan knows that his passion and calling is to continue in ministry in Uganda and so back to Uganda, we will both go. However, we also want to finish up all the US government red tape so that we have no issues in future. We are going to use those transition years to work and save money so we can be more established when we return to Uganda later. In addition, I am looking into pursuing my master’s in anthropology so I can possibly find jobs teaching anthropology at universities in Uganda. I genuinely loved the teaching I was able to do at the Bible institute and hope that more opportunities of such work will open up in future. We will see where else God leads us.

Now, as I have been discussing these plans with people, the most commonly asked questions I receive are:

-who will take your place as the leader of EAC Kenya?
-where will you live when you come back to the states?
-where will you work and how will you support yourselves?
-is it a for sure thing that Ivan will be able to get his visa?

To all these questions, I have to give the same answer: I don’t know. I don’t know, but God feeds the sparrows and knows the number of hairs on my head…He knows the answer to these questions too and I just have to trust Him. I wish I knew all the answers right now, but I don’t and I won’t for awhile. But I remember when I was preparing to coming to Africa in the summer of 2008, I had no idea what I would be doing, what organization I would be working with, or how I would be able to support myself. The answer was the same…God had a plan that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He still does and I have to trust Him (which is what I can say after many tears and sleepless nights and times of crying out in prayer). Trust is a journey and not an easy one at that and it’s one that God has especially been working on me lately. I am not good at peacefully and trustingly having my plans changed. I freak out first and really complain and make a lot of noise. Eventually God reminds me who is God and who my life belongs to…and my life is not my own. I was bought at a price and I now belong to the One who gave it all for me. That is what I have to constantly remind myself.

I am excited for this year and excited to see how God continues to grow and develop EAC Kenya. This is His ministry, not mine and He is the one to sustain it and grow it, not me. In so many areas of my life, God has been working on me to surrender and that is a tough process, but so necessary. His plans are bigger than mine and so I have to keep relying on Him and not myself.

So, dear friends, now you know the plans and goals that I have for the year 2011. I beg you to continue to keep EAC Kenya, EAC Uganda, our teams, our kids, and all of us in your prayers. Please pray for God to train my team to be able to manage on their own and that He would raise up a leader to take over in my place. Pray for a strong foundation to be established in this ministry. Pray for us to find a house, office, and develop the sponsorship program. Pray for Ivan’s visa process and our wedding plans. Pray for God to guide us and provide places for us to live and work in the US when we come and that these upcoming years would be great preparation for our future life in ministry together.

Thank you all so much for your continued support and prayers for us. I have been so blessed to be a part of what I have been a part of this past year and it has only been made possible because of all of you. May God bless you a thousand times over for the many ways you have blessed me!

Christmas in Uganda, New Years in Kenya

2011-01-01T19:53:00.000+03:00

Happy New Year everyone! I hope you all have a lot to look forward to this year and a lot to reflect on and rejoice over in this past year! I know I sure do! :) God is good, has been good, and will continue to be good throughout this next year.

I am finally back from Uganda. I spent a lovely Christmas break there with my fiancé and friends in Uganda. Our first week we spent in Ivan’s mom’s village in Nebbi, a district in Uganda that is almost in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and is so far away from Kampala that it feels like a whole different country. Nearly his entire extended family turned out to the village for the event because his cousin was having her introduction ceremony (i.e. traditional engagement party where the groom presents the dowry to the girl’s family and is given permission to marry her in the presence of the whole family).

It was an exciting week. The women of the village were very entertained having me there and really made me work hard. It took the entire village working to pull the ceremony off because everything had to be done from scratch (for example, the tent had to be made from tarps after poles were cut from the forest….the peanut sauce could only be made after the peanuts were first harvested, dried, shelled, hand ground, and then finally cooked….the water had to be fetched from the river and carried on heads back to the village, etc.).

The ceremony was a huge event and after the initial issues were resolved (i.e. first the sound system didn’t work, then the generator caught on fire), we had an all night dance party and a lot of fun. Everyone danced-from the tiny kids to the old grandmothers.

After visiting the village, we came back to Kampala and spent Christmas with Ivan’s family in Kampala. We decorated a tree that they cut down from the side of the road and covered their house with balloons. Then we came early on Christmas day to help cook for our feast of a lunch later on. They don’t do presents, just a lot of food and making the house pretty. It was a quiet, happy day, even though the weather was dismal and decided to rain the whole of the day. Rain on Christmas should be outlawed or something.

After Christmas, while EAC Uganda was heading to camp with their kids, Athena and I went straight to Nakuru to be bridesmaids in Amanda and Toby’s wedding. Amanda is a Canadian girl who worked with me in Kenya in 2005 on the AIM team. She officially married Toby, a Kenyan, two years ago but just had a court ceremony and finally had the big wedding. Amanda’s family from Canada came out for the celebration after saving money for three long years to be a part of it. It was a joyous celebration and everyone enjoyed. It was also a great time of reunion with old friends from our AIM team from so long ago. (For the AIM team…the Peez, Francis, and Bridget were all around and making a lot of noise).

Athena and I arrived back in Nairobi at just about midnight on New Years Eve/Day (depending on how you look at it). We got back just in time to hear people cheering and setting off fireworks. Try as I might, I couldn’t see the fireworks though. They were just tormenting me cruelly with their sound and not letting me see them. Next year I need to find out where to see fireworks.

Now that it is January 1st, 2011, I have been thoroughly happy for a day of quiet and rest. It’s been a lovely day of prayer, worship, meditation and reflecting on this past year. There is much to do and much to look forward to in 2011, but I am not going to tell you all about it now. No, you can’t make me tell you.….ha ha ha (mischievous laugh)…it’s a cliff hanger to make you eagerly await my next update on the edge of your seats! Never fear, I will fill you in all the details of what exciting, amazing, and wonderful things we have planned for EAC Kenya in 2011 and not only so but also in the riveting life of Tara Lynn Skarin. However, if I told you everything now, you would have less to look forward to so I am going to have self-control and make you all learn patience. ;)

In the meantime, I do have pictures for you. Lots and lots of pictures, cause I know you all want to see our Christmas bush, gingerbread houses, Amanda’s wedding dress, baboons, and Tara shelling peanuts. You are in luck, you can see all these and more online. Ah, the glory of technology!

For pictures from our Christmas in Uganda, you can see them at:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=262790&id=664174054&l=66c102f0ae

And pictures from Amanda and Toby’s wedding:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=262051&id=664174054&l=36d64102e5

Well, that’s enough of an update for now. May God bless you and guide you throughout this new year and may you never take for granted one day of life or one day of the lives of those around you.

Happy 1st Anniversary EAC Kenya!

2010-12-21T15:02:00.001+03:00

Christmas' in Kenya

2010-12-21T14:56:00.005+03:00

Christmas has come and gone in Kenya. Even though December 25th hasn’t yet reached us, as far as Christmas in EAC Kenya has concerned, we have finished.

We had a good run of it. Four Christmas parties for our kids. We were privileged to be able to hold Christmas programs at the juvenile home, the street boys home, a primary school in Kibera, and a children’s home in the village a few hours from Nairobi. Through donations by friends and family members, we have been able to buy shoes for all 104 juvenile kids and provide lunch for the kids at the street boys home, children’s home and primary school (i.e. feeding over 250 people during the course of 7 days). We were able to buy candy and beads for all the kids to do beadwork (which they were very excited about). We were also able to buy complete new outfits for all the 62 boys at the street kids home. Each kid could take off their grubby, torn, and hugely oversized or undersized clothes and put on a new pair of pants or shorts, a new shirt, and two new pairs of underwear, transforming them to finally look like kids again.

We also had enough leftover money to be able to provide means for a few of our juvenile home kids to go home for Christmas. Some of the boys who have been released already were still at the home because they didn’t have transport to go home. By providing them transport, they were able to go home and finally be reunited with their families again.

Overall, it was a fantastic month. The kids all got to learn what Christmas is really about and why Jesus came. They got to participate in our Christmas skits as sheep and angels and were all very happy to see the costumes. We had lots of Christmas games, songs, and crafts together as well.

My favorite part of the Christmas program by far was seeing how happy the streetboys were after lunch each day and seeing how nice they looked in their new clothes. They strutted around showing off their new clothes and feeling very good about themselves. Also, during our program with those kids, they were better behaved than we have ever seen them before. Since they were going to be fed and none wanted to be punished and miss food, they all paid attention, listened to directions, participated and were easier to work with than I’ve ever seen before.

We concluded our Christmas programs with a party for our staff and volunteers at the Carnivore (a fancy restaurant in Nairobi). Since Christmas time also happens to fall about the same time as our first anniversary as an organization, it worked out very well to have a joint celebration and really get dressed up and spiffy looking. Our whole team came and we spent an evening rejoicing in how far we’ve come and how far God has brought us. We remembered our first team meeting back when Martin was still shy and quiet and we were still trying to brainstorm the area we would target projects in and figuring out any connections to projects that we could come up with. We have come a long way and I can’t think of a better way to end the year than that. Now we all have a couple of weeks off to spend time with our friends and family and rest to prepare for our next year.

Currently, Athena and I are in Uganda spending some time with EAC Uganda, but those are stories for another time!

A Day of Thankfulness

2010-11-29T12:20:00.001+03:00

Our Thanksgiving morning was a grey, rainy morning. The perfect weather for staying inside and watching movies all day, which is what we did. Granted our Thanksgiving wasn’t on Thursday since Kenya hasn’t quite realized the amazingness of American holidays so there was no four day weekend. And since Thursday was full of our Christmas program, we decided to celebrate on Saturday instead.

Our Christmas program in the primary school was a successful one. We taught the kids the Christmas story as well as how it relates to the gospel to give them a fuller picture of why we celebrate Christmas. We spent two days with around 100 kids from the school doing teachings, skits, songs, crafts, and feeding them lunch every day. They made beaded necklaces, played ‘chubby bunny’ with bananas and crackers, learned how to sing ‘Away in a Manger’, and participated in our nativity skit as sheep and angels. It was a great week. In addition, we were blessed with a welcoming and grateful school administration, which made our work much easier.

By the time Saturday came, we were all thoroughly ready for a holiday. Since Thanksgiving isn’t a Kenyan holiday, we made it an Empower A Child holiday and called off projects for the day so we could celebrate as a ‘family’.

Preparations started the day before. While most of the team attended the end of year party for the juvenile home and supported our boys there, Athena and I disappeared early for the pre-Thanksgiving shopping preparations. It sounded easier in my head than it was in reality. After five separate trips to stores and markets, over four hours, and countless heavy bags to carry home (you really start planning out trips and how much you need to buy sugar, flour, milk, etc. all at once when you have to walk home and carry it all), Athena and I finally finished in an exhausted slump in the house. But we still managed to achieve victory in finding every ingredient we needed to prepare a traditional American meal.

The Americans split up the work of cooking between ourselves. Between Athena, the three Americans visiting us from EAC Uganda, and myself, we managed to cook all the basic dishes necessary for promoting thankfulness for Americans. Nevermind that most of us had never cooked these dishes before, we were determined.

Jolene and Kelsey managed buttermilk biscuits and a banaffie pie (condensed milk, chocolate, cookie crust and bananas). Craig made mashed potatoes and brown-sugar carrots and canned corn (a rare find, I had to really walk to find it). Athena made green bean casserole and an apple pie. I made a fruit salad (like how my mom makes with marshmallows, yogurt, coconut, apples, bananas and pineapple instead of our usual tropical fruit salad of pineapple, banana, papaya, passion fruit and mangoes). I also made the gravy , the stuffing, and the turkey.

Our turkey was an adventure. Since we did not know where to buy a whole turkey, Victor got us connections with a meat company who said they could deliver turkey to us. We ordered one package, assuming one package would be one turkey. Wrong. The package came full of five distinct turkey legs. Now, I like turkey legs, but you can’t stuff turkey legs and you can’t feed a house full of people with five turkey legs. Athena and I ran very fast to the super market and bought two little frozen chickens, which I stuffed and cooked along with the turkey legs. At least there was enough poultry to fill everyone (and leave leftovers for homemade chicken noodle soup Sunday night!)

We filled the house with Christmas music all day, everyone feeling just a little homesick as we thought of family and friends at home. Around 3pm our guests began arriving to fill our house with our new unique family, just as food began to get ready and the house was filled with the fragrance of baking turkey, herbs and biscuits.

Our five Kenyan staff members all came. Nancy brought her Kenyan/Dutch friend who was excited to have a break from Kenyan food. Amanda, our Canadian friend also came (even though they celebrate their Thanksgiving in October). Our new volunteer, Pauline, came and Martin brought his “son” Kahiga, giving us a total of 13 people.

We all had a lot to be thankful for this year. EAC Kenya has almost reached its first anniversary, not a small accomplishment and as we all reminisced on this past year and the goodness of the Lord, we couldn’t help but be encouraged by what the Lord has done for us. We have all learned and grown and been blessed both through the ministry we have been able to be a part of and the fellowship of other team members in our very unique little family that God has brought together.

Our family is growing too. On our bus ride home from Kampala a few weeks ago, while Nancy and I fought with the cold wind from broken doors and with double booked seats, Martin was busy making friends with the woman besides him on the bus. Pauline, a Kenyan, had just graduated from university in Kampala and had been told by a good Christian friend, “You need to get on a bus to Nairobi right away. On Sunday night, you need to be on a bus. When you are there, you are going to meet people that God wants you to be working with.”

Her friend kept calling her throughout the week to remind her, “You need to get on that bus!” So Pauline got on the bus that same day as our team and Martin started a friendly conversation that continued nearly the entire ride to Nairobi. He told her about what we do and who we are and she knew that we were the ones that God had meant for her to meet and work with. Now, we have a new volunteer and are encouraged that God would go so out of the way to make sure our team grows.

Our final addition to our Thanksgiving meal was Kahiga, Martin’s adopted “son”. Kahiga, painfully shy, was nonetheless happy to be with us, though he looked at the wall whenever someone talked to him.
Kahiga is a teenage boy from the juvenile home we work with. Martin and he have developed a close relationship all year and Martin has really worked hard to try to get Kahiga’s father back into his life. His father, however, had no interest and the boy has really struggled this year. Now that he has finished his exams (and so is supposed to leave the juvenile home and go to high school), he had nowhere to go. Martin arranged things with the juvenile home and has taken Kahiga home with him so he has a place to stay with hopes of being able to put him through high school.

Our hard work that day paid off. We had a truly American feast. It tasted just like home, no small accomplishment, let me tell you. While some of the Kenyans were wary about some of our funny looking foods, others tried all of them and thoroughly enjoyed. We were eternally grateful for Athena’s mom sending us money to pay for most of our feast so we could really go all out. You never know the next time we’ll have such a proper American meal.

Athena shared with everyone what the purpose of Thanksgiving is and why we celebrate it. We all shared what we are thankful for, and then feasted on pie. We have no dining table so everyone sat on the couches and overflowed onto the floor. We continued the Christmas music just because it seemed like the thing to do.

Sometimes the silly traditions from home, like carving pumpkins, Christmas trees, apple pies, and roasted marshmallows never become as important as when I am away from home. All the sudden these traditions become the ties that bind me to all that I have known and grown up with and become the things that reinforce that yes, I am still American. It’s important for no matter how long I stay in Africa, there is part of me that will remain American and I need to maintain those ties and keep up with the silly traditions, no matter how hard it is to find apples or how silly I look carving a pumpkin and not eating it.

It’s encouraging to me that even though I am so far from home and my family, I still have very dear friends in my life here and a new family. It was still very hard to be away from my family at home but celebrating with our team was the next best thing and my current family. And God is still at work and creating something beautiful though we can’t see all of His purposes yet. I have a lot to be thankful for this year.

EAC Kenya Learns Luganda: Our training in Uganda

2010-11-18T12:12:00.004+03:00

EAC Kenya finally met EAC Uganda. This was a joyous meeting, especially for me because I have been praying for this opportunity and fighting for this opportunity for the past six months.

God's timing is always best, though I may not agree at first. I original date I had for this training was back in April. I was sorely dissapointed when it got denied, only to later be thankful because when the desired dates came around, I was on crutches and in no place to be training my team.

I kept waiting and waiting, convinced more and more of the absolute vitality of our mission: to see EAC Uganda firsthand and have each of our staff trained by the Ugandan staff so they can run this ministry fully and as their own.

My next proposed date in September was also denied...and I found out the wisdom of this later. The Ugandan administrator went on maternity leave just before that date and she was one of the key people we needed training from.

The day I heard our trip was finally approved, I was exuberant and told everyone in the house out of excitement, "we are going to Uganda!!!!!"

And we went. Our whole team went to Uganda for ten days this November. It was so so good for us.

I went a few weeks early to work on some other logistical things I had to work on. Our team has grown a lot. My absence for three weeks really showed this because while I was missed, there were no major mishaps and the ministry kept running. That's a very encouraging sign.

A very excited team met me in the driveway of our house in Ntinda early Saturday morning. Full of stories and ready to see everything in Uganda, most didn't even want a nap after the long bus ride.

Each day brought new adventures and new things to see. "Everything in Uganda is so big! The houses are big, the papayas are big, the pineapples are big!

The Kenyans really laughed when they went to the cultural center to see traditional Ugandan dancing. "How do they dance like that?" they said, and made fun of it all week. Being in a new place with a new culture and a new language was a good learning experience for everyone.

I never realized how much difference there really is between the two countries until I saw the Kenyans' reactions to the daily things we saw on the streets.

We had a great week. We ate jack fruit and rolexes, went out for pork, bought g'nut powder (grounded peanuts), cooked Kenyan food for the MSTs at the house, and had many adventures. We went to all projects, built goat sheds for families in the village, and had trainings with all key Ugandan staff members. They gave us lots of good histories, advice, and training about how EAC Uganda works.

Everyone came home with lots of lessons. We learned a lot from EAC Uganda-about working together on a team, about respect for team leaders and department leaders, about keeping time, about the challenges of working with an international team, about village missions, about how much room we have for growth and how much farther we have to go.

I am thankful we had the opportunity. Now we are back in Kenya and preparing for a busy month. This month we are planning Christmas parties with three of our main projects-a primary school, the juvenile home, and the home for street kids. My mom and her pilates class graciously raised $500 for us to buy clothes and shoes for our kids. Instead of just giving them out we are planning 2-3 day VBS-like programs to teach the kids about why Jesus came and what Christmas really means and then giving them their presents. Lord-willing, we will also be feeding them lunch as well. It should be a lot of fun.

Three American MSTs from the Uganda team came this week to see Kenya. The extra hands will be most useful during our Christmas programs and we are making sure to find a turkey somewhere so we can have a proper thanksgiving this weekend.

Our search for a house is proving exceedingly elusive and a lot of hard work. Please keep us in your prayers as we keep searching for a house.

Please pray for our Christmas programs as well!

For pictures from the week: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=248699&id=664174054&l=dbc89608ba

A Thank You Letter

2010-11-18T12:07:00.004+03:00

Dear Empower Child

Hey friends first is to greet you with all my heart. am so happy because when i come you advise me But you are like my brothers and sisters. What i would like to say to you all is to thank you. But God neve sleep he will bless you all because I can't even explain for what I am. Because when the day I came here I was like a rude boy. I could even steal something from other people But this time I can't even think to do that because of you advice you me with all your heart and kindness.

But before I go home I would like to talk to you all please. To advise me what I will start my life at home. The Empower Chlid is a great living stone because you advice children and people. I was a foolish builder but now am wise builder. But one day I will meet one of you but I will be very happy.

Bye,

Simon

Boy from Juvenile Home we visit every Weds.

A Light in Dark Places: Encouragement

2010-11-02T13:47:00.001+03:00

I spent the morning today being shadowed by Louis, the son of our housecleaner. He’s four now. The last time I was here, six months ago, “good morning” was about the extent of his English. He would shadow me around the compound babbling happily in Luganda. Today he still shadowed me, but he shocked me by now speaking entirely in English. We talked all about what kinds of foods he likes to eat, what I was working on on my computer, where my dad lives, and he showed me how he can count to ten on his fingers.

“Louis, what comes after ten?”

He looked at his fingers very carefully. “I don’t know. I don’t have any more fingers,” he answered.

“Count your toes,” I told him. He did, but they were in sandals so he only got to nine and then stopped.

“No, Louis, you have to have ten toes. Try again.” He took off his shoes and tried again. He got ten this time.

He was very excited when we talked to my dad on Skype. He happily asked what to draw and what colors to use while I wrote my monthly report. Then he painted my hand with gold paint and decided to sit on me while I tried to start putting pictures on Facebook.

Louis is learning English at school. It’s working. I started wondering if this was the same kid I knew before. The amount he’s learned in just the past year amazes me. And he’s going to school because he’s on our sponsorship program.

Our sponsorship program is growing exponentially. Now they have 165 kids on the program. The waiting list is almost through and new kids will soon be recruited. That’s 165 kids that may not have had a chance to go to school otherwise. It’s a joy to me to see kids around who I worked on to put them on the waiting list around because they now have sponsors. It’s taken over a year, but they finally got on the program.

Lately, I had been getting a little discouraged from seeing how worn out our staff are here and hearing the neverending complaints of MSTs. Then there’s the discouragement from the endless office work, cleaning, and constant break down of things around the house. Finally, I gave up on my office work and decided to go back to projects. It was a good decision. All the sudden I was reminded of why I do the office work and try to keep up with the daily chaos of work with EAC. Even if things may be crazy and irritating sometimes, in the end, the ministry to the kids makes it all worthwhile.

Yesterday Craig, an MST from Michigan, gave us an update on a new program EAC Uganda has started. During our Thursday afternoon programs at Remand Home, the kids used to complain to us about how they kept missing court dates. Each time they miss a court date, they have to wait another month or two or three for another opportunity. Until they go to court, they cannot get released and go back to home and normal life.

We investigated. Why are they missing court dates? No transport to take them to court. Where is the money to fix the van or buy fuel? Nobody knows, but with government projects, you usually can guess pretty well.

So instead of leaving the kids to spend months and months of unnecessary time in Remand, EAC started a program to get the kids to court. Craig is sent to the home with money and then he accompanies the kids and the matron to the gas station and to the court to make sure they get there. This also gives him the opportunity to encourage the kids while they anxiously await their verdict.

This last week because of the program, seven kids were able to get released and sent home. On Thursday, during small group time, multiple kids told Craig, “Thanks so much for helping us go to court. Because we went, this next time I go, I will get released and be able to go home.”

Ivan was encouraging the team this week, “If you are at a project and you see something that isn’t done well or could be fixed, do what it takes to make it better!” It’s true. There are many little things that we can do practically every day to help people and help overcome injustices and things that aren’t right.

Another school we work with in Kampala is in a deeply impoverished area. Whenever our team comes, a flock of tiny children swamp us, hanging off of our arms, legs, waists, feet, faces beaming with huge smiles. We feed them porridge every time we go, which they are happy to receive. During our teaching time, the kids split up by age into the tiny little school. The preschoolers go into a room with a rough dirt floor. It gets filled with dust from the rough dirt floors and coats everything and everyone with dust each class time. This really bothered the girls and they made a decision to fix it. They decided to donate the money necessary to cement the floor. This will keep things cleaner and prevent the kids from getting chiggers in the classroom (chiggers are these ugly little wormy things that will burrow into feet and hands, take up residence and live there, multiplying and eating flesh…super gross). So on Friday we will go to the school and as a team cement the floors.

In Kibera, we work with a new little school for some of the poorest of the poor kids in the slum. The school was started by a sweet Christian grandmother after the post-election violence. She saw all the children who were out of school and had no one to provide for them and she decided to start a school. She had no funding, just a desire to help. Slowly by slowly, God has built up a school through random people and organizations He has brought to her. The government has given her permission to operate, which has helped her keep going even as some people around were trying to shut her down.

The school has grown. Now they have preschool through sixth grade there and around 250 kids. Yet, parts of the school are in dire need of repairs. Rough stick and mud structures were damaged during a bad rain and flooding season. It’s the one patch of “clean” dirt in the area. They work hard to keep trash off the compound and make it a nice little school, but their kitchen is a mess and they need more classes for the quickly growing school.

When we started working with the school, we made clear “we do not bring any kind of financial assistance or promises of financial assistance.” The founder replied, “I understand. We will just appreciate your work with our children. God will bring us people who will help us in His own way. You may not, but maybe someone who comes through you will have it on their heart.”

Sure enough, I got an email from an MST we had for six weeks in Kenya. During her time with us, God really laid on her heart to help the primary school we work with in Kibera. Her mom’s school is raising money to build them classrooms.

With all the issues and conflicts that MSTs have sometimes, it makes me get super discouraged at times. Yesterday we had a big meeting with our staff discussing issues and how to resolve things well. Then in the evening, I got an email from one our MSTs we had come to Kenya this summer. It entirely made my day. During his time with us, he really had a hard time with having no showers and missing some of his “creature comforts”. While he may have complained a bit while with us, when he went home, God has really been working on his life and now he’s missing Africa. He’s realized that the things he missed from home really weren’t that worthwhile. He wants to come back again for a longer time and do more.

His email drastically encouraged me. First off, it reminded me that while our young MSTs may complain all day and all night about anything and everything, in the end, God may change their hearts. While they are with us, it is just one step along the way in their various stages of growth and God is in the process of preparing them for future ministries and areas of influence. This just reminded me of the grace that we have to show MSTs when they are with us and how besides ministry to our kids, that itself is a ministry. We may have the privilege of encouraging and growing these young people who will some day be missionaries and pastors and leaders all over the world, and we have the privilege of leaving footsteps on their lives that may impact other people’s lives someday somewhere else too.

So, in conclusion of it all, while I may have days I get a bit down and discouraged, this week God has really encouraged me and shown me some fruit and some of the good things that He is doing in us and with us and through us. The influence of one person may seem small, but when that one person is a part of a greater work with many other people, the influence has immeasurable effects. God knows what He is up to, even when we don’t. More dark days may come but may He always come through with His light to encourage me and show me the workings of His sweet and steadfast hands.

For some random pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=244545&id=664174054&l=c950913db5

Prayer Requests

2010-11-02T13:46:00.002+03:00

I am back in beautiful Uganda right smack in the middle of the rainy season (meaning the country sees torrential downpours everyday and the consequential rivers of mud that accompany the downpour and remain well after the rain has stopped).

I have been very grateful to spend time with the team here. I've been hard at work working on our organization's constitution so I can begin the long process of registration. It's a lot of legal mumble jumble and stuff I don't fully understand but I hope I'm getting somewhere. I should have a lot more to do in my next couple of weeks here. Please pray that God gives me wisdom in how to do all this!

The team here in Uganda is still very busy with around 7 MSTs, an unheard of number for this time of year. Our whole team was very saddened yesterday by the tragic death of Douglas' daughter. Douglas, one of our Ugandan volunteers who just married last year had a nine month old daughter who was very beloved by all. He was complaining on Monday that she was feeling sick. Tuesday he said the doctors confirmed she had malaria. Yesterday we received a call that she had suddenly and mysteriously died in his arms. Our whole team went to visit him and his wife who were, very understandably, quite devestated. Please keep them in your prayers! The burial is today.

One more prayer request: please pray that our Kenya team finds a new house! Nancy and Victor are hard at work looking around for a new one but so far the houses are all much more expensive than we can afford but our house requires us to be officially moved out by november 30th. We really need a miracle on this one! Please pray that God provides us with a nice house in a secure neighborhood that is close to our projects that we can afford that has water at least once a week! This is super important!

Street Boys

2010-10-11T16:59:00.003+03:00

I went running the other day. My scar started to ache again. It’s been over six months since I was hit by the car, but sometimes wounds are enduring. I am healed, for the most part. My grapefruit sized lumps have dwindled into almost unnoticeable lumps and lines. My cut has transformed into a three inch long massive purple scar on my calf. It’s only rarely that I feel pain nowadays. But sometimes, they still ache and I doubt the scar will ever get smaller.

We have finally gained entry into a home for street kids run by the City Council of Nairobi. It’s a little place next to a football field by Toi market. At one point it was probably a community hall but now it’s a home for boys who have no home. We really worked to get permission to help out with the centre, but it was well worth the effort. My heart is greatly moved whenever we spend time with those boys and there is much work to be done there.

On Saturday, we cleaned the centre. With between 40-50 teenage and pre-teenage boys with no mothers and no soap, to say it was in need of a cleaning is an understatement. The walls were smudged with handprints from dirty fingers and stamped with impressions from muddy soccer balls. The floor was veiled in a thick layer of dirt and mud and the dorm room looked like it had been collecting grime for weeks (though the children claimed they washed the floor the day before).

Our team came with 10 liters of soap and four brooms, ready to scrub and scour. When we entered the compound that morning, the kids greeted us with choruses of “Do you want to know me?” Glad to see we are making an impact at least through songs! The compound attendant got us old blankets to use as rags and the boys began to carry in buckets and broken basins full of water. Our team split up along with the kids to oversee and help with the work and we all really worked. The kids slowly started trickling in, happy to be doing something out of the ordinary.

It took over two hours to clean the centre, even with the dozens of helpers in place to facilitate the work. It didn’t help that our “helpers” were easily distracted by the endless possibilities of soap. Water began to pour on friends, not just on the floor, and kids ran around singing, rapping, and dancing happily. Soon the main hall was transformed into a massive “slippin’ slide” with the kids running and diving and sliding on the concrete floor. Then they began to bathe themselves with the soapy water. We didn’t stop them. Heavens knows how badly those kids needed to bathe and how long it has been since they bathed last. At least it would help with the smell.

We have started going to the centre every Thursday afternoon where we teach stories to the kids, do songs, games, and small group discussions. The kids have attention spans smaller than fruit flies so we have to carefully plan and condense all our teachings. Games work very well. Short stories keep them around, but any teaching longer than ten minutes loses ¾ of our audience. During small group times, most of the kids run away in search of more entertaining things to do. Yet for the few that stay, it’s all worthwhile.

Each week, we notice a few of the kids are definitely high. They are scantily clad in rags and bare feet or broken shoes. They are dirty and their hair uncombed. Some kids may have gone to school and speak good English, other kids have never been to school in their lives.

During small groups last week, I got to know a few of the kids a little better. One kid had a father who loved him very much and paid his school fees and took care of him. When his father died, his stepmother chased him out of the house. In another group, not a single kid in the group has a father.

The kids come from all different backgrounds and walks of life. The thing with street kids is that something had to bring them to live on the streets-either they were chased away or they ran away. During their time on the streets, they have to learn how to survive in any way possible and grow up very fast. With first glance, you can never tell if a kid is a child or an adult. A tiny boy may have learned to be an “adult” during their time on the streets.

Whatever they have seen or experienced, it will take time to heal. Some of the street kids may never get off the streets entirely. Some may be reunited to their families, finish school and live a “normal” life again. I have some adult friends who are former street boys. They are intelligent, charming, and fun to be around. You may never know of their background from first meeting them. Yet, once they start telling stories, you can tell, whatever they have seen or experienced, has left a scar that may never fully heal. It may, from time to time, be a dull ache or pain that reminds them of their past and where they have come from.

A Good Week

2010-09-27T13:13:00.001+03:00

Well, it's another bright and sunny day in Nairobi. The cold season is finally over and the hot season is beginning. It will continue to heat up till its climax in January. Then it will be really hot. till then, it's still pleasantly warm.

Our household danced and rejoiced yesterday when running water finally came back-after being gone nearly 6 weeks. Our tank is now full and we can wash clothes without fear of using up all the water and having to fetch the water cart man. In celebration of the event, I washed all my dirty clothes and cleaned and mopped my room. It was a national holiday for EAC Kenya, let me tell you. We really missed water.

I have my big Swahili final exam tomorrow that I am struggling to gather motivation to study for. If I pass, I will have officially completed Swahili level 1 1/2 (I was too advanced for level 1, but not quite advanced enough for level 2, so my teacher gave me 1 1/2). But that's if I pass and passing involves studying and studying involves thinking and today is Monday. Monday is my day off and I would rather not think today. Yet I know I must discipline myself and study, which is what I will do the moment I finish writing this update.

Projects have been carrying on very well. Our two new projects-a home for street boys and a primary school in Kibera, have started well and we are praying that we are able to form good relationships with both the kids and the administrations and really make an impact. I was encouraged this week when we found one of our favorite Blue House pupils has switched to Gifted Hands, the new school we are working at. At least we get to see one of our dear students even if we still havent worked things out with Blue House yet.

We have a new girl now, a young girl from Florida named Athena. She is supposed to stay with us for a year and that's a very long time. We are praying that works out well too! So far she seems good. Since she's staying for a year, she has the capacity of really getting to know our team and projects and being very helpful.

The final important bit of news is that I am engaged! :) My boyfriend came last weekend to surprise me and he officially proposed. It was a lovely weekend. We want to have the official wedding in California next fall sometime (the date will be determined later...depends on how well the visa process goes for him). In the meantime, we are going to have the Introduction Ceremony in Uganda on May 28th. (Introduction Ceremony is the formal engagement of the couple where both families gather and agree for the couple to wed, the dowry is given, and the families offically meet. It's an important Ugandan custom, just as important as the wedding.) More information on all this will come in future!

For the next few months till then, Ivan is finishing up school. When he finishes, he's going to help me out in Kenya for awhile. After we marry and after I have trained up the Kenyans to run EAC Kenya, then we will go back to Uganda to continue work there. In the meantime, I still have a lot of work to do in Kenya!

Please continue to keep EAC Kenya and our team in your prayers!

Prayer requests:

-Registration process to go well for EAC Kenya
-we need to find a different house...pray God opens doors for a house closer to projects with good security and much more water!
-pray for our new MST to find her niche and be an important part of the team
-pray for continued unity and growth on our team.
-pray for an impact to be made at projects and in the lives of the children with whom we are working. Pray for doors to be opened at new projects too.

Ethiopia

2010-09-16T18:09:00.000+03:00

Well, I am back from Ethiopia, safe and sound. I thoroughly enjoyed my time visiting Teki and hearing about the ministry in Ethiopia. Also, Ethiopia is such a beautifully unique country. Spending time there provided a much needed change of scenery and perspective. I spent the weekend enjoying their traditional food, making new friends, and drinking lots of rich coffee. And, yes, I brought Tigranya honey back with me…a whole lot of it and wow is it good on chapati! Also, my Kenyan visa is now renewed so I should be good to stay in Kenya another six months.

Now I am back to work as usual. We have one Canadian girl out right now and she’s been awesome. We have an American girl coming this week. She’s supposed to stay for a year.

Schools have reopened, putting us back into our usual weekly schedule. At the juvenile home, I have been trying to take a more organized approach to teaching my sixth grade class. I bought them paper and pens and am forcing them to write me paragraphs each week. That way I can grade them and see what they know. They are a funny bunch. Some are very bright and some can’t write in English to save their lives. That makes it a bit challenging for me to know how to teach them.

We have yet to sort things out with Blue House so we have been finding new projects to be a part of in the meantime. One day, I was praying about projects and asking God to show us the way forward. Then that same day, the teachers at the preschool we work at requested we don’t work with their children this term so that they can spend more time teaching the children. I considered that a big answer to prayer. Then the City Council of Nairobi gave us permission to work in a government home for street kids-another answer to prayer. We are trusting that God continues to open and close doors at the projects we are supposed to work with and not supposed to work with. I realized-they all belong to Him anyway. It’s not our work and expertise, it’s all about God showing us where He wants us to be.

Our executive director paid us a visit last week to check up on us and see how things were going. We had a pleasant visit and ate a lot of nyama choma (bbq meat). He filled us in about how the ministry is doing as a whole, his vision for the future, and the way forward. (In other words, I have a lot more to work on!)

I accidentally adopted a cat. I’ve been saying for years how I want a cat but know that I shouldn’t have one at this very nomadic stage of life. Then last week a tiny kitten was found outside my house and no one knew where the mother is or who the cat belongs to. She stayed out there the whole day till it was night and I couldn’t let her starve and get eaten by dogs or anything so I brought her home to live in my bathroom. We named her “Sophie” and she’s been growing rapidly and feeling very comfortable in her new home. We are going to look for a home for her, but until we find one, I have a cat stalking me everywhere I walk to in the house.

Well, that’s the news from EAC Kenya.

Please keep us in prayer!
Prayer requests:
-For the kids at the juvenile home to really learn and grow and have their hearts softened.
-for our teachings to be relevant and impactful in the lives of the kids
-wisdom for me as I try to lead this team
-for God to continue to open and close doors and projects and lead us where He wants us
-for unity in our team and continued growth

VBS Week 2: Juvenile Home

2010-09-06T17:39:00.003+03:00

Far in the outskirts of Nairobi, so far it is more village than city, there is nestled in between agricultural fields a government centre for teenage boys. There boys who have been rejected by their families, have run away from home, have been unruly at home, or have gotten into some kind of problems, stay and have a place to stay, a school to go to, and a chance to learn agriculture, mechanics, masonry, and other useful skills.

For our second week of VBS, our team came to spend time with the boys at the centre. Notoriously stubborn, we were not sure how they would react. Many days we have come and some refuse to sing songs, play games, and participate in programs.

Our first day, the kids poured into the main hall excitedly. It was the month of their holiday from school and so any activity going on was a welcomed change of pace and source of entertainment. As we started, Ivan had a hard job of trying to liven up the crowd and get them all to participate and get into activities. While most of the kids would join in cheering and yelling and singing songs, inevitably there were those boys in the back who refused. You know those ones…usually the older ones, the ones that sit in the back and pretend they are too cool for whatever is going on around them.

Yet most of the kids joined in and were ready for cheering competitions, making melodies, and having a good time. Those ones, the ones that do want to participate, the ones that do listen, the ones that want to be there, those are the ones we come for. We can get so discouraged sometimes by all the ones that don’t care that we forget about the precious few that do. It’s like the parable of the seeds. Some will bear fruit, but most won’t.

Also, we only had 100 kids to deal with, a much easier number of kids for our team. In contrast with our previous week of VBS, this week we had ample space to work in. Instead of a dusty strip of land, here we had lovely grass lawns covering acres and acres of the centre. We had no shortage of space for the kids to play and we didn’t end up so dirty each day.

Games were a little hard cause the kids cheated. They haven’t quite figured out what it means to play by the rules yet. That makes determining winners and losers a bit harder. On the day we had our eating contest, we found a kid had stuffed his bread in his pocket in an attempt to win. Needless to say, he didn’t win.

Those kids love beads. They can spend the entire day doing beadwork. Every time we come, one or two kids comes up to me and asks for beads. This time, we decided to use the occasion to give every kid beads who wanted beads. During the art workshop, all kids who wanted beads were able to get beads. Then the following days, we saw the kids doing beadwork nonstop, even to the point of ditching our meetings cause all they wanted to do was beadwork. Yet they made amazing creations.

Our last day was our grand finale of the week. We shared the gospel with the kids. Around 30 made a decision to follow Christ and make Him their life. That was our whole reason for coming, for playing football, for teaching, for having water games and eating contests.

After our time of teaching, we let the kids put on a talent show where they competed in reciting poems, dancing, doing dramas, sports prowess, telling jokes, and doing imitations. Those kids blew us away with their many talents. We had a hard time choosing winners because they were all so talented. We also had kids bring their drawings, beadwork, ceramic work, and any other visual arts for display before their peers. We tried to award as many kids as we could for their many talents.

It was supposed to be a half day program. It was supposed to be a short day. Yet by the time we finished the talent show and finished giving away gifts to the winners, and had our lunch, the kids still wanted to hang out and so did the team. The kids insisted on embarking on a long modeling session with Jane and Cy’s cameras.

“Take my picha! Take my picha!” they all shouted and vied for the spotlight.

It was a welcome encouragement when the head teacher and other workers at the centre thanked us for coming and appreciated all the work we did that week. They even sent away other groups who wanted to come that week. “this other group booked this week first,” they were told, and we were allowed to have the whole week with the kids. At the end, the teachers asked when we would be coming again. This blessed our team so much.

I know that when you are serving in ministry, you are serving God, not people, and abuse and maltreatment are to be expected, however it is always nicer when you receive thanks and work with grateful people. It was a much needed encouragement from the previous week’s unhappy ending.

The kids enjoyed. Our team enjoyed. The week was more than successful. Now we have experience and ideas that we can put into practice next time we do VBS. Lord willing there will be a next time and it will be even better than this time!

For more pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=206795&id=664174054&l=e9f2db49e3

VBS Week 1: Blue House

2010-08-30T14:29:00.003+03:00

Ministry has all kinds of seasons. Seasons of joy, seasons of disappointment. Seasons of open doors and seasons of closed doors. There are winters, springs, summers, and falls. There are times when I am on a spiritual high and amazed at the work God is doing and convinced I’m in the right place. There are other times when I am exceedingly discouraged and wondering why I am where I am and why I am doing what I am doing.

One of our biggest challenges in ministry lately hasn’t been working with the kids. The kids are welcoming, endearing, and receptive (for the most part). Of course we have the stubborn kids who mess around in class, make a lot of noise, and refuse to follow instructions, but they are easy to deal with. Our hardest part of ministry lately has been dealing with administrations at projects. The leaders, founders, overseers, and teachers of the projects are the ones that give us the hardest time. They can prove to be the biggest discouragement and closed door for ministry for our team.

We’ve been planning for VBS for nearly two months. The past three weeks have been dedicated exclusively for VBS planning, preparing, and for two weeks with the kids. Our first week started out wonderfully, though with a lot of challenges. We held our first week of VBS at Blue House (or the new location of Blue House…though I guess it’s not really called Blue House anymore). Never having put on something like this as a team before, we had to really work to prepare for it. We had to put it all together from scratch and as usual in ministry in Africa, it’s nearly impossible to plan things properly beforehand. Like this time, we were preparing for our usual bunch of 60-80 kids that we have at our weekly Saturday program. We figured our first week would be the lighter week while the second week at Kabete would be much more difficult.

Then it happened. When Victor went to check with the school four days before starting and make sure all things were ok, he was informed we would have two schools instead of one. Instead of just have the kids from Calvary we would have the kids from both Calvary Primary School and New Adventures School, meaning 200 or more children. We had to go back to the drawing board as a team to replan games, teachings, groups, etc. Would that many kids even fit in the space used as a main hall? How would we control that many kids? How would we feed that many kids? How would we buy enough prizes and art supplies for that many kids?

God provided, as usual. My mom, out of nowhere, said she wanted to donate $100 for VBS, meaning we would have the extra funds necessary to buy food, art supplies, candy, and prizes to make it a special week for all the kids involved. Then, our team called friends from around who have experience with children’s ministry and would be interested in volunteering. This doubled the size of our team (our team is six) and brought a whole range of gifts, talents, and manpower necessary for managing and loving on that number of kids.

The space of the school itself is tiny. Two schools and a church manage to share a compound about the same size as my house in Chatsworth. Yet, thankfully, all the kids managed to squeeze into the “main hall” (aka patch of dirt with a roof in between classrooms where the church meets Sundays). And by squeeze, I really mean squeeze. Kids pulled desks out of classrooms, filled up the space, and fit as many people as they could per desk.

When it came to controlling the kids and making them pay attention, God also came through and brought us the help we needed. Ivan came from Uganda to help us with VBS. He has a gift of magically controlling crowds of people and not only making them pay attention, but making them enjoy the day and preparing them for learning. We call it coordinating, or being the MC and running the program. Ivan is able to make the kids all noisy, yelling, dancing, jumping, and singing, and then all the sudden making them quiet and ready to listen to instructions and teaching. This was invaluable for our week with the kids.

The kids came excited for the week. Before the week even started, kids at the school were talking about it and looking forward to it. When the big day came and we started, the kids came ready for a good time. Consecutive days saw more and more kids show up to take part in the fun.

Our first day of VBS was chaos. We had to figure out where to meet, how to set up the hall, where to hold workshops, where to have games, how to fill up water balloons, who was in charge where, how to feed the kids in an orderly manner, where to find electricity, etc. (not easy tasks in the slum, let me tell you). The day saw Tara running up and down stairs, sorting prizes, teachers, schedules, and programs. Consecutive days we got a schedule down and were better and better organized.

We had all ages-tiny, cherub faced little three year olds up to nearly adult looking 8th graders (some who are probably 17 years old or even older). The age range itself was a challenge because we had to come up with multiple lessons and games and crafts in order to involve all age groups. Origami paper boxes might work for 10 year olds, but not 3 year olds. A game of limbo isn’t very fair if a nearly 6ft tall 8th grader is competing with a barely 4ft tall 2nd grader. Older kids can manage to take themselves on the 10 minute maze-like walk to the sports field, but the preschoolers will need help. A memory verse for the babies will be different from a memory verse for the big ones, etc.

We tried to tie the theme of the day into all the games we played. Our themes ran like this: 1.) God is my Water 2.) God is my Food 3.) God is my Light 4.) God is my Life. So, for example, day one, we played water games in the field and threw water balloons at the kids in the hall to wake them up. They memorized ps 42:1-2 (As a deer pants for streams of water so my soul pants for you oh God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God, when can I go and meet with God?) and we had a drama about the Samaritan woman who met Jesus at the well. Each day followed in a similar manner.

One morning, when we arrived early to set up, kids peeked out of their classroom and started shouting the themes of each day “God is my water”, “God is my food”. Then they anxiously looked as I set up our banner of the day, to see that day’s theme. Then they hurried to go and share it with their friends. “God is my light! God is my light!” Around the corner in another classroom, kids were practicing their memory verses from the previous days so they could win a prize in class that day. They will remember those themes for a long, long time.

Each day a kitchen crew was hard at work making enough food for the masses. This is a momentous task when you consider they were cooking on firewood stoves, using pots that take two men to lift when empty, and stirring with wooden spoons that more closely resembled oars than spoons. Each day, the onions had to be chopped, the carrots grated, the garlic minced, and the tomatoes pulverized. Yet each day the mighty kitchen crew managed to turn out a delicious masterpiece that was enough to feed every kid, teacher, and volunteer around.

After lunch, the kids got to choose a workshop to attend. They could choose to go to play sports in the field (ie patch of dirt by the do’s office), do crafts, learn to dance, learn to sing, or learn a drama. By far, dance and sports were the most popular. The kids could dance and play football the whole day. Our craft workshop had mainly the younger kids-all very excited to do crafts. I have never heard a classroom so quiet as when we set the kids to work drawing pictures and painting. Throughout the week, we did beadwork, drawing, origami boxes, and leaf stamps. The kids happily worked creatively each afternoon.

For our team, days were long and exhausting. Ivan and I had to leave the house each morning at 6:30am in order to be at the school in time to set up and prepare for our team meeting with all our staff and volunteers. We finished each day after 3pm and often had to run errands in town, meaning we wouldn’t reach home till around 6pm. As soon as we were home, I had to pack and prepare all our supplies for the next day, finishing just in time to eat and sleep and start all over the next morning. By the end of it, I realized what madness it was to try to do two weeks of VBS in a row. Next time, we will have to do one at a time! But God’s grace is sufficient. We enjoyed our days and we completed them, and when you get that tired, you know you’ve really worked.

Sadly, the week didn’t end quite as well as it started. We arrived on our last day, (Day 4, God is my life) prepared to hold a talent show for the kids. They were going to show all the dances and dramas they had learned in their workshops as well as show other talents they have. It was also going to be the day we tied all the messages together and shared the gospel with the kids and gave them a chance to respond.

Yet, when we arrived that day, we found the gate closed, the classrooms locked, and no kids in sight. There were some stray desks and some candy wrappers on the dirt floor, but nothing else. All our team looked at each other in shock and extreme disappointment.

We had been warned two days earlier that the pastor was to have “potential donors” coming. He warned us many months ago that anytime he has potential donors or donors coming, we have to disappear (because we have white people and the sight of white people will repel all potential donors from wanting to give money). At the time I did not agree with his logic at all (if God wants someone to give money to a program and wants it to succeed, I don’t think the sight of any white, black, blue or green person should discourage a donor), however we agreed because it’s not our school and we want to work with those kids. And usually, for our Saturday programs, it’s not a big deal. It just means our team gets a Saturday free and the kids at the school don’t get lunch that day while the potential sponsors come, walk around, greet the kids, and leave.

But this wasn’t a Saturday program. This was VBS. We asked permission for this week with the kids a full month in advance. We invested extra money and resources, planned this for weeks, and had already told the kids we would be there. That was our last day with the kids, our most important day. We couldn’t just not finish our program just cause of the color of our skin.

The pastor made it quite clear. He is doing us a favor by letting us be there, we are not doing him a favor by being there. It’s by his grace and mercy we are let in and any time he can send us away if he so desire. The school needs funding and money more so than the kids need to hear the gospel. Our program was unnecessary.

We finally came up with a compromise. We agreed that our team would disappear that last morning and instead arrive promptly at 1pm, well after the potential donors would be gone. Then we could finish our program and the donors would remain undisturbed by the traumatizing sight of other white people. I wasn’t disappointed to get to sleep in and wake up at 8am instead of 5am either.
Yet we were more than surprised to arrive that day and find no children.

“The visitors came this morning and then the kids were chased away by the teachers” we were told by the compound attendant. “They told the kids you weren’t coming and the kids were very sad.”

Our team looked at each other with downcast faces. The teachers knew darn well we were supposed to come.

There was much confusion over who was to blame-the pastor, the teachers, or both. The main conclusion of the matter- they didn’t want us there that day. We were not welcome. The kids were not going to hear the gospel. We looked sadly at our massive bag of prizes. We had saved all the best for last. Victor came with a big bundle of bananas meant for 200 children. Emma started giving them away to any kids around so we wouldn’t have a month’s supply of bananas at our house.

Soon kids, hearing we were around, came trickling in. We gave them all bananas and tried to find out from them what happened.

“They told us you weren’t coming and chased us away very quickly,” they said. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“No. We can’t,” we said sadly.

“What about Saturday?”

“No, we have another program.”

“Oh. Then when are you coming?”

“We don’t know,” we answered, knowing that until we get to the bottom of things, we will not be coming back.

We love those kids. We’ve been continuing with that ministry because we love those kids. Those kids desperately need people to invest in their lives and love on them and give them solid teachings. But we can’t work in places where we are not welcome. We are praying we can work things out but we will have to wait and see.

Yet we know, when God closes doors, He opens windows. We are praying that even though we didn’t get to finish our program with those kids, that seeds would have been planted and the kids would have been blessed in some little way. And I know my God, He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.

pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=203168&id=664174054&l=b8506c5b6c

Mombasa

2010-08-30T14:22:00.001+03:00

My Life is Average: Kenya

2010-08-09T19:03:00.003+03:00

-The other day I went shopping at the grocery store. Five Maasai women were there in full Maasai tribal regalia, also going shopping. They were in the vegetable aisle.

-For my workout routine yesterday, I decided that instead of doing pushups, I would instead attack our back bushes with a machete. Not only was it a very effective upper body workout, but now the bushes are pruned.

-In a matatu one day, I saw a Swahili proverb sticker. It said, “Yesu ni mganga wangu.” Translation: “Jesus is my witchdoctor.”

-When we went to the craft market a few weeks ago, my African American friend tried to pass as an African in order to get better deals. She tried to speak as little as possible and nod or shake her head during bargaining to avoid having her accent give her away. She also pretended she didn’t know us (the wazungu). She got good deals, and a few marriage proposals.

-During the same craft market adventure, a shopkeeper admired my Canadian friend’s watch. He offered her anything in his shop for exchange. She chose a beautiful full size hand carved, hand painted soap stone platter. It was a $4 Walmart watch with a missing button.

-Last month, Martin was helping us in our garden. He went to our neighbor to ask if he could borrow her hoe. She gave it to him, but not before lecturing him on how he should get a gardener.

-I went to the super big supermarket last week to buy some things. In the vegetable aisle, I saw all kinds of exotic vegetables that I don’t even know the name of. But there were no mushrooms. Not a single one.

-The other day I saw a monkey on someone’s roof. I thought it was cool, but my friends laughed at me for running down the street to see it.

-I made chicken and dumpling soup one night. The Kenyans thought it was an abomination. Dumplings?

-I was trying to tell my friend “I understand” in Swahili. He started laughing. I had said it wrong. Instead, I told him “I’m drunk”.

-At church this Sunday, they were talking about the importance of including people with disabilities in their church. A midget danced. Best service ever.

-One day in Kibera, a big tent was set up with a booming sound system. There were a lot of people around. When I asked what was going on, I found out they were giving out free male circumcisions to any adult male interested. All who received their free circumcision also got a $40 grocery voucher thrown in.

-At our preschool in the slum a few weeks ago, we had to have class outside. While squished into a tiny area next to the school, we tried to talk to the kids. During our lesson, kids kept sneaking to the back where they would take off their pants and pee in the stream. I’ve had kids sleep in class, but never pee. The toilets were three feet away.

-Often in Nairobi, people decide I should be their friend and they stalk me through town. The most common small talk begins with “How do you find Kenya?” There are so many sarcastic comments I have to hold back.

-The other day, Pastor Timothy came into the office when we were praying. A few of us looked up to see who was coming in. We then had to fight back laughter until the prayer was finished. He was wearing a Gilligan’s Island hat with the words “Proud to be Canadian” written on it.

-A few nights ago I dreamed our head pastor at home was helping with the college group. He decided that to help us grow in our spiritual life, we needed to play soccer…completely naked.

-A different night I had a nightmare about vampires and lepers chasing after me trying to kill me. Kingdom of Heaven meets Twilight, a sign that Tara needs to not watch so many movies before bed.

-One day, while I was on the street in front of our house running, a little boy on a bike started following me. “What happened to your leg?” he asked, when he observed my massive ugly purple scar on my calf.
“I got hit by a car,” I explained.
“Did you die?” He asked, very seriously.
“No, some people helped me.”
“Oh.” He thought for a moment, “You should pay them.”

-One day in a matatu, a little girl, maybe five years old, started singing a song she learned in Sunday school. She sang out loud, with all her heart, so everyone in the matatu could here. Jane and Emma looked at each other with big smiles. Then they joined in.

-A children’s home we work at sometimes is called “Bowels of Love Ministries”. I really wonder who named it.

-I was walking home the long way one afternoon because our matatu stopped early. On one corner a group of entirely men were sitting at a local café/bar visiting together. Seeing me, they all started making a lot of noise and wanting me to come greet them. I refused and pretended they didn’t exist. When they realized I was ignoring them, they called me racist.

-A new butcher shop was put in around the corner. Their sign says they sell cow, goat, and camel meat. I need to visit them sometime. It’s been a long time since I had a good slice of camel.

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Capsicums, Carrots, and the Hokey Pokey

2010-08-02T14:24:00.003+03:00

I like Mondays. They are our “day off”. I finally get a free day this Monday (last Monday I was doing airport pick ups and then orientation). I slept in (till 8:30am! Wow!), ate leftover samosas for breakfast, stalked people from home on facebook, and spent a few hours playing guitar. I tried to pray in the backyard but the ants started crawling all over and distracted me. Instead, I came to the front porch and prayed there. The ants still crawled, but not as many. I squished quite a number but then started feeling guilty so just had to close my eyes and pretend there weren’t ants on me.

While I sat there, the sun finally broke through the clouds making it a very pleasantly warm day, instead of the ridiculously cold days we’ve had lately (problem of being in Kenya in winter). The pink and yellow and red flowers in the yard gave a splash of color to the growing grass. I saw a tiny blue butterfly land on my Bible and then fly away. Then those stupid noisy African birds kept honking overhead. Very ugly birds. I don’t know what their official name is but I’ve only heard them in Africa so the title “Africa birds” will have to do.

I realized this morning how I need to make sure I take more time to do such things I really enjoy. I spend a lot of time working, cleaning, cooking, planning things, and being useful. But there are sometimes I need to stop being useful and I need to color in my Little Mermaid coloring book, play guitar, read a non-spiritual, non edifying novel just for the fun of it, or just sit outside in the sunshine. Those moments are just as important as studying Swahili, planning VBS, writing official letters and looking over the accounts of July. Let me tell you, reading books in matatus have revolutionized my long matatu trips and made me almost look forward to them as a safe haven for reading books. I finished Twilight and Persuasion last week. Now I’m maybe a sixth of the way into Lord of the Rings.

I’ve been learning all about Australia this week too. I didn’t realize how entirely ignorant I am about the country and way of life there. Having two Australians staying with us has been very educational (when I’m listening to what they are saying and not distracted by the awesome accents). I am learning to speak Australian too-“sultanas” are raisins, “capsicums” are bell peppers, and not all Australians live with kangaroos.

My favorite project this week was Blue House (not that I should be picking favorites, but I can’t help it). This week’s project really encouraged me. It’s not often I have a change to really be able to see the impact a project is making in the lives of the kids we work with. This Saturday I did. Usually, the kids we minister to on Saturday mornings are rather compelled to be with us. We teach them Bible in between their classes where their teachers giving them extra lessons in math, science, and other subjects. They may enjoy a break from academia and appreciate getting fed, but not all kids really want to be with us nor are very cooperative and willing to participate.

Friday Blue house closed officially for the holidays (Kenyan schools close for a month in August, December, and April). We went there in the morning and told the handful of kids that were there that they should come the next morning because we would be coming as usual. We left, not knowing what to expect the next day.

Saturday morning, when we arrived at 10am, we only had ten or so kids of all ages in a single classroom. We had to very quickly decide what to do with them and how to reorganize things for such a small number of so many ages. However, as the morning continued, kids kept trickling and we ended up with a gross population of about 50 kids or so. What impacted me was those are kids that are choosing to come. They aren’t forced or required to come, they are coming because they want to come. That’s really encouraging. If they will leave home early on a Saturday morning to come for our project, that means they really want to be there. I’m sure some just come to get food, but not all.

Since coming was on a voluntary basis, most of the troublemakers didn’t show, meaning all the kids we had were very cooperative, excited to play games and sing songs, and very happy to hang out. The school “janitor” stopped his work to encourage us (he’s always encouraging us, which is nice).

“You had kids show up at 7am this morning. They asked whether their ‘teachers’ were coming and have been waiting for you ever since.”

I taught the kids Kijabe can can, Bring home the bacon, the Hokey Pokey, and cat and mouse that morning. We finally had space to play in because New Adventures School (who Blue House now shares a compound with) is out of school and so we could use the whole school ground to play in. It still isn’t very much space (as the kid who ran straight into a metal pole found out). The kids were having so much fun with games, when lunch was ready, they didn’t want to stop.

The Australians taught the kids Bible and gave out lots of candy. I had to run away from the class rooms because Victor kidnapped me into the kitchen. I hadn’t had the kitchen experience yet and the team decided it was necessary. I was about as useful as I warned I would be though. I was fired from chopping garlic because of my slow clumsiness. Then while grating carrots, I grated my right thumb along with the carrots. I tried to stir the pot of cooking pilau, but kept having to run away with tears in my eyes from the smoke spewing from the firewood. Victor is the master at cooking for masses of children over firewood. I am not, but maybe with practice I too will get the hang of things. Until then, I will stick with the Hokey Pokey. At least I know where my spiritual gifting lies.

I am starting to learn these kids. I know more and more names each week and am learning their personalities more. They are a funny bunch, but so dear. From their smiles and laughter, you can never tell how hard of backgrounds they come from. One kid, very tall for his age, but probably held back a few grades as well, came late. He had to help his grandmother around the house and came after. His shoes were so worn his big toes stuck out of each side. Another girl, a teenager, came with her baby cousin. The girl won kijabe can can hands down. She’s a tough cookie. I think she’s missing her calling. She needs to be a hockey player.

I am getting increasingly excited for VBS (vacations Bible School) with our kids. I really love these kids and I’m excited to get to spend a solid four days teaching them and really getting to know them better. I’m just praying it goes well.

When we were leaving Blue House, I ran into an old friend on the side of the road. She was a girl I used to teach in Blue House about six years ago. Back then she was a sweet, pretty 15 year old. Now she is finished with school, working plaiting hair, and trying to earn enough money to send her younger siblings through school. She no longer looks the little girl but is now a fully grown woman. These kids in the slum, I really pray God takes care of them. Some seem so innocent but I wonder how innocent they really are and what they have had to see and go through in the young lives. Some of the kids we work with may take these lessons to heart for life, but most won’t. I just pray we see fruit and make a difference in those precious few who listen.

Full House

2010-07-26T11:56:00.002+03:00

We have a full house for the first time. It’s a striking contrast from when I stayed here by myself. Now the house is loud and full of laughter instead of creepy noises and quietness. We have many people to help with chores, which is important because things get messier with more people. We need to fetch water more often but at the same time we have more people to fetch water. I like it.

It was all kind of unexpected. Originally our director was going to bring over a small group a few weeks ago but with the bombings in Kampala, he got busy with sorting out fearful parents and MST’s. Then he left to go to the UK and back to the US and I hadn’t heard anything more about a team coming from Uganda. We sent our one MST to Uganda and were prepared for a quiet week. Then all the sudden, Ivan called me to tell me a team was going to come on a bus that night to come stay with us. Our team had to very quickly prepare everything and I had to learn yet another lesson in flexibility.

I picked the team up from the bus station Thursday morning. A Ugandan chaperon and three American girls were there huddled with blankets and pillows. I warned them that Kenya is colder than Uganda. They believe me now. But they came very excited to see Kenya and experience the differences between the countries and the ministries.

There are many differences. Nairobi is a much larger, faster city than Kampala. EAC Kenya is still very small and very new. We don’t have the years of connections that EAC Uganda has. Our team of five Kenyans is very experienced and capable, but also is much quieter and less rambunctious than the large Ugandan team. Things are just different and it’s hard to compare the two. They each have their strengths and weaknesses and have to be taken as they are.

It’s good for our team here in Kenya to receive a big group like this because we need the experience. The Uganda team is also very ready to have smaller groups and less people there. It’s been a long summer for them and they need things to start winding down. So, it has worked out well having our little “Ugandan team” come and visit us.

Tonight for the first time we will have more people than beds. In addition to our “Ugandan team”, Emma and I, we will also have Nancy staying the night after taking our visitors to the giraffe park. Amanda, my Canadian friend from our old AIM team, is also visiting us this week while her husband is out of town. Then Martin is helping me pick up two Australians this afternoon. For this week, we will have an extremely full house.

We’ve been enjoying having more help at projects and around the house. The American girls are very helpful and enthusiastic. They can add a lot of noise, songs, and games to projects, and make projects much more fun for everyone involved. At home in the evenings, everyone shares stories and we laugh a lot.

Schools close this week. Then next week Kenya is voting for their new constitution. Pray that is goes peacefully! When schools close, we have to be creative as a ministry and come up with other projects to take the place of those that close. (The preschool and Blue House closes up for the holidays, and the kids at the juvenile home are still around but they refuse to study during holidays so we have to come up with other activities).

We met to plan other alternatives and decided the best thing to do would be to have two weeks of VBS at particular projects. The third week of August we are going to do VBS with the kids at Blue House and the fourth week of August we are going to do VBS at the juvenile home. This will enable us to really get to know the kids better and do something special for them while at the same time giving both us and them something good to do. Pray that God uses it and provides all we need to be able to make it a special occasion for them!

A Beautiful Offering: Mission Trip to Nyeri

2010-07-12T20:55:00.001+03:00

It was finally warmer. The sun was out, even though it was an early morning, and it warmed up the rich green shambas (gardens) of the village. When Martin told us Nyeri is cold, I was prepared for Nairobi’s chilly July evenings with cool daily sunshine, but I was not prepared for actual all day sensations of legit coldness. Without the proper clothes, I had to resort to layering, meaning the kids at the schools saw glimpses of penguin pajamas peeking out of my skirt when I started jumping around too much.

Thankfully today was warmer. I was out of clothes and my only dress left would not allow the penguins to be covertly hidden so it was better to have to penguins on at all. I swore I wouldn’t shower, but it was warm enough I had no excuses not to. If we didn’t have enough firewood for warming water, there is no way I would consider showering. I had to chase the massive white turkey away from the shower room so I could carry in the hot water though. I was a bit afraid of him, but he seemed to be afraid of me too.

We had already spent four nights in Martin’s home village in Nyeri, a province in central Kenya. It was our first mission trip as a team-a “practice round”, if you will, to prepare us for bigger and bigger trips in the future. It was a good learning experience, but definitely unpolished. Days were full of visiting and praying for people, speaking at a school, and holding a teaching for youth at a local church. Nights also were full of cooking over firewood, cleaning, and hanging out with our noisy team of seven (5 Kenyans, 2 Americans). This morning, our last, everybody was feeling the toll of the week and moving more slowly than usual.

Breakfast was put on the table. It was a feast today. Chai made with milk from the freshly milked cow was especially rich and creamy. We had mandazi from the shop, fresh pineapple, and leftover chicken. The night before we had feasted on three chickens to crown our village mission with a proper celebratory meal of chicken and chapati. The leftovers fed us in the morning. We would have had even more, but the dogs, seeing an opportunity, snuck into the kitchen and ate the stew before we could stop them.

We knew we were running late to church. The pastor told us to be there at 10:30am, but we had learned from past days that 10:30am doesn’t always mean 10:30am. To avoid sitting around for an hour or two, like we had past days, we decided to take our time and leave the house when it was clean and we were packed. The rich red village mud needed to be mopped off the floor of the house, we needed to find room in our luggage for bags of fresh macadamia nuts and maize, and we needed to try to look “smart” for church.

Martin told us it was a bit of a walk and we would have to climb a hill, so we were prepared. However, in my sandals and pretty church dress I wasn’t prepared for bushwacking through thorns and shambas (gardens), climbing through barbed-wire fences, jumping across streams, and climbing a mountain. By walking to church, I was envisioning a rough dirt road, not a barely existent single-file path. We made it, in the end, with only one or two people falling into the stream, though we weren’t quite as fresh and clean as we started out.

The tiny village church had around 20 or so people on the wooden benches. The pastor was just beginning his pre-sermon as we filed in. They made us sit in the front. We thought we would be holding Sunday school, but then realized they don’t have any space to have Sunday school. Like everything else this weekend, we had to wing it and we never fully knew what to expect next.

The “choir” (of three people) sang to the beat of a drum and metal gong. Kids wandered in an out of church. Martin preached a powerful sermon. We were preparing to run away as soon as we could so we could get back to nairobi, but before we could leave the church, the pastor came up to thank us for coming to work with them this weekend. The next thing we knew, he called upon the congregation to bring an offering to our team.

“At least we can give them a little for their transport back home,” he said.

Then, one by one, the members of the congregation shuffled forward, and gave what they could. Some gave a few shillings, others gave a few hundred shillings, and some brought bags of maize, beans, and containers of fresh milk. They gave what they had.

Tears pricked my eyes as I watched. Never, in all my days of mission trips, have I ever seen a church collect an offering to bless my team. From this tiny church of farmers, they gathered together 500 shillings for us. (almost ten dollars…a lot of money in this area).

A funny thing is we had miscounted when we made our budget for our mission trip. It was a simple math mistake but it meant we were going to exceed our budget. I had been fretting over this the previous afternoon when we identified the problem. When the church handed us the envelope of money, I laughed. That was almost exactly the balance needed to make up for what else we needed to get home.

Victor called the weekend a “freestyle mission”. Each day we had plan a, plan b, plan c, and plan d. No matter how hard we tried to plan things out, ultimately they would all get mixed up again and we’d have to come up with plan e and plan f as well. Yet, God knew what He was doing all along. He knew that neighbors and schools would feed us so we wouldn’t need to spend as much on food. He knew the people we prayed for would get miraculously healed. He knew the 27 children who would come to a relationship with Christ. He knew everything we needed this weekend and He provided, even down to the chickens Emma insisted would be given to us (and they were).

It was a good lesson of trust and letting God be in control for me. And for the church we visited, it was a beautiful offering.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=187343&id=664174054&l=18794341e3

A Weekend in Uganda

2010-07-07T11:00:00.002+03:00

I had a fantastic trip to Uganda this weekend and was very blessed to have had the opportunity to go. I couldn’t have asked for a better weekend.

I was able to meet the most current summer team there (ie 32 noisy, crazy, fun wazungu, predominately girls between the ages of 18 and 24). The house is overflowing with people who are loving life and so excited to be serving God in Uganda. The team this year has had much less conflicts than last year and its going very smoothly this year.
We had a full weekend. We went to the village for a day-long trip of evangelism and building in preparation for their week long mission there this week. They have been visiting the land where we are going to put up our training centre each week. They’ve been doing evangelism and getting to know the people in the area. My group saw three people give their lives to Christ and many others who wanted prayer or more information.

We also went to the Remand (juvenile) home and see the kids there. An MST donated shoes to every single kid at the home and they were distributing them. The kids were super excited. Many of them go for months with no shoes and getting shoes makes them very happy. I hope we can do that with our kids in Kenya at the juvenile home. We’ve given them all pens and pencils. I’m praying we can give them soap and toothpaste someday. It makes them really happy.

We had sponsorship home visits for our kids too. I was happy to get to visit some of our kids. The program continues to grow rapidly. I’m happy to see a lot of the kids I worked on for the waiting list now officially on the program. It’s a long process but I know how happy they will be to be able to be in school.

It was overwhelmingly happy to be able to see the Ugandan team and many of my friends in Uganda. I didn’t realize till my bus began driving through the lush green beautifulness of the Ugandan countryside just how much I’ve missed Uganda and have grown to love this country. I love Kenya. I love the US. And I love Uganda. When people ask me which I love more, I can’t answer. That’s like asking someone if they love their mom or their dad more. They are all different and all dear.

I met up with the jaja (grandmother) who accidentally hit me in the car. She was very happy to see me again and overfed us lunch. As soon as I came into her house, she fell on her hands and knees and prayed for me with tears in her eyes, thanking God that I’m alive and that she’s not “a killer”. I tried to assure her that I’m alive and well and besides an ugly scar on my calf, no harm done. God brought good out of the situation and I don’t regret it. She’s a sweet, sweet lady and I feel badly she’s felt so guilty. I hope she feels a little better now.

I was also able to meet up with the Rocky Peak team that’s putting on a worship conference in Gaba. They were practicing their instruments in the church when I found them and I followed them to their house for lunch and got to hear the worship in the beginning of the conference. It was so happy to see people from home and brought so much joy to my heart. Also, to be able to hear Rocky Peak music and musicians made it almost seem like I was at home. Just another instance where God is showing me love by having things work out perfectly.

I returned to Kenya yesterday afternoon. I was happy to come back to our tiny, quieter team. I am glad we are starting things very slowly. More than 4 MST’s at a time here would too much. But we will work our way up to be able to handle more.

Today we are leaving for Nyeri for a village mission trip. We are staying at Martin’s family’s home and doing evangelism and children’s work with a local church. Pray that God uses us and we are a blessing to the people of Nyeri. Also pray it all goes well (we’ve never tried to plan or pull off anything like this before…it will be a learning experience!)

Summer Team Pictures

2010-07-07T10:59:00.000+03:00

It's been a fantastic week of projects here. We've been super encouraged. Evangelism saw around 13 people in Kibera come to Christ and dozens more are followed up on each week. At the juvenile home, we continued teaching on the parables of Jesus and in the afternoon, English lessons continued. We've also had team members go to the babies' orphanage multiple times this week. I've been able to visit some friends around as well. Also, my administrative work has not been any where near or as complex lately, which has been a blessing. We've had two big struggles this week-everybody wants money and the ants keep trying to take over our house.

Sadly, we lost our Texan MST yesterday. She went back home, but we were sad to see her go. Her flexibility, humility, willingness to serve, and overall helpfulness made her an absolute joy and blessing to our whole team. She loved her time with us, which was a big encouragement for all of us. Now we are left with one girl from Minnesota. I'm thankful we are starting out slow with only a few at a time. It really helps us grow to prepare for more.

This weekend I will be traveling to Uganda. (Really, only for a weekend, just pray no more cars try to hit me). I don't have work or anything to do but it's my one year anniversary with my boyfriend so really wanted to go out for a visit. I am so excited to go. I found out, after I had already decided to go, that my church from home will have a missions team out in Uganda the same time. Lord-willing I will be able to visit them as well and get a little taste of home. In addition, I will be able to pick up my birthday package from my mom (in other words, Tara soon gets Twizzlers. Rejoice!). All this to say, I am so looking forward to this weekend!

I commandeered pictures from the MSTs this week. They still take pictures. I have to really force myself. They got some good ones though and so for you to see pictures from most of the projects-from blue house to babies to the juvenile home and more, go to:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=183515&id=664174054&l=ac5b91cc33

That's the news for now!

Summer Teams Week One

2010-06-22T10:33:00.004+03:00

We have survived our first week with our MST’s (ministry support team, aka international volunteers). Our two American girls have been very helpful. They are very enthusiastic to be here, very excited to learn, and very helpful. Overall, they are a blessing to us.

It’s been a good week, but with a lot to learn. It’s been a blessing to have more people on our team. We can do more with more people, like at the juvenile home-we could have four people teaching, two assisting teachers, and two tutoring students who are really doing poor in class. We could split into more teams during evangelism. We had more people to go to the babies’ home.

At the house, it’s a cosy atmosphere. We take turns cooking and cleaning. When we get home from projects, we spend time watching movies, talking, and hangin out. I am excessively thankful to have Emma staying at the house to help hold down the fort. Taking care of MST’s is a full-time job. It’s nice and cheerful to have a full house now, in contrast to the past month of an empty, lonely house.

My team threw me a surprise birthday party on Wednesday at the juvenile home. I was so blessed. I walked into a room and saw the whole team around a cake with candles and “Happy birthday Tara” written on it. We had more of a feast than a picnic that day. The Americans came with beef jerkey, trail mix, fruit by the foot, and Milano cookies. I thought I was in heaven.

One of the MST’s came with boxes and boxes of pens and pencils. We distributed these to the kids at the juvenile home. This was a happy moment for us because those kids are always asking for pens, stealing pens, or refusing to take notes because they have no pens. Now they all have pens and will be able to take notes in class. Those kids are always asking for stuff, like shoes, pens, toothpaste and toothbrushes, one kid asked me in a note for “soap for birthing” (he meant bathing). We don’t like to give things individually because then the other kids get jealous and start asking for stuff too and some only ask for things so they can go and sell them and get money. To avoid such conflicts, we’d rather give something to everyone (i.e. toothpaste for every kid) instead of for individuals. Now that we have been able to give them all pens, maybe some day we will give them all “birthing soap” ;0)

I worked with one fifth grade student on comprehensive reading. We tried to read the book Mama do you love me? (Thanks grandma! I’m using the books!). I thought it would be an easy one, but with words like “mukluks”, “puffin”, “walrus”, and “parka”, it ended up being a very challenging book. I’m glad it had pictures, but even then, the kid needs a lot more work on his reading comprehension.

In other news, after weeks of frustration, we finally got a post office box. Oh, I rejoiced. It was a good day. Not only that, but our bank account has finally gotten sorted out and works. After three months of hard work, I finally felt like I accomplished something! Baby steps, but they really make me rejoice. I can’t count the number of trips I’ve made to both the post office and the bank, but now I only have to go when I want to see if I’ve gotten any packages or love notes, not to keep harassing the front desk people over getting a box.

We’ve had problems with some projects though. Some of the projects we have been going to feel that we should pay them for the privilege of getting to minister to them. We have to have a few meetings this week to sort things out and find if we can still be a part of those projects. Even if we had the money, which we don’t, paying people to get to teach them seems a bit backwards. The moment people see wazungu though, they see money and want to take advantage.

I have found out from the Kenyan visa office that I have to leave east Africa every six months. Meaning in September, I need to go somewhere that’s not Uganda or anywhere else in East Africa, or else I will get kicked out of Kenya. So pray I find a cheap plane ticket to Ethiopia or somewhere! Let’s see-our closest neighbors-Sudan, Somalia, DRC, hmmmm, I don’t think those are so well known for their tourist attractions. If any of you have any friends for me to visit or suggestions, let me know!

Martin decided we should have a shamba (garden) in our backyard. He came on Monday ready to work. He had to borrow a jembe (hoe) from the neighbor, who then lectured him on how he should hire a gardener to do gardening, not do it himself. He smiled politely, borrowed the jembe, and spent the day tilling the soil and cleaning up the yard. I thought it was funny cause in Wednesday we did a skit at the juvenile home on the parable of the four soils and Martin played the “mkulima” (farmer).

I tried to till a bit too. I’m not a farmer. I think I got more dirt in my hair than I actually helped with tilling. Eventually we are hoping to have our own patch of sukuma wiki (kale) and dania (cilantro). We already have bushes of rosemary all around which fill the yard with a pleasant aroma. I am hoping for a chicken. Just one little one to feed our leftovers, or maybe I’ll still work on a cat. ;)

We took the whole team to the Safari walk at the Nairobi National Park this week. We thought it would be a fun team-bonding opportunity. My tourist book said that entrance for wazungu (white people) was $5. I was most distraught when we arrived and they have upped it to $20 (which is in contrast to the entrance for Kenyans which is under $2…exploitation of the highest order). We were unprepared for such prices and I was thinking we would have to go home. Thankfully, one of the MST’s bailed us out and paid the difference.

We did have a lovely day of team bonding walking around the “safari walk” (aka mini-zoo). However, I think I will avoid all tourist traps until my alien residency card comes in and I am able to attend such places for resident rates. We did get to see a mzungu zebra (albino zebra). I didn’t even know such things existed. Looked like a blond zebra. We also saw a pygmy hippo and learned how to make bird calls.

Now it’s another week. I have Swahili lessons this afternoon. I ditched them last week cause I didn’t do my homework. Bad Tara. I did my homework yesterday though, but Emma and Martin had to help. It was hard! I need to stop being lazy and work harder at my language learning though. We have a team meeting this afternoon and that should be the day.

Please keep us in your prayers this week!

For pictures from the week: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=181808&id=664174054&l=ffb8a56a74

Happy Birthday Me!

2010-06-14T12:19:00.000+03:00

Dear world,

I turned 25 yesterday. It’s official. Now I’m an adult. I greatly appreciated all the birthday wishes from everyone via email and facebook. I felt very loved.  It was celebrated properly. We had a feast of Ethiopian food in Eastleigh with Emma, Victor and Jane. Eastleigh is like stepping into another country, or the closest to get to Somalia without actually going there. It’s part of Nairobi that’s full of Ethiopian and Somalian refugees and has a lot of shopping and amazing food.

It’s been a challenging week for me. One of those weeks where my patience is really being tested and tried and I really ask God why He has chosen me for such an assignment-timid, shy, conflict-avoiding me. Of course, I can give myself a flock of Bible verses and Bible stories-Moses, Gideon, Elijah, etc. about other weak people who wondered why God had chosen them from all people for the job He had for them, yet it still takes awhile to get from my head to my heart. And stories condense things. They show the whole story in a few paragraphs, a book, etc, and all the years and years of preparation and the whole process is shown quickly. Experience is another matter. It takes time and a lot of dull, mundane, frustrating days of life where you don’t know what the ending is gonna be like.

I almost cried in the post office this week. Of my series of errands all over town, nearly every stop told me the same thing, “We will work on it. Come back later.” I’ve heard that a lot. Does it ever get worked on? God only knows. What I know is that I don’t see any results of people “working on it” and sometimes I think it’s a whole conspiracy to frustrate me. So after a series of such frustrating stops, where after a lot of walking and a lot of time, I’ve accomplished nothing. That’s when the post office told me I couldn’t send my package wrapped the way it was and I needed to redo it, I nearly broke down in tears. A stupid thing, but all the frustration welled up and I fully stomped out of the office like a two-year-old in a temper tantrum to buy the “proper” envelope.

Projects also frustrated me this week. We showed up at the juvenile home and found they were having a government agricultural fair and all the kids were out of class. The headmaster was very apologetic. He had been informed of the activity only the night before and was a bit frustrated too. We understood. Obviously this fair had been planned for quite awhile, but sometimes the chains of communication here are dysfunctional or broken (or just nonexistent). So we made the best of it and had a team picnic on the lawn.

Blue House was nearly a no-go as well. They just changed headmasters and hadn’t been fully informed about our program on Saturdays. After a lot of standing around and talking to administrators we finally were allowed to have our program with the kids, but we have less time with the older kids now. It worked out in the end, but it took awhile.

Yet it’s all part of the process and part of the growing pains. We learn flexibility as a team. We learn to not freak out until all information is discovered and the right people are talked to and we learn to go with the flow. And I am excessively thankful all this happened on a week with no MST’s. Our team can understand such sudden changes and conflicts. New people have a harder time with it.

Having a position of leadership is really teaching me. Past times in Kenya, I spent most of my time visiting people, holding Bible studies, and teaching youth groups. Days were very free and unstructured. I did most things on my own. Now I am in charge of a team. I have to put the needs of the ministry and the team into consideration, more so than my own desires and passions. I may love to visit people, but when I need to attend a project all day and then sort out bank issues, I do not have the time to visit people as much. Instead of being involved with a single project like before, now I am spread between many, with my main responsibility being the team and helping them to minister, more so than me actually ministering.

I guess I have been struggling to learn this new role the past few weeks. I am not sure if I expected things to be like they were before or to pick up exactly where I left off before, but whatever my issue has been, things are different now. I do not have the freedom of past seasons, but as a team and no longer as an individual, I have more potential for greater impact than before. That’s the trade off-it’s not all about me anymore and that’s a hard lesson. The leader has to make the biggest sacrifices, do the most work, and usually receive the most criticisms, complaints, and less thanks.

We had our two MST’s arrive this morning. I was freakin out last night, super nervous. We picked them up no problem but I’ve just been praying for God to give me wisdom. He will. I know I shouldn’t freak out. It will all be fine in the end. But I’m still super human sometimes too and still get afraid.

I’ve been fighting for months about staying at the ministry house. I didn’t want to do it. It’s a lot of work and responsibility and it means no matter what, I’m always at work. I had my own ideas of what I want my life to look like and how I want to spend my time. But it’s not all about me. I realized that I need to be here. Emma hasn’t learned how to run things or deal with MST’s on this level yet. For now, I need to stay here. So, I’ve got a room all set up now and call this “home”, but I’ve really fought it.

I’ve made some friends in Fedha. I met one Somali girl on a matatu when our matatu broke down and we became friends. My other friend owns a little café that I keep eating at. She got horribly sick this week though. I went to visit her in the hospital and it was horrible. I was glad I went, but I cried there while praying for a women and kept having to leave the room to keep from passing out. My friend was there, very weak, complaining about having to share her single hospital bed with this other patient. I understood. The other patient in her bed had the skeletal, glazed look of approaching death. A bag of blood was above her head and splattered on the wall next to her bed. People kept telling my friend to stop complaining or she’d be marked as a trouble-maker and the nurses would neglect her. Groans of anguish came from the woman in the next bed and everyone in the room looked to be in miserable conditions. It was a horrible place. Thankfully my friend was released and has returned home. I was so happy to see her little café reopened and her back at work.

There’s been a lot of fuss lately over the new constitution Kenyans are voting on soon. They are badly in need of a new constitution, but the current draft has a few allowances that have made a lot of Kenyans, especially in churches, not accept it. In multiple churches, I have heard pastors encouraging their congregations to vote no on the new constitution because it allows abortion to be legalized, lets Muslims set up their own court system, and allows international treaties to become Kenyan law without Kenyan people being allowed to vote on them.

The American vice president was here last week talking to top officials (and disorganizing traffic and cell phone reception for everyone else). The team saw his wife in Kibera and came back with lots of stories. The American government is “encouraging” Kenyans to vote yes on the new constitution and promising lots of money if they do.

Promises of money make me nervous though. Sometimes western aid and money is a bit dubious and often doesn’t go to the proper people. The strings attached aren’t always in the best interests of the people of the receiving country. I heard some Ugandans complaining about western “aid” that requires homosexuality to be legalized and taught in schools. This is an extremely taboo subject for Ugandans and the promotion of its acceptance horrific to most Ugandan consciences, Christian or not. It makes me wonder what kind of “gospel” western liberalism is bringing to the world in the name of “human rights”.

They will vote in the next few months. I will be curious to see what happens. I will avoid the slums that week too. The slightest provocation is enough to make everyone riot. They’ve been passing out copies of the constitution all over Kenya for people to read and decide for themselves. I just pray that what is best will be done, not what is most profitable. But from my experiences here, what I’ve seen is that when money is the sole source of justice and power in a nation, that will also be the measure for making all decisions, and so what is profitable will win out over what is best and right. So we keep praying for Kenya.

A Saturday At Blue House

2010-06-06T18:48:00.003+03:00

I have a hard time waking up on Saturday mornings. My brain is programmed to view Saturdays as a day off, but this is Kenya, not Uganda, and Saturdays are not our day off. It’s our last day of projects for the week. That didn’t stop me from turning off my alarm at least three times before finally rolling out of bed this morning.

Mornings have been cool lately. Not cold, just cool. I made eggs and toast and a combination of waking up late and laziness kept me from both bathing and doing the dishes. I knew the ants would get at my dishes by the time I got home, but I was still in a rush to make it on time. After the lecture I gave the team about keeping time this week, I knew I had better also be on time!

On a normal day, it takes two hours to get to Kibera from Fedha. If the jam is bad, it could take longer, if the jam is good, maybe an hour and a half. It was decent today so I actually made it on time, despite my late start. The time in transit gives me time for reading. Today I read a chapter in the Celebration of Discipline and a chapter in the Danakil Diaries (a book on a British explorer in Ethiopia in the 30’s). That helps the time go faster and be used better.

Town is quieter on weekends. Still a lot of chaos, but not as much as weekdays. I am still trying to master the art of getting onto vehicles and dismounting vehicles while they are still in motion. Matatus and buses don’t like to stop for passengers often. You kinda just have to run and jump and hope you live. Railways, a big station for vehicles, is especially bad. I watched at least three number 8’s fly past, all refusing to stop. I finally found one I could get to on time, but I had to wait for it to fill up.

It rained two days ago so Kibera was still a little muddy along the way, but not unbearable. I keep telling myself to wear close-toed shoes but keep not listening to my own advice. Like today, my close-toed shoes didn’t match my outfit. It was a short walk too so I didn’t get muddy.

As usual, things didn’t go exactly according to plan. We try really hard to plan for our projects but inevitably things happen that throw off our good plans. Like today-all the 8th graders were gone to somewhere or another. Then the classroom we usually use for the little kids was locked and we couldn’t find the person with the keys. Emma, Martin and I kept debating what to do. We finally decided to have praise and worship with all the kids together in one class while Emma tried to find a solution. The kids aren’t many, maybe forty at most. Some of the kids led us in songs then Martin taught us all a new Swahili worship song. The sound of all those children singing in Swahili was so beautiful.

Emma found another classroom and so took all the preschoolers through fourth graders. Victor finally came to start cooking and Jane came to help Emma with the little kids. Martin and I stayed with the big kids (5th-7th grade) while Nancy was at home not feeling well.

Another thing I’ve learned at Blue House, besides things never going according to plan, is that I need to always be ready for more jobs than I’ve originally signed up for. Like today-I was supposed to do games, but I ended up teaching and doing games. We had a lot of fun though. I know I probably shouldn’t have favorite projects, but I can’t help it. It’s funny. I was originally hesitant about helping about with Blue House again. That’s what I did before in 2004-2005 and loved, but just was wary of doing it again. Now, being back, I still love it just as much.

It’s a tiny group compared to what we used to work with. Before we had near a hundred youth from about 5th-12th grade and now it’s just middle school and only about 15 kids. Yet they are a fun, crazy bunch and a group that small gives a lot of freedom for activities and interaction.

There are a group of four very noisy crazy boys who are very smart, but also want a lot of attention. Then there all the sweet girls who are so shy. Some of the girls look like women while others are still very tiny. I guess that’s something I’ve always loved with this age group-the diversity, the growth, and the craziness.

We split into two teams for games-the lions and the cheetahs. The lions dominated. After a very noisy, excited session of games, they then had to come up with a skit of the prodigal son in their groups. They haven’t quite mastered the art of making up skits yet. The kids at Kabete did this very easily, but the Blue House kids seemed to really struggle. They mastered the part about the pigs. We had little piggies with butts in the air getting prodded around the room the entire skit. They also mastered the part about killing the fattened calf (though the calves seemed to never really finish dying but instead kept convulsing in a corner and making funny noises throughout the whole skit). Our fathers (both girls) replayed the part about the prodigal coming to embrace them multiple times but it was never quite clear who the prodigal actually was. Oh well. Next time we’ll try to give them a bit more guidance. They had fun and had to at least think about the story, which was the goal.

I then explained the story more and gave a lesson about God’s love, repentance, and forgiveness. Martin struggled to get the kids to answer questions. It’s hard to tell when they don’t understand and when they just don’t want to talk. It’s also hard to figure out when they need concepts translated into Swahili or when English is ok.

Lunch was going to be served late. We put our lunch money together on Saturdays to be able to cook for all the kids. Most wouldn’t get lunch if we didn’t. We are no longer allowed to use the kitchen we used to use so Victor was cooking outside on firewood, which takes a lot more time. Martin returned to our classroom with the news that we still had at least another half hour to entertain the kids. I groaned a bit-we’d already played at least two games that day and I was running out of ideas. Martin hadn’t though. He suggested a tongue-twister competition and the kids willingly agreed.

“She sells sea shells down by the sea shore” was written on the board and all kids took turns saying it and stumbling over the confusing sounds. The classmates enjoyed laughing at each other’s failures and then getting laughed at at their turn as well. The winners then went on to learn “how much wood would a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood”. We then had a picture taking session where all the kids fought to have me take their pictures.

Lunch was finally served, white rice with a sauce made of peas, tomatoes, and potatoes. Since we were missing the class 8’s, there was a lot of extra food so all kids who wanted got seconds. A lot of the kids come and stick around in order to get food. After food is served, everyone disappears, including our team. It’s Saturday afterall and we have things we want to do, people to visit, places to go! I like that with Saturdays. The rest of the afternoon is free and it’s a very good day to visit people.

Now it’s onto the weekend-church, catching up on emails, office work, housecleaning, and resting. I like those quiet days where I don’t have to go anywhere and I can just be. Yet, if I don’t have a busy week, those days of rest aren’t as enjoyable. The busyness and tiredness makes days off even sweeter.

Till next week….

Ubarikiwe.

Birthdays and Holidays

2010-05-31T15:15:00.001+03:00

Hi! Hope you all are enjoying your holiday weekend! It's even a holiday weekend here in Kenya. Tuesday is Madaraka day (Kenyan independence day) and so it's a holiday. That means its a lovely, long weekend for all of us at EAC Kenya.

For me, it means I am hangin out at the house and catching up on work while the "fundi" (ie handyman) fixes things around the house. He's already done alot. The water tank has a handle now so i don't have to use a wrench to turn it on and off. The kitchen has a light now so I don't have to cook in the dark. We are getting better and better, but still have a ways to go. I think I will need to do some housecleaning too. I'm not used to running a house, but I will learn.

Projects have been continuing on well. Class six at the juvenile home learned about adjectives this week. Those boys come from all different levels of schooling. Some catch on very quickly, others sleep through class, and some are illiterate. Some boys take notes in legit notebooks while others take notes on any scrap paper and book they can find and others just refuse to take notes. However, making boys stand up who chose to sleep seemed to work pretty effectively. We’ll keep working on them.

For bible teaching this week, we tried to teach the class six and seven about the parable of the unmerciful servant. They understood the parable, but my story about Corrie Ten Boom and the Holocaust was a bit over their heads.

I started Swahili lessons this week. I had four hours of lessons and they were very helpful. I need to study still, but I enjoyed the lessons very much. It's a very pretty, rhythmic language and I am excited to learn to speak it better. It will help me understand people better and communicate more effectively as well.

It was a week of birthday parties too. Emma and Jane both had their birthdays and so we threw a surprise birthday party for them. I made a cake with real American frosting (that came all the way from Uganda...I couldn't find any frosting in Kenya). We had salsa, guacamole, and a lot of French fries and had an afternoon of silly games and an all-out brutal balloon war. In other words, we had a lovely time.

I also celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday this weekend. Now my actual birthday isn't until June 13th, but my boyfriend is going to be on a missions trip with the EAC Uganda team that week, so he came out early to celebrate this weekend. He helped out with projects on Friday and then took me out for a nice dinner at the Carnivore on Saturday night. It was a beautiful birthday.

Now I am back to work in a lonely, quiet house. I have a lot to do to organize things here though. I'm still trying to get bank issues and post office issues sorted. Emma is going to be moving into the house here next week, making it not so quiet and lonely here. She's going to be helping out with our MST's (international vollunteers) as they stay at the house. They will start coming in two weeks. It's a bigjob so we need a lot of help.

Well, that's the news for now. To see pictures from this last week, go to:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=172464&id=664174054&l=2db8c68e3a

Please continue to keep us in your prayers and pray for us as we continue our work among the youth here. Pray for God to lead us to where it is we need to be working and for Him tohelp us organize ourselves well. Pray that He gives me wisdom as well!

The Blue House is No Longer Blue...and other Kenyan Projects

2010-05-19T22:05:00.004+03:00

I went to all projects with my team this week. It’s funny how much of a difference it makes to see something firsthand versus just hearing about it.

On Tuesday mornings we go to “New Adventures Church”, a.k.a. a Bible study in Kibera for new believers who have come out of Thursday morning evangelism. There, along the railroad tracks, next to the jua kali (hot sun) workers and shops in the open air, a furniture maker lets us use some of his rough chairs, we pull up a shaky bench, and have “church” right there in the open air of the slum.

Our little church there is a collection of people who have gotten saved through evangelism. They meet there for basic teachings on Christianity and having a forum to have their questions answered. Pastor Timothy has had this outreach for years. I recognized many of the leadership team that came, like Lawrence, little Moses, Alex. I remember a long time ago, like 6 years ago, when Lawrence, still in 8th grade, told me how when he grew up he wanted to be in ministry. He still is. That makes me happy.

Tuesday afternoons we used to go to a children’s home called “BOLM” (lol, Bowels of Love Ministries). The home there had around 60 or so kids of all ages who stay there and go to school there. Some are orphaned, some abandoned, some just needy. We found out this week that the whole home is moving a couple of hours away to a new location. That meant it was our last Tuesday with them, which was sad. We met with the kids in different age groups. Nancy and Emma taught the little ones and then let them color pictures of Joseph’s many-colored coat. Jane and I took the medium ones and taught them about Jesus’ disciples. Martin and Victor took the oldest, teaching them about prayer. In the middle of our lesson, the rain came out of nowhere and pounded us. Trying to teach kids in a school made of metal in a rainstorm is something else.

Wednesdays, we go to a juvenile home called Kabete, about 45 minutes outside of Nairobi. It’s a lovely area, lush and green with lots of trees and shambas (gardens). The home itself is quite the facility-with cows and gardens and a big area for football (soccer) and a big school. They don’t have enough teachers for all the classes though, which is where we can be useful. They have a hundred or so teenage boys from about 5th-8th grade. Some are completely illiterate, some have been through a bit of school. In the mornings, we teach Bible. After lunch, we teach actual classes. I taught English to sixth graders today. We learned about adverbs. I think we need geography next week. They didn’t know where California is.

Nancy wanted to touch a cow today. She kept running up to them, but then getting scared and running away. Martin laughed at her for being a city girl. She finally touched one and was very proud. We decided we need a pet cow in Fedha to give us milk and to keep the lawn down. Maybe I will try to include that in next month’s budget. ;)

Thursday mornings we go for evangelism in Kibera. Pastor Timothy (he’s a fiery little Kenyan pastor. My AIM team worked with him six years ago and I used to help lead the youth group of his church, “Blue House”) hasn’t changed much. He still has a goal of bringing the gospel to every one of the million or so people that live in Kibera (population estimations are at anywhere from 750,000 to one million people live in the slum in Kibera). Every Thursday morning, a small group of volunteers goes and knocks on doors, sits in shops, and talks to anyone they meet on the road to tell them about the would like to pray for them or visit them.

We stop by lunch time. Pastor Timothy said, “I’ve learned that if you try to talk to people around lunch time, they don’t want to hear you anymore. They are busy thinking about lunch. That is why the best time is in the morning.”

In the afternoons, we have a team meeting in Pastor Timothy’s pastor’s training centre. It used to be in a shoddy metal building. Now it is in a legit house and provides the perfect space for our mighty little team to meet up. We meet to pray, plan for the week, and cover random administrative stuff we have to go over. Chairing meetings is another good lesson for Tara to learn.

Friday mornings we go to a little preschool in Kibera. It was started by a British missionary girl, about my age, who came a few years ago and saw a need for these kids to have a school to go to. So, she went home, raised money, and started the school. And it’s going strong. We go and play games, sing songs, and teach the kids a Bible lesson, then let them color. We tried to teach them “join the dots” (i.e. connect the dots) this last week. Some of the older ones got it. Some of the others didn’t quite get the concept so well. We’ll have to work on that before we can get to complicated things like mazes or matching. 

Friday afternoon I have training with my team. I started them on the first chapter of Spiritual Leadeship by J. Oswald Sanders. I’ve had multiple youth pastors go through that book with me over the years and it always kicks me in the butt. Since we only have once copy of the book, and the English in it is a little hard, I am just teaching them the concepts in more of a small group format. It will go slower, but we have time. There is no hurry. I’m excited for these meetings. They will be good for all of us.

Saturday mornings we go to Blue House for the youth group meeting they have for kids from the school. Blue House is both a church and a school for very needy kids from the slum. It’s called Blue House cause it used to be held in a big turquoise (bluish) building. However, at the time they were renting the building. Not long ago, the landlord wanted to hike the rent to the US equivalent of $12,000 a month for a big, leaky, sheet metal building in the middle of slum that gives schooling to impoverished kids that can’t afford regular schools. Needless to say, they refused and moved. They are sharing space with another school right now (New Adventures School for those of you who know it…but their new building not the old one). They bought a new piece of land though and are hoping to build their own school eventually.

The children’s group and youth group on Saturday morning is much smaller than in past years, but then again so is the school. There has been a lot of challenges and transitions there. Yet, as in past years, Saturday morning discipleship was just as unplanned as ever. Martin was helping Victor buy supplies to cook lunch and they both came late. I came prepared to help with cooking only to find Martin, the day’s teacher, missing in action. The classroom teacher saw me and welcomed me in “Here is our teacher! You are welcome!”

Thankfully, past years have given good training on how to wing a meeting. We played hang man and Pictionary, I taught them on faithfulness and the parable of the talents, then taught them how to sing “I’ve got peace like a river” and “deep and wide”. They taught me a Swahili song too. We had a blast. They are all about middle school age and I love that age group and genuinely love teaching. Despite being on the spot, I enjoyed the day so much and am looking forward to more Saturdays with those kids.

Saturday afternoons are free, giving me time to visit friends. I have a lot I need to visit, and that is a blessing. 

Our “days off” are Sunday and Monday. That leaves Sunday for me to wash clothes, clean the house, and catch up on office work, letting Monday be a true day of rest. At least that’s the ideal in my head right now. I’ve learned from past experiences that if I don’t have a genuine day off I will make myself sick after two months of going hard. Lord-willing, I won’t do that again anytime soon!

Well, that’s our format right now, but more likely than not, it will change all the time! Will keep you updated. 

The Branch in the Road

2010-05-18T10:36:00.002+03:00

Have you ever walked on a road in life where you came to a point where the road branched in two different directions and you had to decide which way to go? There is a signpost, but it is blank. How do you decide which way to walk?

“Stand at the crossroads and look;
Ask for the ancient paths,
Ask where the good way is,
And walk in it,
And you will find rest for your souls.
But you said, ‘We will not walk in it.’” Jeremiah 6:16

“And a highway will be there;
It will be called the Way of Holiness.
The unclean will not journey on it;
It will be for those who walk in that Way;
Wicked fools will not go about on it.
No lion will be there,
Nor will any ferocious beast get up on it;
They will not be found there.
But only the redeemed will walk there,
And the ransomed of the Lord will return.
They will enter Zion with singing,
Everlasting joy will crown their heads.
Gladness and joy will overtake them,
And sorrow and sighing will flee away.” Isaiah 35:8-10

“Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them. Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’” Isaiah 30:20-21

I am waiting. Fearfully and with too much anticipation.

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” 1 John 4:16

Then why am I afraid?

Back to Work: Tara Returns to Kenya

2010-05-10T15:50:00.001+03:00

I am sitting on the floor in our ministry house in Fedha. A couch is working as my table. The sun is just beginning to sink behind the wall outside. It’s that quiet, lazy hour when the couch is trying to tempt me into taking a nap. That couch is good at that, especially at this hour. I know if I succumb to temptation, I won’t wake up till nine pm and then I won’t sleep at all. So no, I will resist and write an update…

The house is quiet. It’s empty now, just me and my singing computer. Praise God for my computer. Without it, and without the noise from it, I would be severely creeped out, especially at night when I hear funny noises all around me. I tend to have an overactive imagination and too easily recall bad twilight episodes and horror stories people have told me whenever I’m by myself at night. The music and movies from my computer are a good distraction and keep me company. Much better company than the ants who keep trying to take over our kitchen.

The alone time is nice though. Life has been busy and the stillness is good for me. God has been convicting me on how I need to be more purposeful in making sure I spend a good amount of time in prayer and the word. I can let that slip too much when I get busy sometimes.

I survived the busride to Kenya. It was only 12 hours instead of 14 this time. It was an easy one. No police pulling us over and searching all of us, no lines or hassles at the border, and no creepy guys sitting next to me harassing me. In fact, I pretty much slept the entire way. My injured leg wasn’t too much of a problem. It is healing. It’s still a lumpy, unsightly mess that hurts a bit sometimes, but it’s so much better than it was. I can jump and almost run again. Now I need to build back strength again. I never know when I’m going to out of the office and carrying jerricans of water or chopping wood or in an impromptu basketball game. With this job, I need to stay strong and be ready for anything.

I just ate “lunch”. Being by myself in a house really unmotivates me to eat. Last night I cooked eggs, sukuma wiki (kale), and ugali (maize meal) for myself. It took an hour, and that was a fast meal. So, I really didn’t feel like cooking lunch today. I ate boiled eggs and tried to boil maize to see if it would taste like corn. Even with butter and salt, it still wasn’t corn, but it tasted good. It did the job and will tide me over till dinner.

Our ministry how is in a place called Fedha estate. It’s a suburb of Nairobi, about 15 minutes from the big airport. In other words, about 45 minutes to an hour outside of downtown Nairobi. The population of Nairobi tends to grow faster than infrastructure and random estates and apartment buildings are constantly springing into existence all around the outskirts of the city, rapidly expanding its width and breadth like a tidal wave. The farther out of town you get, the cheaper housing is, so people go to find big houses for less money. It seems like the farther out of town you get, the less trees and running water you find too though.

Fedha is almost in a different climate zone than Nairobi. When Nairobi gets rain, Fedha doesn’t. It’s dry, a land of concrete. Our little gated community is next to a big mosque that provides us with background music five times a day. The mosque is also my landmark for when I know to get off the matatu.

Transport-wise, its better than Donholm, where I used to stay with Desh. Donholm has more traffic going to and from it, so, though Fedha is technically farther away, at least the jam isn’t so bad. There was a crackdown on noise in Nairobi too, making the matatus turn down their music at least a little. Now the matatu music isn’t quite as resonating into my soul and eardrums as it was before.

What I like in Fedha is how quiet it is here. No matatu noise or hawkers making noise outside our gates. No night clubs in the middle of the night or overnight prayer sessions being blasted over a loud speaker.
Inside the gated community, everybody lives behind more gates. The barred windows and locked doors within compounds either mean that we are even more secure, or even more likely to die in case of fire.

We have a pretty red flowering bush next to our front porch. I saw a butterfly this morning. Late afternoons/early evenings are the best, absolutely and intoxicatingly quiet and peaceful. The sun sinks behind the gates and bushes, the sky turns a light rose, and everything is bathed in the silence.

We haven’t figured out the water situation yet. We still don’t have running water into the house. We have a big black water tank in the backyard from which we fill up jerricans of water and bring them into the house. Those are heavy though. My rehabilitation period has left me a little out of shape. You really consider carefully how much you need to pee when you know each time you flush the toilet will require using some of that precious, very heavy water. I’m hoping I get strong enough soon to pour from them without spilling everywhere.

I washed clothes yesterday. Once again, a bit out of shape for that. My hands are still raw today, but over time they’ll get more used to it. The water tank freaked me out when the handle broke. I couldn’t turn it off. I kept filling up jerricans to buy me time as I tried to figure out how to fix the situation. Thankfully my pocket knife had a wrench in it and that fixed the problem, for the time being at least. Thus disaster was narrowly avoided and my afternoon made much more exciting.

I’ve been staying at the house all weekend resting. The week kinda wore me out. Last weekend was a nonstop rush of weddings, outreaches, church, packing, and goodbyes. Before I knew it, I was leaving Uganda, not sure when I would be coming back.

In Kenya, I jumped right into a four day long training with my team. Our house in Fedha wasn’t quiet for once. Instead, it was full of people and laughter as we all spent time getting to know each other better and getting more training as to the values and mission of EAC and how to work with a cross-cultural team. We all heard each other’s testimonies, played intense rounds of Blood Uno, and watched more movies than really should be humanly possible. I made chocolate chip cookies and gave them all too much candy (what’s a retreat without a sugar high, right?). Each day we had a time of worship and prayer and a time of teaching. It was such a good week. My team is awesome and I am so so excited to work more with them.

Our training finished and everyone went home. Next week, I want to go visiting friends. This weekend, though, I want to rest.

I duct taped my world map and US map to the living room walls here. It made it not so plain and makes it more lived in. I want every MST that comes to put up a picture of themselves and where they are from. Right now, we just have my picture up next to Los Angeles, but it will grow with many more pictures and cities represented. We are supposed to have MST’s start coming next month.

I have been learning a new kind of patience and acceptance of life lately. I think I kinda obsessively compulsively try to fix and organize things but there some things I can’t fix or organize right away. I have to wait. I have to accept things as they are and trust God has a reasoning behind things. Like this house, we were looking into moving but it looks like it won’t be possible for another six months. I have to accept it and make the best of it. I have gained a new appreciation though. The quietness is so good. I have been having such good times of prayer because it’s just me and God here. As much as I may want a table or a stool in this house, it is possible to live without one. It is possible to enjoy a day without running water and make do with what we have. I guess that’s my main lesson lately: accepting things as they are and making the best with what we’ve got. With time, things will come together more and more.

I do like the front bedroom’s closet. It’s huge! I unpacked and kidnapped it. Technically with my position I have room and board at the house here and I have been debating over what to do. As I debate, I will keep a space as my own for the time being though. I really like unpacking and hanging up clothes. I like having stuff in drawers instead of suitcases and having books on a shelf. Really makes me happy. I guess I’m selfish. I don’t like sharing a bedroom with 8 other girls. I like having my own space and place to come back to to pray and be alone.

Our team has been together for five months now, but we still have a long way to go. My team and I came to the conclusion the other day that God has been teaching us that He is the one building this ministry, not us.

I wholeheartedly agree. As much as I may plot and plan and organize, God has been the one who started this and the one who has been acting and doing things, often in a way that I don’t agree with at all at first. Yet, this isn’t my ministry, it’s His and He knows the best way to start things off. With the accident keeping me in Uganda, it’s almost as if He was showing me how really unimportant I am. Things can go on, whether I’m there or not. It’s His, not mine.

At the same time, I am truly excited for my job now with this team. It’s almost as if there is a Tara-shaped niche here, just for me to fill, where what is lacking on this team is exactly the kind of things I am passionate about doing-administrative and office work, team building, team training, decision-making and problem solving. And with this team-they sharpen me and humble me so much and I have so much to learn from them.

Well, I guess that’s enough of my adventures for now. I’m sure there will be more to share with you next week! 

Please keep us in your prayers! Pray for God to grow and unify this team. Pray that God would give me wisdom in decision-making and becoming the kind of leader that this team needs. Pray that I would be worthy of the calling I have received.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=171036&id=664174054&l=7f41afb1c0

Blessings in Disguise

2010-04-23T16:08:00.003+03:00

It’s another Tuesday in Kampala. It rained late in the night but I woke up to a bright, sunny morning. Geckoes were crawling on the wall above my head making funny noises, and there was still a stupid mosquito buzzing around inside my net. At least three woke me up in the middle of the night and I killed the sneaky little buggers. My net was all tucked in. I don’t know how they did it.

We had devotions this morning. Jeff talked about faith and deeds in James. Jonah led us in worship. I didn’t know one of the songs but I knew the others. The team went off to Victory Primary School this morning. Schools are closing for a month long holiday next week so it’s our last week of schools till the end of May. I stayed back to do office work. Also, I don’t have quite enough energy for a couple hundred crazy kids yet. I better give it a little more time before I attempt that.

Sheila is cooking meat in the kitchen. I can smell it. It smells so good. The internet is out again, which puts a damper on the work I was going to do today. The internet rebels everyday it seems. I don’t know if we need to exorcise these computers or anoint them with oil or what. No matter how many times we call the people in to fix it, it is determined not to work. Everything seems to go slower than I want it to sometimes-work, healing, transport, cooking, everything.

I thought I was just about walking normally, then I saw my shadow and realized I was still limping. Felix says I need to walk normally now. It’s a nice idea but my swollen thigh still yells at me when I move. It’s still the size of a baseball. Felix said I need to massage the bruise. Ivan has been trying to but I nearly kicked him in the face the other day when he did. I know it’s necessary but it is not the highlight of my day. I did manage to walk all around the block yesterday without crutches. I shopped for food and even cooked dinner. It’s been a long time since I did that. It seemed like quite the accomplishment.

I guess living in one place for a year makes people get used to you, even people whose names you don’t know. People around know what I walk like normally (and they used to comment that it’s like a “gangsta” or a “rasta”) and they recognize something is off. I’ve had everyone from the security guard and cashier at the supermarket to the lady who sells samosas on the corner to the hooligans at the lumber yard asking what happened and telling me to heal quickly. I appreciate the sentiments.

The power went off last night after I cooked. The house was too too quiet. Jonah and Ivan were at school. Jayan was at church and Beth was in her room doing computer work. My computer died and I was bored. So I called Genni and Julius and told them I was coming over to visit. (Genni is my British friend who works with the deaf/blind kids at the school for the deaf and Julius is her boyfriend who is the carpenter at the school).

She was cooking by candlelight when I got there. Power was off in all of Ntinda it looked like. I had never thought of it before, but you can’t see sign language in the dark. I realized how hard it could be for her and Julius to communicate whenever the power goes out (he’s deaf). She said they use tactile sign language until a lamp is lit. That’s the same kind of sign language they use on the kids that are both deaf and blind.

They are both wonderful people and it always makes me happy to visit. I learn a lot too. Yesterday I learned the sign for gorilla. I also learned the signs for village and potatoes. I felt very accomplished. We tried to watch an Indian movie on Genni’s laptop but it was all in Hindi with no subtitles. We gave up and they walked me home. Ntinda is very dark when the power is off.

It’s been a very chill week here. I’ve been trying to take it easy and just do computer work around the office all week. Sarah and Claire have been helpful in giving me advice on how to run things in Kenya. There’s a whole lot of things I don’t know that I need to learn. It’s been good being able to run a lot of questions by them.

One thing I’ve been learning is that pretty much every organization has money issues, i.e. there is never quite enough money for all the things you want to accomplish. And, once you accept that fact, you have to just make do with what’s available and be creative. A lot of problem solving is all about creativity.

I found chocolate bars on sale for fifty cents at the supermarket the other day. I was so excited I bought four of them. It wasn’t fantastic chocolate, but it was chocolate, and that made it all worthwhile. Ivan and I made cookies on Sunday, real chocolate chip cookies. They were amazing. As much as Beth made fun of them for their tiny size and roundness (she called them “pebbles”), they sure tasted good and were gone by evening.

Evenings have been quiet. A lot of rain and thunder and lightning. I watched Hairspray one night and Pirates of the Caribbean 1 another night. I have been taking advantage of the internet to call friends and family at home on Skype. Ivan and I went out for tea and popcorn a couple of nights at a little shop that overlooks Ntinda. I like quiet weeks. It’s a nice break from my usual busy craziness. It’s a lot of learning to wait and learning to take each day as it comes.

I’ve been in Uganda a month now. I was supposed to stay two weeks. I am thankful for this month. It’s been really nice, maybe a blessing in disguise.

Shut Up and Rejoice!

2010-04-12T16:16:00.000+03:00

I’m getting better at crutches. Each day my leg hurts a little less and I can hop a little more. I’m getting good at using the crutches as chopsticks to pick up things I need too. I think the kids at Katalemwa will be really excited with me this week. I’ll fit in.

Everywhere outside I go I get stared at even more than usual. Since mzungus are invincible (according to popular belief), seeing one that isn’t makes everyone talk. Yesterday, the entire staff of a restaurant stopped working and clumped together talking and staring at me.

I think I’m a bit of a woos though. The doctor who was rechanging my bandage yesterday made fun of me when I screamed and complained when he stuck is finger into my recently stitched calf.
“You haven’t had a baby yet have you?”

Nope. Maybe someday, after I have, I’ll find my current softball size bruises feel like a gentle massage more than angry jabs of torment.

I really hadn’t planned on becoming a cripple this week. It wasn’t in my calendar anywhere. I had too many other things planned and a lot of work to do before finally ending up back in Kenya on Monday morning.

It’s Sunday. There’s no way I am going on a 14 hour bus ride to Nairobi tonight. I can’t leave till my stitches are out and I’m off crutches. God has different plans than I do, apparently.

It all started Wednesday afternoon. One boda boda (motorcycle) refused to take me where I was going for the amount I wanted to pay, so I decided to keep walking till I found one who would. I went to cross the street to find a boda. On the right hand side, the truck was stopped. (oh…in Uganda, jay walking is the appropriate means of crossing a street since there are very few established crossings and where those exist, they are rarely heeded by vehicles or pedestrians). On the left hand side, a little car was coming, but they would have to stop since traffic was stopped, so I stepped out to cross .

Then I noticed a couple of things in a split second. First off, the car coming wasn’t stopping. Secondly, it was going to hit the other truck. Thirdly, I was in between the car and the truck and *crash! The next thing I knew, the car smashed right into my legs.

“Crap. I was just hit by a car. That can’t be good,” I marveled to myself in disbelief. I smacked the car with my hand and then started pulling myself up onto the hood of the car.

I was going to try to continue walking and then realized my left leg was hurt and there would be no walking. Some people’s arms were quickly opening the car door and putting me inside, not listening to my protests. It was good they put me in though, to keep the hooligans around from trying to rob me.

“We are going to take you to the doctor,” a man told me as he slipped behind the wheel.

“No, but…but...” I started to protest. Then I saw blood and I was done protesting. There was a deep gash on my left calf, much deeper than a bandaid and duct tape would fix. I realized I had better go to the doctor to make sure I wasn’t dead or broken or something.

Now those speed bumps and potholes that seem to breed like rabbits on Ugandan roads are irritating on a normal day. When injured, you poignantly feel every single one like someone is slapping your injuries. My initial shock wore off with the speed bumps and I started moaning and writhing in the back seat.

We pulled into a little hospital not far from Ntinda and some hands carefully lifted me into a wheelchair. I found myself on an examination table in a back room. The man who drove and the distraught jaja (grandmother) from the car were with me.

I realized it was the jaja that had been driving when I was hit. She was beside herself in guilt and grief. She incessantly kept praying for me and asking for forgiveness in both Luganda and thickly accented Lugandan English, sometimes talking to me, sometimes to God.

“My dear child-y. Forgive me! Forgive me! Father, forgive me! Satan-y away from me! Dear God-u, help this child-y. She is a foreigner in our country! She has no family here! Heal her, father! She is in pain-y” she cried out over and over again.

Nurses in white uniforms surrounded me and were talking a lot in Luganda, poking at my legs, and I really began to hurt. I writhed on the table, wondering what was going on and what these people were doing to me. When they tried to put in an IV, I protested heavily.

Ivan appeared through the curtain, having rushed on a boda to the hospital. It was like seeing the sun come out on a cloudy day. There was someone I knew who could help make sense of things and look over me. He came, took my hand, and stayed with me thereafter, calming me down and making jokes. Before long, I saw Sarah, Beth, Felix, and Jonah peek their heads in through the curtain and waved, before going to sit in the waiting area. I wasn’t alone anymore. My family came.

It was a long day of tests. Outside in the hallway, everyone was praying. The EAC crew was praying for me along with jaja and her family. The EAC bunch made sure to pray for jaja too. She needed it.

All the prayers worked. Nothing was broken, the x-rays told us, but that didn’t keep me from screaming and weeping in agony when the doctor told me to turn on my left side for an x-ray. They had to call Felix and Ivan in to make me turn over and hold me down. I probably would have punched someone but Ivan was holding me too tight and Felix is too nice for me to punch.

Though the cut on my calf looked nasty, it was the softball sized black lump on my left upper thigh, and the mess of bruises on the back side of my left upper leg that really screamed. My right leg was a trooper. It came out of the accident with only a scratch and a little bruise on the knee cap, but besides that it was unscathed, and strong enough to help me get up and down from various examination tables.

My cut got stitched up with six whole stitches, my first ever. Since I was little, I’ve been a very boring child. No broken bones, major disasters or horrific injuries, so all the shots, injections, and attempts at IV’s were not a happy experience, but probably a necessary addition to my list of life experiences.

When I was finally wheeled out of the busy part of the hospital, I came into a quiet little self-contained room with a hospital bed in it. The jaja was sitting in a chair there, still apologizing profusely and checking up on me. Soon I met her niece, both her sons, and a flock of little grandchildren in bright school uniforms. Everyone came as soon as they could in support and were wishing me quick recovery and assuring me that all my hospital bills would be covered by them.

The Jaja, it turns out, spent 26 years as the head of the babies’ orphanage our team visits every week. She absolutely loves children and, though she retired three years ago, she opened up a daycare to keep her busy.

Her sons are both government lawyers. They decided not long ago that it was high time their mother drove herself around rather than going through the hassle of public transportation, so they bought her a car. That afternoon she was in her new car with her driving instructor getting lessons and was almost back to her house when she hit me. She didn’t want to drive ever again.

Back in the hospital room, we couldn’t help but feel sorry for the dear lady and forgive her fully. She and her family were beyond kind to us. The family had already paid for me to have the hospital room for the night, just in case. All my friends from EAC came in to wish me well and Ivan came in with a bouquet of roses. I have learned just how important it is to visit people in the hospital and take care of people when they are sick.

Though the doctor said I didn’t need to stay, we decided I would, since it was paid for anyways. Ivan stayed with me, acting has head care-taker for the night (aka almighty fetcher of water, fluffer of pillows, and interpreter of all situations happening). Ivan made an excellent nurse, though I sorely put him to the test. I was pretty pathetically useless and got even worse through the night. It was good we stayed. I don’t know if it was the medicine I was on, the shock endured that day, or the stomach flu that was circulating our house back in Ntinda, but that night I woke up in bad shape. You know your loved when someone holds your hair back as you vomit and then washes out the basin for you.

The next day, the doctors were puzzled over my fever and vomiting spree that continued the entire day. They put me onto an IV drip, and I didn’t complain this time, as I knew I wasn’t keeping down any food, water, or medicine. They never did figure out what it was. It was a miserable day.

The next morning, started off on a sunny note. I woke to find myself feeling alive and almost hungry. Food actually sounded appetizing. I knew that had to be some kind of breakthrough. There was no fever or aches or chills anymore and I had energy.

Ivan tried very hard to figure out how to brush my hair. He couldn’t do it so we both gave it up and settled onto eating breakfast, which I accomplished much to both of our joy. Then I ate at lunch again too with no bad side effects, and we started asking the doctors if we could go home.

They sent me home on crutches late in the afternoon. I hobbled into our house to find Kirsten in bed with malaria, and Beth still not fully recovered from her stomach flu.

“Welcome back! Water’s off and internet’s been off three days,” Kirsten told me as I came in. In other words, the usual drama of life at the house.

“Oh. Ok. Maybe I should go back to the hospital then,” I said later.

The day I got hit, I had been reading in 2 Cor 4:16-18, which says:

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

I found that ironic later. This past week has been teaching me what a big baby I am. I try so hard to avoid all kinds of pain and discomfort. And I spend so much time complaining over stupid little things like kitchen lights that don’t work, no running water, internet going out, someone doing something that irritates me, instead of looking at the bigger picture of what it is that I’m doing and what it is I am a part of and how God sees things. I complain much too much and am far too focused on my own comfort. I want things as I want them, not necessarily as they are. Yet that’s a horrible attitude.

All the pain and trials that I face have a purpose in my life and will achieve a future glory that is far more worthwhile. All of this is temporary. These trials are light and momentary compared with the big scheme of things. Those days of misery that seem like they will last forever won’t.

I wore a pair of shorts yesterday that I know Ivan hates, but they were the only ones I had left clean. Maybe I should have thrown them out long ago. We’ve had many arguments over my stubbornness in such matters. I apologized when he came to take me back to the doctor. He just smiled. “It’s ok. I let it go. Someone once told me, ‘Are the little things you fight about worth losing the relationship?’ It’s not going to change and I have too accept that about you.”

I sat upright and started thinking. How much does that same idea apply to other areas of life? Like my life here in Africa. Am I going to let the millions of day to day annoyances keep me from wanting to live here and love what I am doing? Am I going to let my daily discomforts keep me from experiencing the joy God has for me in doing His work? If I have to wait for everything to be perfect before I stop complaining, I’m going to have a long time to wait.

So it’s Sunday now. Still no running water. Now the power is out too. I am learning a whole new level of dependence and humility. I have to yell for help for people to bring me buckets of water to wash my hands and have them flush the toilet for me. I have to beg for people to go out to bring me food and water, but I can almost wash my feet by myself now and my bruises are more charcoal than black now. And God has some reason for me to spend more time in Uganda and has more lessons for me to learn here.

Lesson of today…shut up and rejoice!

Happiness

2010-04-02T11:21:00.000+03:00

“Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.”
Robert Frost

Have you ever been overwhelmingly happy? Like the kind of happy that makes you go to sleep with a smile on your face and then wake up then next morning with the smile still there? I was trying to write an update. Words didn’t capture it. Between these pictures and this poem, I think that will have to capture it.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=160314&id=664174054&l=48c348addf

Oh Uganda....

2010-03-22T12:45:00.002+03:00

Beth is cooking lunch today. She wanted to make the posho (cornmeal) green with food coloring but the Ugandans protested. “We won’t eat it,” they said.

“But it is still the same thing! Just a different color! What’s the big deal?” she insisted.

Needless to say, we are having white posho for lunch, with beans and eggplant. I’m going to try to avoid the eggplant as much as possible. Beans and posho (regardless of color) is fine, but at eggplant I draw a line.

We had a planning meeting this morning. The Ugandan team is visiting our training center property tomorrow to prepare for the summer trip working on the land. We have a sponsor kid meeting on Saturday where we are filling out forms on the health of each child. Most of our staff has tests that day for university so we were scrambling to decide who would take which age level of students. I am looking forward to seeing my kids again.

Felix was already asking for help with sorting out the yearly updated pictures of the kids. We had just finished finally getting new pictures of all the kids, then the year changed, and we have to take all new ones. Getting the lighting and the kids’ positioned is harder than it looks. They’ve had two meeting this year already and had to scrap a lot of the attempts at pictures. Hopefully we’ll finish them up this week.

I am also trying to organize things for the Kenya office from this side-sending out budgets, creating a Kenya orientation packet, and a list of rules and policies for our office. In addition, I need to sit down with each staff of EAC Uganda to find out what exactly they are responsible for so that I can then train our Kenyan staff to do the same. The Kenyans had questions on what they do, and I realized I needed to first learn their jobs before I can teach them theirs.

I am praying that we can have a Kenya team trip to Uganda next month. That way the Kenyans can talk to the Ugandans and really get their questions answered well. It would also provide some much needed team bonding and a time for me to train the team more. The problem is funding. It’s been harder to raise money for the ministry lately and so we are just praying that enough funds are available for the trip to happen. Please pray for that with me.

We are also praying to be able to change houses in Nairobi. Our house in Fedha is a good two hour commute to each project (meaning four hours in travel time everyday). Besides that, I really want a house with running water. As beautiful as the house is, the water still doesn’t run, despite how much we pump water. With summer teams coming, I want to be in a better location. Yet, that will take God to open up some major doors. Please pray that it happens!

I ran around Nairobi last week working on ministry logistics. Nancy and I worked on opening up a bank account for the ministry, as well as opening up a post office box. Both will be long processes, but at least they have begun. We also had to sit down to make budgets of expenses per month as well as budgets for materials still needed for the house.

My favorite part of the week was hangin out with our team. I met with each team member individually and asked them about the ministry and how things were going. They are so excited for the ministry and God is so evidently working in their lives, that I couldn’t help but also get excited and encouraged. We have such a fantastic, committed team of Kenyans. 

I left for Uganda on Thursday night, but not before my phone got stolen out of my backpack in Nairobi. I was waiting for that to happen. It’s Nairobi. Everyone goes through a phone a year, if not more, it seems. So, my cheap little phone disappeared, with all my sim cards. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything more. I’ll work on getting a new phone today.

The weekend went by in a happy bliss. My boyfriend, very anxious for my return, utilized the weekend to the utmost and we went for pork and the beach. We also were able to visit the Rocky Peak Celebrate Recovery team in Masanafu on Sunday morning. We came in right as Dave Mirback was finishing up a sermon. Dad, Linda, Karen, and Dave were all overflowing with stories from the wonders God had done in northern Ethiopia that week. And Uganda looked like a paradise after the rugged dryness of the region of Ethiopia they stayed in.

The team is continuing to train leaders for CR in Gaba and Masanafu until tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon, I go to pick up dad and take him home to stay with us. 

Well, it’s time to see how Beth did cooking. ….bye!

nimerudi Kenya

2010-03-15T12:09:00.000+03:00

Hi! So I'm safe and sound in Nairobi Kenya at the moment. Flights went well. I I had an 18 hour layover in London which was happily spent in the tiny, inconsequential British town of Harpenden. A Ugandan friend of mine is staying with a British family there volunteering with community outreaches like we do in UG. She's been in the UK for two months and was much in need of some "ugandan" company. As excited as I was to get a shower, real food, and a bed (as opposed to starving and sleeping in chairs at the airport like usual), that stil didn't compare with the joy of seeing Lynn and getting caught up with her. It's not easy to get used to a new culture and I don't envy her working in the UK. That's a hard place to do ministry. I was happy to be there. I know how good it can be to see a friend from "home" when you are in a new place. :)

I was able to attend her British bible study and experience entirely new culture shock, which I enjoyed. Yet Lynn and I were so excited to talk that we ended up staying up nearly the whole night, meaning i did all my sleeping onthe plane. :) That's the way to spend layovers for sure!

I've been a hermit the past few days and trying, in vain, to recover from jetlag. It will pass eventually. In the meantime, today I"m finally getting out and seeing people, catching up on EAC Kenya news from team members, trying to open bank accounts, and other such logistics. That's all for now!

Goodbye USA

2010-03-10T23:02:00.000+03:00

It’s cold this morning. Too cold. I just made chai and turned the space heater on and am huddled in front of it, but I’ve been cold all morning. At least the sun is waking up, finally, but even that doesn’t seem to help much. I won’t miss this when I’m back on the equator again.

Dad woke me up this morning at about 4:30am. He was finishing up last minute packing and preparations before leaving with the church missions team to Ethiopia. His bag was overweight, and it was my fault, because I had given him around ten pounds of Bibles and other miscellaneous items to carry for me.

The ticket I bought to go back to Africa is a missionary ticket that allows me to bring three bags, however three bags seem to fill up just as quickly as two. I don’t see how they fill up so quickly! Actually, I do know. God has provided so magnificently for all I needed that I don’t have room for it all!

If you remember a few weeks ago I sent out an email asking for craft supplies. I got a call from a woman from church and was able to clean out one of their disbanded children’s programs craft cupboards, giving me an incredible surplus of fantastic craft supplies. In addition, several people brought me bags of office and craft supplies as well, filling up an entire suitcase and then some!

Somehow books get really heavy. Children’s books, Bibles, and hygiene items filled up another suitcase. I couldn’t even fit the peanut butter and baby wipes. Maybe next year. The last suitcase is overflowing with clothes. Not that I need that much clothing. I debated a lot about that and decided that its better to take too many clothes and then give some away than to just leave them to rot in dad’s closet.

The LA Loves Tara event held last Friday was a huge success. Many thanks to all of you who attended the event. It was a joy to see you there and very encouraging for me. And, once again, God has provided. Through all of your generosity, there should be enough for me to live on this next year.
Every year, God uses different channels and means, but one thing remains the same, He always provides. Always, always.

I can’t even express how grateful I am for everyone’s prayers and support and encouragement. There have been too many sweet moments and precious times the past few weeks to recount them all. I am overwhelmingly blessed by the family and friends that I have. It’s been such a privilege to get to see everyone again and catch up a bit. People ask me what I miss when I’m in Africa. I miss my network of friends here. I miss the people I can meet up and have coffee with, go for a hike with, and discuss how their week was after church. I miss late night sleepovers and early morning prayer hikes. I miss how long it takes me to walk from the small auditorium to the large on a Sunday morning because of all the people I have to stop to talk to. Yet I am so thankful I was blessed enough to come home for this sweet time.

Will miss you all so much till next time I can come back! (no, I don’t know when that is. But God does! We’ll see what happens!)

Please pray for my journey and the journey of the Rocky Peak team. Pray for God to use the Ethiopia/Uganda teams for His glory and to impact the lives of the people there. Pray for God to use me to help encourage my Kenya team during the time I am there too! (I am going to Kenya for a week to do some work before meeting up with my dad and my friends in Uganda for another couple of weeks. After that I finally go back to Kenya to really start work).
God bless and much love to all!
Tara

Pictures from Home

2010-02-26T09:15:00.000+03:00

The cabin trip: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=151989&id=664174054&l=c0aea44e49

Around Home: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=150595&id=664174054&l=a0bc4800ef

Random pictures of normal life: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=151992&id=664174054&l=fef0eb2498

The Cabin

2010-02-26T09:10:00.000+03:00

"But the sweat of one's brow is no longer a curse when one works for God. It proves a tonic to the system, and is actually a blessing. No one can truly appreciate the charm of repose unless he has undergone severe exertion." David Livingstone

I first learned to climb rocks at grandma’s cabin. That was back when the big grey rock by the stream’s edge was taller than me. It isn’t taller than me anymore, but I still climb rocks.

I learned how to jump rocks at grandma’s cabin too. I’d start by delicately stepping from rock to rock across the stream, slowly building up confidence to start jumping farther and farther, inevitably falling in and getting my shoes all wet. Soon I’d have no fear and would just wade through the chilly water, still jumping from rock to rock, but also jumping right into deep spots and getting soaked higher and higher on my body. I always brought extra shoes and extra clothes to the cabin. Wet shoes are no good for hiking, and after stream jumping, there is always more hiking.

I didn’t bring extra shoes this time. I figured that since I’m 24, I wouldn’t be playing in the water, and (more decisively, cause last time I was here at age 23, I did play in the water) it’s winter, and that means the water is frigid and the wind in the canyon isn’t much better. I should have brought an extra pair of shoes though. I still fell in. I didn’t mean to. I was trying to build a bridge across a stream crossing with an old log. The stream has swollen from the winter rains making it more difficult to cross. Grandma, Biji the dog, and I were trying to see how far we could get upstream. The bridge idea worked on the first two stream crossings but not on the third. When testing the solidness of it, it shifted, showing it really wasn’t solid enough, and sending the frigid water right up to my ankle.

Maybe next time I’ll remember to bring extra shoes. I guess that isn’t one of the lessons I’ve learned. I’ve learned other things though. I remember when I was little and dad used to show me how to catch lizards when they are sunning themselves on rocks. I liked catching salamanders better. They move slower and just have funny faces. Grandma made sure to tell me not to catch snakes that rattle, though I nearly stepped on a couple. She also told me not to touch the stinging nettle. I did anyway to see what would happen. It stung. I did avoid the poison oak though. “Leaves of three, let them be,” she always said.

I hiked to Hermit falls yesterday. I don’t know why it’s called that. It just is. Maybe there was once a hermit who lived there. I guess that would be a good place for a hermit to live. It’s pretty hard to get to.

It’s another mile hike from the cabin, through solitary forests and stretches of trail. To get to where you can see the waterfall itself is quite a climb and a scramble down a rock wall. I took my jr. highers to Hermit falls a few years ago. We managed to get most of the girls down through the narrow cliff of rocks to where the falls can really be seen in all its glory, it’s deep pond surrounded by sheer rock, crashing into the stream below, but it was not an easy trip.

I was a bit in awe of that accomplishment yesterday. I was a bit intimidated to climb down those rocks and shimmy through those cavities to get to where I could see the falls. I knew I had done it before, but it looked hard. Slowly by slowly, one step at a time, I made it down, and it was well-worth it. There are a lot of things like that it seems.

Grandma was telling me about her backpacking trip this summer. “I knew it would hurt and I had to think long and hard if it was worth the pain. I decided to do it and in the end, it was worth it.” She’s in her 80’s. She went on a backpacking trip where one of the days she had to walk eight miles to get to her location. I would have a hard time walking eight miles and I’m 24. It’s the same kind of thing. One step at a time, you get there eventually. In the end, it’s worth it, though you wake up really sore.

The walk back to the cabin was quiet and peaceful. No one else was around at all. At some points I could see a break through the trees up the mountainsides of the canyon. The stream was louder than when I was last here. Last time it whispered from its thirsty stretch of summer. Now it was full and roaring happily, covering the dams with waterfalls and filling up the ponds deep and overflowing. There aren’t many sounds I love as much as the sound of the stream. At night it’s the sweetest of lullabies and at day it’s the most exciting of background songs-always calling me to come outside to play.

The trees lining the canyon were different from the last time I was here too. In summer, the sky above was blotted out by a canopy of emerald green. Now it was only a feathery gray dancing of naked branches. Fall is the most spectacular of all-a red and golden sunset of colors in the branches, but that same spectacular scene makes a dismal never-ending job of raking.

The first time I came to grandma’s cabin I was barely born-only a few months old, carried on my mother’s front. That was about the time grandma got the cabin. She’ll be celebrating 25 years in the cabin this year. I’ll be celebrating 25 years of life this year. I hope we both get cake.

Grandma’s cabin, cabin #7, isn’t much to look at. It’s walls of forest green and river stone were designed to camouflage themselves against the palette of forest behind them. It’s not supposed to stand out or be extravagant. That’s one of the lessons it teaches people: the joys of living simply.

The candles, lanterns and flashlights illuminate the walls at night , driving out the darkness. The tiny rooms are draped in a warm, cozy laziness when the fire gets going. Last night, the fire dried my wet shoes and jeans. The fire also roasted the marshmallows for my s’mores and burned all the trash from dinner. That’s easier than carrying it out with us the next day. Everything we need has to be carried in on our backs. By the same logic, anything that goes out also has to be carried out with us. We’d rather burn the extra pancakes them carrying them in our backpacks. It makes the fire happy anyways.

Grandma’s cupboards are still stocked with boxed milk. I love that stuff, only because that’s the only place I get it and it reminds me of the cabin. When I throw it into the fireplace, the smoke comes out the straw like a little chimney first before the box is finally engulfed in flames.

Grandma always overfeeds me. She’s an amazing cook and there is always such a superfluous amount of delicacies, that no one can go home hungry ever, even in the middle of the forest. After dinner is always story time. Last night, we settled in the cozy chairs around the heat emanating from the river stone fireplace and stories began. It’s not often you meet someone who has mastered the art of not only telling stories, but also listening to stories. That’s just one of my grandmother’s many gifts. She asked me questions about my life and listened to my stories, and also shared her own, and she has many to share, with her blue eyes twinkling in the golden glow, giving a hue to her white hair.

Last night grandma was talking about her first memory of a mountain trip, when she first learned to love being in the mountains. She was four years old and her family went camping in Yosemite. Ever since then, she has loved being in the mountains. I guess I follow suit cause whenever I need to think or pray, I go to the mountains. There’s just something about the mountains…

Since I’ve come home, I’ve been trying to see my grandparents as much as I can. That’s one thing that really grieves me about being gone for a whole year. I need to take advantage of all the firelight story telling times I can get, carefully storing them in the archives of my mind and journals for all time.

I woke to the sound of the stream and the sound of grandma making pancakes. The loft with the bed still has the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. The ceiling is so low I can’t stand, making it harder to make the bed. The coals from the previous night’s fire were just enough to start the morning’s fire.

All morning, Grandma was as busy as ever, sweeping floors, washing dishes, raking leaves, fixing things, and commenting on how she needs to clean out the cupboard. The cabin is her refuge, yet she spends all her time working there, and loves it.

I made myself busy with the woodpile. We were running out of good fire-sized pieces of wood and so starting hacking logs with a hatchet. By the time we hiked the mile entirely uphill back to the parking lot, we were tired. My legs were shaking and trembling and my arms were sore. There is no work out like chopping wood and climbing up a mountain.

I hope I go to the cabin again before I go back. If I don’t, that’s ok, as long as I see Grandma again. The cabin is a place, a special place, but only special because of the person I am always with there.

I Hate Making Decisions

2010-02-14T08:09:00.000+03:00

I hate making decisions. That is one of my shortcomings in life. Once I make a decision, heaven help the person who tries to dissuade me from it, but the process of coming to a decision might as well be pulling teeth. This can be seen in my aversion to shopping. I can spend forever in the grocery store debating which kind of deodorant to buy and in what quantity. Dad took me to buy shoes the other day. He finally gave up on me and left to wander the shop while I deliberated over just what was the perfect pair of sandals to buy-the ones I always buy that are tried and true, or branching out and trying a different variety that could be better or worse?

Now life decisions are even worse than stupid shopping decisions, obviously, since they have wider implications. Yet I have to make those all the time too. I had a hard time figuring out which college to go to after high school. I was in between Moorpark and Pierce for a long time. I didn’t make a decision till I was taking my Psychology AP test and it asked where to send my results to. Then I had to decide. Moorpark won because I liked the drive there better.

Sometimes God makes decisions easy on me. He just speaks to me in weights and impressions on my heart that show me the path I am supposed to take. That was how I ended up in Kenya the first time and how I started working with my bunch of Wildlife girls. God showed me the way very clearly.
Other times He uses circumstances and people to show me the way. He closes and opens doors in such ways that I know exactly what I am supposed to do. He did that with deciding what school I was going to after Moorpark. He opened and shut doors and had just the right people talk to me and just the right time where I knew what I was supposed to do.

Other times, He isn’t so specific and I hate those times. He makes me choose. Oh the decisions! The process of making them plagues my life! I make elaborate lists of options, carefully weighing pros and cons, and running through various scenarios in my head. I talk to other people and research things, and spend a lot of time in prayer and thought in the mountains. Yet God remains quiet and I have to decide. I have to choose what’s best, jump, and pray He catches me.

A friend of mine said once, “God doesn’t care so much what you do, as long as it pleases Him. He doesn’t care what country you end up working in, if you are going to do His work. Besides, if you choose a country, and He doesn’t want you to go there, He can just crash the plane.”

Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but she had a point. There are times when God gives me freedom to choose. When I went to Ethiopia and Kenya in 2007, I had a month to pull it all together. I had no idea if this was actually God’s will for me or if it was just me trying to get my way. I was afraid my own desires would get in the way of what I was actually supposed to do. I was praying and praying, “God, you know I want this, but is this what you want? I’m scared. Will you catch me if I jump?” I jumped, and He caught me, more strongly than I could have imagined if I tried. He didn’t let me crash and He more than blessed my decisions.

I guess I’m too much of a planner sometimes. I like to know what’s going on with everything and have everything under control and that’s just not possible. That leaves no room for trust or faith on my part. It also leaves no room for God to come through at the eleventh hour and make sure all the glory goes to Himself. You’d think that as many times as God has taught me this lesson, I’d know it by now. I don’t. He still has to keep showing me again and again and again. Seems like at least a couple of times a year, I have to relearn this lesson in various areas of life.

I had to relearn it again this week. The area of finances comes in, as usual. I found out this week that EAC will not be paying me after all, once again putting me back at square one. As usual, I have no money and very little time and a lot of money to raise. As usual, being in this place shows me my lack of faith in God’s provision. He will provide. He always does. Yet I wasn’t looking forward to the whole process of stepping out in faith again.

Then I have a lot of decisions to make. I am going to go work in Kenya, but for how long? In what capacity? Where will I live and with who? My boyfriend isn’t so excited about me working in Kenya. He is still in school in Uganda. He’s afraid that Kenya will steal me from him forever and I have to make a lot of decisions there. Where is it that I want to spend the rest of my life? What do I really want to do? Should I even marry, considering how much my life fluctuates? If I want to marry and have kids, what does that look like? How do I know who I should marry and if it will work out? And is what I want even to be taken into consideration, or am I just supposed to wait and listen for what God wants? Ultimately my life is for His pleasure, not my own, but how does that factor into all these decisions?

For the past couple of years, I kept thinking that at some point, my future path would become clear, that all the sudden, I would see what I need to do for the rest of my life and it would all come together. I thought that the haze would clear and I would see the road in front of me. It doesn’t. I can sometimes see a few steps in front of me, but never the whole road, and never ever a map. That drives me mad sometimes. I want clear answers and directions. Whenever people ask me my goals in life, I am a bit at a loss. For the past couple of years, my answer was “to be a missionary in Africa”. I’m doing that. Do I have to come up with more goals? How much am I supposed to even plan out my life and how much do I just wait and see where God leads me?

For right now, at least, I am back in the U.S., mourning the cold, but basking in the warmth of friends and family, drinking up the love and affection and friendship of people I love so much, and grateful to be here. I love being home. I am so so thankful for this time and chance to rest and relax and be with people. It also gives a chance to reflect and gain a new perspective on the past year. It’s so so necessary.

Yet this is temporary. All things are temporary. The only constant in life is change. What season comes next? God only knows. The theme of my life the past couple years has been “Lord-willing”. That continues. Lord-willing I will be back in Africa by mid-March. Lord-willing.

Homecoming

2010-01-30T18:35:00.000+03:00

I'm back in the USA now. I ate hot chocolate and the rest of my chipotle burrito for breakfast. It was lovely. I'm trying to sort through a huge stack of mail that has been accumulating for the past year-bank statements, tax forms, jury duty summons, requests for money from various NGO's, etc. I don' want to deal with most of it right now, just sort it out and put it back in the closet till next week when it's officially closet cleaning time.

I have a washing machine ready and willing to take in my dirty clothes. I'm really excited about that. I kinda just want to sit and watch and bask in the automatic cleaning glory of a washing machine.

Uganda gave me the traditional farewell. At Remand home, they drenched me while we were preparing to seperate into groups. I was soaked. It was ok except for i could no longer wear those jeans on the plane, they'd be wet in my bag, and one of the basins they used was full of little pieces of posho, which then became ingrained into my pink braided hair. An appropriate departure preperation, I think.

My flights went well. I made friends with a Norwegian girl who told me all about Norway and shared her chocolate with me. I didn't know anything about Norway so now I feel like I'm a smarter person. One important lesson: Norwegian chocolate is amazing.

Ame met me at the airport and declared the day a national holiday. "This is Tara's day. Today we will do whatever you want to do."

I approved. So first order of business was an oreo McFlurry from McDonald's. This was very important because I had to make up for the unendurable lack of good icecream in Africa. It was a good idea. This was followed by a beef burrito from Chipotle. This also, was an incredible moment of pure food-induced bliss. The food was amazing, but not as amazing as getting to be with Ame again and getting to get caught up on life. I have missed my networks and my people and being with them again is like being able to breathe again after holding my breath for a long time.

All at home are also glad to see me-Matt, Auggie, Dad. There's a comfortable, happy feeling at being back in familiar situations and familiar smells. I still automatically know where to find the cups and the hot chocolate. Some things will never change. Yet, there is a lot of change too. It takes time to fully understand and comprehend it sometimes.

I forgot that its winter here. I saw a tree with no leaves and got confused for a minute. I forgot which side the passeners sits in. McDonald's had a sign advertizing Wi-Fi now and that really baffled me too. Yet, most things are as I left them, more or less.

I'm finding that the more I change places, the faster I adjust, but only when I'm already used to the places. It's like playing guitar after not playing for years or riding a bike after letting it gather dust.

Plans for home aren't so complex. My mom is kidnapping me with my aunt next week. I have a huge closet of stuff to organize and clean out. I want to spend a lot of time with friends and family. Then there's the usual figuring out my life and future and trying to raise money to fund it. I'm looking forward for this time and am praying I can really grow deeper in my relationship with God and really gain some refreshment and refocusing. Its good to be home. :)

Death, where is thy sting?

2010-01-19T20:01:00.000+03:00

So I’ve been thinking about death a lot this week. No, not in a morbid kind of way, (and not just from my sick days of watching too much Twilight and Titanic) but it’s just come up a lot.

On Sunday at church, Pastor James asked us to pray for Paul.
“Our brother, Paul, came to Bible study on Wednesday night and ministered to us on the keyboard, as many of you remember. Since then, he has disappeared and no one has heard from him.”

We all prayed for him, prayed for him to reappear, to be ok but we all had to wait for answers.

I’ve talked with Paul a fair amount over the past year. He’s a handsome, eloquent individual, about my same age. He’s just finished university in preparation to become a high school teacher. He liked to ask me a million questions about my ponderful thoughts on life and I liked him because it’s rare I meet profound personalities that I can really have an in-depth conversation with. We didn’t talk often, just enough.

His fiancée had been the last to hear from him. Thursday morning, he called her to say he had an early morning job to pick up someone and drive them somewhere else. That was the last anyone heard of him. He just disappeared.

Over lunch we talked about him a lot. Christine was visibly worried about him.
“They have gone to the mortuary to check there. The police say there is an unidentified body there that who’s description matched Paul’s. It can’t be him though. In my spirit, I just know, it can’t be him,” she said, holding back tears.

We got a call later in the afternoon. The body was identified. It was Paul. He had been strangled to death by an unidentified murderer who ran off with his car. No one held back tears anymore.

The thing with death here is that you never know when it’s going to come or when a day will be your last. Many times in our early morning devotions, people will “give a testimony” thanking God that they are alive, that they survived through the night, because many people didn’t. I’ve realized this week what that really means.

In Uganda, death is everywhere. Every day, you come face to face with all cycles of life, from birth through death. I’ve never seen as many babies as I’ve seen here, but neither have I heard of as many people dying. It’s part of life as much as any other stage is. And it can come at anytime-when you are 2, when you are 25, when you are 50, or when you are 107. There is no guarantee of long life, or even of life. People get sick and then the next day they are gone. Or a car accident or some other tragedy takes them suddenly and then they are gone. There’s not much to be done to fight it.

In my anthropology class last week, I had my class read an article comparing the burial traditions of a tribe in southeast Asia with American burial customs. We then proceeded to discuss various beliefs concerning death and burials. It was an interesting discussion. One thing I realized was that death is rather a taboo subject for many Americans. It’s not really discussed or talked about often. Maybe that is just because of my age, but even then.

Beth, our girl from Texas, mentioned that she’s never had someone she knew die. How many people my age do you know who have lost one or both parents? If someone dies before the age of 70, there’s something wrong and they were too young. For us, people put off death as long as possible. People try to give the impression of youth as long as they can-dying hair, anti-wrinkle cream, plastic surgery, whatever it takes to beat death until they have run out of options.

Here though, you can’t fight off death. There’s no telling when someone will die. There’s no guarantee of long life. Most people I’ve met have lost one or both parents at an early age. When the average age of death is under 50, people die young. How does that change your perspective? Instead of your mid twenties being the time when life is just beginning, it’s instead the time when your life is half over? I’ve met too many young people who have died suddenly.

My class was asking me about American views of death and what happens to the spirit after death. I guess I realized I know very little about what my own culture teaches about death, other than it’s a tragedy and should be avoided as long as possible. Of course I know the Sunday-school answers, like “you go to heaven”, but do some stick around for a bit? Maybe my theology on death is a little sparse at this point. But, I guess I’ve never really thought about it before. Then again, I’ve never needed to.

I started people questions about the Ugandan views of death the night after my class was asking me questions. One thing I’ve found about learning other cultures is that it really makes me figure out and analyze my own. It’s like a freshwater fish that’s put in saltwater-it finds out what kind of water it came from by being in a different kind.

Here, the dead are always with us. Their spirits are always around, the “living dead”, both for our benefit and for our harm. There are stories of father’s spirits helping their children hunt. There are stories of harmful spirits causing illness to family members. People are sure to take care of graves and sometimes give bits of food and drink to keep the dead happy. The dead are both feared and revered. And the dead are always kept close by-at the family gravesite on the family land.

There are many stories of ghosts. There are spirits that live in water and in forests, which make the local people wonder at the foolhardy bravery of the wazungu who come to go camping in the forests and by the rivers. There are certain spots on certain highways where accidents continue to happen unexplainably. People say that ghosts cause those accidents because they want to drink the blood of the living. There are ancestral spirits that will call the spirits of the living and both give power and keep in bondage.

Then there are the ghosts that haunt wrong doers. There is a story about a man who sacrificed his child to a witchdoctor in order to get rich. Afterwards, the man had no peace. Every night, his dead son appeared to him in his dreams saying “daddy, wake up. It’s time to go and work now. That’s why you had me killed. Go and work.” And so the man could never sleep.

After the post-election violence in Kenya, people who looted and stole things had “ghosts” haunting them as well. There was a story about a man who stole rice, but as much as the rice boiled, it never got soft. There was another man who stole a bed, but the bed got stuck to his shoulder and he could never put it down until he just wanted to die.

There are also stories about murdered ghosts haunting their culprit as long as they live. I wonder how it will be for Paul’s murderer. Will he be haunted all his days by Paul’s spirit? It still makes me shudder-how do you value a car more than a human’s life? But, sometimes money makes people crazy. It makes them go into a frenzy where all they can think about is attaining it at any cost.

Sometimes people will murder out of pure envy. I have a friend whose mother was poisoned because relatives were jealous. They gained nothing, but it brought down their rival family and that was the goal. People say that can happen a lot in village settings. When someone starts doing well, they have a lot to fear because others will be jealous and start sending curses against them to bring them back down.

There is so much fear, envy, and distrust under the surface here. You’d never see it by the hospitality and smiles given, but sometimes appearances can be deceiving. Sometimes, what you see isn’t what other people see.

Like one time when we went to the village to pray over our new land. Our Ugandan friends passionately prayed over a grove of trees in the middle of the land. They prayed and prayed and prayed, despite the pouring rain and mud, for the spirits to be bound and cast out of that area. We had four Americans around who stood in awe and disbelief, then made fun of the whole scene for the rest of the week.
“Why would you need to cast demons out of trees?” they said.

I guess another question in response would be, in an area where people believe spirits live in trees and where trees can be areas of worship and used by witchdoctors to get in touch with spiritual powers, why wouldn’t you need to cast demons out of trees? In the meantime, people don’t always see things the same way, or even realize that other people see things differently.

I’m not really sure what my concluding thought or analysis of death is. It is an ever present reality and part of life, one that is very far from most of our control, as much as we may try to control it. I know that my Lord has conquered death and “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me.” Yet there still is a lot that I don’t know and will continue to learn. In the meantime, R.I.P. Paul. And may God bring justice to your enemies.

A Quiet Saturday Afternoon

2010-01-16T13:31:00.000+03:00

It’s a quiet Saturday around the house today. It’s bright, sunny, and a bird is chirping outside, along with Jonah practicing guitar. I slept in till 7am this morning and then started off the day with French toast and pina colada juice. It was a good way to start off the day. I had my hair done yesterday so it’s pink again, so kinda surprised myself in the mirror when I woke up.

With so much sunshine and the fact that it was Saturday made me very lazy and unwilling to work quickly. Meaning, Felix and Brenda were ready for office lessons much earlier than I was prepared to give them.

“Sorry guys! I’m coming!” I told them, and tried to hurry, but the French toast was so good and and morning so lovely, it still was near impossible to move quickly.

Office lessons lasted till noon. Brenda and Felix have been receiving a crash course into everything one needs to know to run the sponsorship program, as far as the office is concerned. I have a hard time compressing the information in my head sometimes and putting it in a user friendly way, but we are all learning together. Sometimes I have to organize things in my head along the way in order to make set procedures for things. We’ve been sorting everything from where to find forms, what forms are to be printed when, how to edit pictures, how to send pictures, how to add new kids to the database, etc. I’ve sent them home with lessons to practice on so when I meet them next, they will have had more experience.

Benon is trying to fix computers around here. They all are very stubborn and don’t like to cooperate with us sometimes. The internet, especially, is very stubborn. But Benon is stubborn too. He keeps trying to steal my juice, claiming he’s “cleaning the table” (aka taking my juice off the table). He goes back to school soon, meaning the house will be a lot quieter, and a bit more boring. He’ll be back over the summer to run things and make a lot of noise in the house again.

Jayan is cleaning her room. It used to be Sarah’s room. It’s a room meant for two people, instead of 8 like the others, and Jayan and Beth have claimed it as their own. As a married woman, Sarah now has her own home to go to when she is not at work. Jayan is trying to take over as house mom now. It’s not an easy job. She has to make sure we are given money to cook food, that the doors are locked at night and opened in the morning, that we have bread for breakfast each day, and that everyone signs for the money they receive. Most importantly, she has to keep tabs on the people within and make sure we all stay out of trouble, which is easier said than done sometimes.

We have three more Ugandan girls volunteering with us now, to take the place of the ones we lost. It’s good to have more girls around. We need them. They also bring a freshness and enthusiasm that is a blessing to us all and helps heal the team of some of the wounds the past few months. It’s a new year, a new team, and we all want a new, fresh start.

It will be a new year for me too. I am slowly fading out of Empower a Child Uganda. My responsibilities in the sponsorship office diminish slowly as I bestow them on other people. Felix and Brenda have to take over for me now. Each day as the team loads up into the van and noisily goes off to projects, I stay back and prepare for my long journey to Gaba. I can’t teach and go to projects both.

My cultural anthropology class is a small but mighty crew this year. I have six students, four of whom are already pastoring, or helping pastor, their own churches in various parts of Uganda. They are hungry for knowledge and eagerly apply the lessons they learn each day to the context in which they work and live. They are very grateful.

I love what I do. I realized how blessed I am to do what I do. I heard someone say one time that in order to choose your career, figure out what you would love to do even if you weren’t paid to do it. I’ve spent the last year and a half doing exactly that-doing jobs I love to do, though I’m not paid outright for them, and have just loved it. In a way, I am paid-by the people back at home who gave money for me to come. The support people have given me made it possible for me to teach, to travel to Gaba, to work in the sponsorship office, to visit the kids I see, and everything else. And there is nothing that I lack in life.

It’s my turn to cook dinner tonight. I don’t know what I’ll cook. It will be my last time cooking for everyone here so I will have to make sure it’s good. Living here as really taught me to cook from scratch well. It takes a good three hours to make dinner on any given night, about an hour to shop and then two hours to cook. But with a little music on in the kitchen, I can sing while I cook and people always walk in and out to give me company while I cook. The sun always sets while I’m cooking. All year long, the sun sets at seven, and rises at about 7. All year long, it’s warm and sunny. All year long, EAC has a flurry of work to do and all manner of random drama. All year long, there’s always something going on and something to look forward to.

I dearly love Uganda-the greenness and overwhelming beauty of the countryside, the eternal sunshine and random rainstorms, the quiet slowness of the people, the matooke and gnut sauce. Uganda is Uganda, unique from all over places. I love the house I live in and the people I live with. We have our long, lazy nights on the wall, talking and sharing stories, long hours spent cooking dinner, and random visitors that come by all the time. I love the long walks up to Kyambogo and the late nights eating pork from the pork joint. There’s a slow, easy rhythm to life here that I appreciate so so much.

I teach for one more week. Come Friday, I’m done and Friday night, Ivan and I are leaving for Nairobi. I have to meet with our team there to find out what projects they’ve investigated, and officially determine our weekly schedule and areas of focus in Nairobi. Ivan is coming to see Nairobi and keep me company on the 14 hour long busride. He also is taking his first vacation from work ever. We’ll stay for about 4 days and then I come back, pack, and leave the next day for the USA. To think that in two weeks, I’ll be back in socal is beyond my comprehension.

All seasons have their ends and their beginnings. This season is drawing to a close. I have work to do elsewhere. Yet I am so so thankful for this season I’ve lived through.

Youth Quake 2010

2010-01-08T18:14:00.000+03:00

I can’t believe how fast this year has gone by! Or how many joys, lessons, and challenges its been filled with!

My time is running out here in Uganda. January 29th, I will be back in the US for about a month or so. I am looking forward to seeing you all and getting to be in the US for a bit too! If any of you would like to see me, or have me speak anywhere, let me know!

Our office has reopened for a new year. The attitude is positive and we are trying to overcome our difficulties of the past year and learn from past mistakes. We want to be unified and to move on with life and heal from this past year. It will still take a lot of time and prayer to fully heal our team, but we are on the right track now. I am so thankful we had a few weeks off. The time spent doing other things and being with people, instead of in the very stressful office, has really refreshed me.

I am in process of trying to hand over the mantle of the sponsorship office to Felix. Pray for him and Francis as they try to manage the ever growing program with and ever shrinking number of staff and trained volunteers. They will have quite a job in front of them. Pray that God helps me train them well and that He equips them for the task!

We have returned from a lovely time at camp with our sponsor kids. About 20 of our high school students came, along with a couple hundred staff and students from other churches around Kampala. We stayed near the source of the Nile where we listened to speakers, worshipped, played sports, hung out, and made new friends. Our highlight was our New Year’s Eve party where we ushered in the New Year with a bonfire and bull roast and a dance party that lasted till after the sun rose the next morning. I fully enjoyed getting to spend time with our kids and getting to know them better. Pray that what they learned will stick and really impact their lives.

It was a bit bittersweet for me though. I really love these kids and love working with them, yet I know its time for me to move on and come home, and then start work in Kenya. It's hard to move on sometimes, but I have to go where I am called to go. I have a bad habit of being happy wherever I am and never wanting to change...so when i change places, I never want to leave whereever I am. But change is necessary at times.

For pictures from camp (I stole them from Beth, since my camera is dead...hooray for Beth!) http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=139124&id=664174054&l=d4608b916c

West Nile: Life in a Village

2009-12-27T19:51:00.001+03:00

“There is a saying here that ‘when you go into the village, deep down into the village, and you find a man shaving his head with a piece of broken pottery, because he has no razor, than you also must use a piece of broken pottery to shave, because then he will know you respect his way of life,’” man on a taxi on the way to Agier Mach, Nebbi province, northwestern Uganda.

At Christmas time schools close. Universities close. Many businesses and government offices close. Many people use this time to return to the villages from where they came. There, they meet with grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, and many other relatives whom they may only see on an occasional basis. It’s a good reminder of where they come from. Regardless of how many or how few times in their lives they go, the village is “home”, where their roots are, where their identity comes from, and where their body will be taken to rest after they die.

We went to a village in north western Uganda for three days this week. Ivan (our program coordinator/my boyfriend) and I went just a few days before Christmas. This was his third time in his life to go visit the village. The first was when he was five years old and he came along with his father’s coffin. The second time was last year for a cousin’s funeral. As we traveled, I realized why he has come so rarely. It took forever.

We left Kampala by bus around 9:30pm on a Sunday night. Day busses were full of holiday travelers so we were lucky to get seats on a night bus and even our bus was full. The bus sped along the narrow, bumpy roads, underneath a magnificent spread of city-less stars, while we fitfully tried to sleep. We finally reached Nebbi town, the capital of the province, around 3:30am. We got off and were lucky to find our connecting bus just leaving. If we had missed it, we would have had to wait on the road till morning.

Nebbi is part of the region called “West Nile,” because it is home to people living west of the Nile river. The area used to be a part of the Democratic Republic of the Congo/Sudan until Idi Amin brought it into Uganda. Yet there are still tight ties to the DRC and Sudan and much of the trade in the region comes from those areas and there is a lot of movement of people across the borders.

Our next bus flew alarmingly fast over the dirt roads till we reached the tiny town of Paidha, about an hour away. When the bus reached, it had nowhere else to go, and there was no other transportation around till morning, so the passengers slept on the bus until around 6:30am. Then we got out to find a way into our next village.

The boda boda (motorcycle) drivers tried to scare us into taking advantage of their services.

“There are no lorries until 3pm and the taxis are all full,” they said, “you should use a boda or a special hire (what we would call a taxi)”.

Of course, those charged exorbitant rates (mainly cause I was present and my being anywhere usually doubles prices).
After talking to some people, Ivan realized they were just lying to us and we started walking around the dusty little town to search out taxis (14 passenger vans…i.e. matatus). We found one just leaving with just enough seats to take us to Agier Mach.

A young boy in the seat next to us started complaining as they overstuffed the vehicle.

“It says 14 passengers. This is not 14 passengers,” he complained. Yet not much can be done and over 20 people were shoved into the van, luggage and all. Then the real journey began.

We started moving on the very bumpy dirt roads deeper and deeper into the village. It was just after the rainy season so the many hills were all green and grassy. It was a dryer environment than Kampala, full of grass and hills and trees. The air was less humid, but very hot with a dry hot like what I am used to in southern California and the dirt was a light brown, not the deep red of Kampala.

The even smaller town of Agier Mach was another three hour ride deep into the village. This main road had a few shops along it, most closed because they only open on market days. One shop sold soda (Coca Cola really is everywhere), some bars had satellite dishes on them so residents could still watch Manchester United play Chelsea and see the news. In the little towns like these, people either had generators or solar power panels if they wanted electricity.

From Agier Mach, we walked another 20 minutes along a path through fields of cassava, avocadoes, and millet to a village named Pamwodhu. Inside of villages, inhabitants are nearly entirely related to each other. Extended families keep building homes nearby each other as their families grow. Women marry out and move into their husband’s villages, but men stay in their native village their whole life, building their home house when they are old enough.

The homes in the village were diverse. Some were large brick houses with metal roofs, evidence that the owner more likely than not lived and worked in Kampala, sending money home to build the house, for them to then come to and retire in. Most houses were made out of local materials-square mud houses with thatched grass roofs with separate little huts for bathing and outhouses. Over fifty people made up the village and we were warmly welcomed by the inhabitants.

The majority of the inhabitants in West Nile are Alur, a Nilotic people related to the Acholi, the Lang’i, and the Luo of Kenya. They all speak different versions of a similar language and share some similar customs and ways of life. The language sounds a bit softer than Luganda, distinctively different than what I am used to hear in Kampala. Right away I had to begin learning new words and new customs.

“Greeting here is a virtue,” Ivan told me, teaching me how to greet in the local language. Sure enough, nearly everyone we met we had to stop and greet, but I kept forgetting how to say my new words.

Around the village, people were busy preparing for the “big day” (Christmas). Children were splattered in light mud from the painting they were doing. Houses were being meticulously painted with different colors of mud to make them look fresh and newly decorated. We met scores of people, all happy to see us, and all full of questions about the rest of Ivan’s family in Kampala and elsewhere.

Ivan had the conviction some time back that he needed to use his salary this month to buy shoes for the village. He managed to bring about 50 pairs of sandals, which he distributed to people, making them very happy.

“You never come to the village empty-handed, and you never leave the village empty-handed,” he told me. Sure enough, they sent us home with a chicken (Harriet) to bring all the way back to Kampala.

We stayed in Pamwodhu for two nights before returning to Kampala. They showed me how to peel the fermented sour cassava to prepare it for drying and then grinding to make flour. They showed me what sorghum, millet, and cassava look like when they grow. And I learned more about life and culture in the village.

We had many people to visit. There was family members scattered all over the area. Ivan didn’t know how most were related to him. He just knew they were relatives. Each day, we were overfed the whole day by people appropriately taking care of their visitors by slaughtering chickens and making the cassava flour bread (like ugali or kalo with a different taste to it). I even got to try heart fruit, a green spiky plant that tastes like pina colada yogurt on the inside.

Our second day we walked to Ivan’s father’s village, named Awora, over an hour away. Awora was another town, nestled against a hill, with a clustering of another series of huts. Ivan’s great-uncle was there to meet us and show us around. He was an old mzee, over 70, with grey hair, and very good English. The family cemetery was just next to the house, full of cemented graves with the names and years of all the inhabitants there. It’s a place full of stories and memories.

“People like to keep their dead close to them,” Ivan said. “Here there are the living dead and you have to watch over them and take care of them because you never know what they might do.”

Ivan’s uncle, a young, eloquent school teacher, talked with us and told stories with us all day, overfeeding us as a good host does. For the first time, Ivan got to learn more about his family history and have some of his questions answered. Most important of all, he saw a picture of his father. He had never seen a good, close-up picture from his father and was overjoyed to see a full portrait.

“Now I know what my father looks like and he looks like me,” he said as we walked back to Pamwodhu.

Ivan’s father had been a wealthy man, employed by the ministry of education, and was the first man to bring a car into the village. Yet he fell sick and died suddenly at the age of 39. When he died, nothing was left for his families and Ivan’s family fell into poverty. Ivan was only 5 years old at the time and his family really struggled. There were many nights with no food and many months of being sent away from home for school fees. By God’s grace, Ivan ended up being chosen by Compassion to be sponsored to go to school. He’s now in his second year of university.

“I know that God works all things out for good. If my dad hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have been in Compassion and that is where I got saved, but I still wonder where I would be now.”

The long walk back to Pamwodhu brought us past other villages. Walking takes forever because we have to stop and greet people so often. There are relatives everywhere and all have to be greeted. There were Muslim villages and Catholic villages, the only two religions around really, and they are a bit suspicious and closed to other religions coming in.

A group of children saw us pass and ran out in shock, yelling in Alur, “Hey come and see! What kind of person is that?” and they followed us at a long distance, half in terror and half in curiosity of this strange being walking through their village.

We finally returned to the village at dusk. The chorus of the village night bathed the huts with crickets and other night sounds. Since the only light is made by the moon, stars, candles and fires, all turned in early. Another chicken died for us that day. We were brought half a chicken along with the cassava bread and some eggs. A young girl brought us a basin of water to wash our hands, since those are our only utensils. Our cooks never ate with us, that’s impolite. The cooks always ate in the kitchen, leaving the guests to feast on their creation.

Visitors kept coming in and out. The people in the village were happy I would eat their food, walk and use public transport, greet people and stay in houses like they stay in. They were used to foreigners coming and staying at the mission house, traveling the roads in private cars, and living differently than them. It was a blessing to get to experience their lives and live as they do for a few days. I’m not ready to pack up and move into my own grass hut and grow my own food, but I enjoy visiting and seeing how life is lived there.

We came home late Wednesday night, in time to prepare for Christmas in Kampala, and very thankful for the days we had in the village.

Christmas in a Nutshell

2009-12-27T18:45:00.000+03:00

This week began with Sarah, our administrator, getting married. She's been preparing for the past year and somehow balancing working more than full time with the ministry, being a full-time student, and planning a wedding all at the same time. She finished her finals and the next day got married. It was a lovely wedding and we all enjoyed very much.

Following the wedding, Ivan and I went to the north western corner of Uganda, near the border with the DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo), to visit the villages where his family comes from. We were blessed to get to stay in thatched huts in the village, eat their traditional food, and meet many family members.

We came back to Kampala in time for Christmas. Ivan and I spent Christmas with his family in Kampala. His mom cooked an amazing feast and we spent the day at church and with the family. We even had a Christmas tree, but no sign of Santa...

In the in between days, I've been working on my teaching curriculum for my cultural anthropology class coming up and trying to catch up on some work I have put off from all the activities.

Right now our house is full of high school students who have been pouring in from the village. Our sponsored children are coming to camp with us tomorrow and so we are all preparing. If I am quiet for this week, that's why.

So in a nutshell, that's what's been going on around here this week.

I have written an update about our time in the village. It can be found at http://sautiyawatu.blogspot.com

To see pictures from Christmas an from the village trip go to:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=134664&id=664174054&l=7d9f38eb1f

To see pictures from Sarah's wedding go to:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=134670&id=664174054&l=82dc3bc432

Please pray for God to be with us and our kids as we go to camp, and to really impact the lives of the students there. Pray for us to have the energy and love needed to be there. And pray for us as we prepare to reopen our offices next week!