Closing sentence in an essay: "If we don't pray according to the needs of the heart, we repress our deepest longings. Our prayers may not be rational, and we may be quite aware of that, but if we repress our needs, then those unsaid prayers will fester." - Madeleine L'Engle in Glimpses of Grace
Opening sentence in an essay: "An agnostic is somebody who doesn't know for sure whether there really is a God. That is some people all of the time and all people some of the time." Frederick Buechner in Beyond Words
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Worship...
I had a chance to worship Friday night. Sadly those occurrences have become less frequent.
Weekly I meet with some friends and coworkers. We gather together in one of our houses to worship together. For some reason those events stopped being worship for me. I don't know what changed. I know our numbers have grown. I know the time has become more structured.
Perhaps it is the growth. Perhaps it is the lack of fluidity. Perhaps it is the separation of children from the grown ups. I'm not a fan of that part. A couple of years ago I read a book that began to change my mind about the participation of children in worship.
Now I'm still too western, so misbehaving children distract and frustrate me at times. But if I remain focused on the love of the master I can recognize that even he called the little children to him. We work so hard at keeping our children quiet and behaved when we worship. We tell them "come as you are" but we show them "you better come like I say you should."
Friday I was given the responsibility of hanging out with the two children that were with us. One was three the other was five. They are precious and sometimes wild. They love to laugh and play. I wasn't given much prep time considering I got their lesson as I walked up the stairs with them. Afterwards I was happy for the lack of preparation. We were able to play. Now we didn't get out toys and go crazy. We spent an hour or so playing with the master.
We laughed and tickled and wrestled a bit. Then Jackson found a piano keyboard under a shelf and he wanted to play with it. Now western me surfaced and I started to say, "No this isnt play time." Then I remembered to let the children come as they are. Jackson banged on the keyboard. Hannah sang on the attached microphone. They picked songs from Jesus Loves Me to Open the Eyes of my Heart. Together we sang and laughed and worshiped.
I miss worship. It was such a beautiful night.
Weekly I meet with some friends and coworkers. We gather together in one of our houses to worship together. For some reason those events stopped being worship for me. I don't know what changed. I know our numbers have grown. I know the time has become more structured.
Perhaps it is the growth. Perhaps it is the lack of fluidity. Perhaps it is the separation of children from the grown ups. I'm not a fan of that part. A couple of years ago I read a book that began to change my mind about the participation of children in worship.
Now I'm still too western, so misbehaving children distract and frustrate me at times. But if I remain focused on the love of the master I can recognize that even he called the little children to him. We work so hard at keeping our children quiet and behaved when we worship. We tell them "come as you are" but we show them "you better come like I say you should."
Friday I was given the responsibility of hanging out with the two children that were with us. One was three the other was five. They are precious and sometimes wild. They love to laugh and play. I wasn't given much prep time considering I got their lesson as I walked up the stairs with them. Afterwards I was happy for the lack of preparation. We were able to play. Now we didn't get out toys and go crazy. We spent an hour or so playing with the master.
We laughed and tickled and wrestled a bit. Then Jackson found a piano keyboard under a shelf and he wanted to play with it. Now western me surfaced and I started to say, "No this isnt play time." Then I remembered to let the children come as they are. Jackson banged on the keyboard. Hannah sang on the attached microphone. They picked songs from Jesus Loves Me to Open the Eyes of my Heart. Together we sang and laughed and worshiped.
I miss worship. It was such a beautiful night.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Happy New Year...
Yesterday afternoon I went to play basketball for a couple hours. I came home to find a chicken in my yard. I wasn't sure what was going on. I asked my guard, "Whose chicken is this?" "It is my brothers," he responded in a manner like I should have assumed the answer before asking the question.
It is New Years here. 1998 began today. I don't know the story behind why it is still 1998. I only know Y2K is fast approaching and yesterday and today are cause for great celebration. Even poor families will dish out the money to buy a chicken or a goat or an ox to eat.
It is four in the afternoon. I have had three meals already. None of them were dinner. Tradition here is that you celebrate the New Year by inviting friends and family to join you for a meal. When a white person becomes part of the tradition it means they invite you for a meal and likely won't eat with you.
The problem with being a white guy with national friends is that you get more invites than you can accommodate. I turned down two offers for lunch and accepted two.
The first lunch started at about 10:30. We ate a ton. They refuse to ever let you stop eating. "Eat, eat!" they say. And eat I did. I ate so much at the first lunch I was stuffed. Then I headed to the second.
The second was in the home of my house worker. This was the first time I had been invited to her new home. It has two rooms. You enter into what they call a salon; we would likely call it a living room. Just behind that room is a multipurpose bedroom/kitchen.
Two of her four children were there, along with a son-in-law and a two week old grandbaby. It was great to be in her home with her family. She is a wonderful, loving lady. Her family is also. They are devout Orthodox. They very much love the God of their understanding. My struggle is that that God speaks very little of grace or love.
As the new begins here I hope this will be a time of newness in all of life. She has a new year, a new house, a new grandbaby, and my prayer is she will gain a new perspective of the God who died to show his love for her.
It is New Years here. 1998 began today. I don't know the story behind why it is still 1998. I only know Y2K is fast approaching and yesterday and today are cause for great celebration. Even poor families will dish out the money to buy a chicken or a goat or an ox to eat.
It is four in the afternoon. I have had three meals already. None of them were dinner. Tradition here is that you celebrate the New Year by inviting friends and family to join you for a meal. When a white person becomes part of the tradition it means they invite you for a meal and likely won't eat with you.
The problem with being a white guy with national friends is that you get more invites than you can accommodate. I turned down two offers for lunch and accepted two.
The first lunch started at about 10:30. We ate a ton. They refuse to ever let you stop eating. "Eat, eat!" they say. And eat I did. I ate so much at the first lunch I was stuffed. Then I headed to the second.
The second was in the home of my house worker. This was the first time I had been invited to her new home. It has two rooms. You enter into what they call a salon; we would likely call it a living room. Just behind that room is a multipurpose bedroom/kitchen.
Two of her four children were there, along with a son-in-law and a two week old grandbaby. It was great to be in her home with her family. She is a wonderful, loving lady. Her family is also. They are devout Orthodox. They very much love the God of their understanding. My struggle is that that God speaks very little of grace or love.
As the new begins here I hope this will be a time of newness in all of life. She has a new year, a new house, a new grandbaby, and my prayer is she will gain a new perspective of the God who died to show his love for her.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Crooked Umbrella...
[Listening to: Africa - Toto - Billboard Top Hits - 1983 (4:22)]
What a day. It feels like it began weeks ago. Throughout a day I will have something happen and want to write about it. Today it happened more times than I can count or write about. The morning started with a meeting with an old friend I haven't seen in months. We had a macchiato and a donut together at a café.
Then he went with me to the post office. It is a mile or two from the house and takes some walking and one minibus (see previous posts for explanation). Today I couldn't get a minibus. I was also struck by an older couple there waiting too. The woman wore a white blanket of sorts which is customary. Her head was covered and she was in her 50s or 60s. She was trying hard to get a taxi.
The man with her had something wrong with his eyes. My friend found out he had just had surgery. He walked with a cane and clearly felt helpless. As she fought for a taxi see he sat on a stool beside the road.
After many failures my heart was broken for her. We waited probably 30 minutes with them. I gave up on a taxi, but had to get them on one before I would leave. I said a brief prayer silently asking for a contract taxi. Finally one came along.
I flagged them down and waved the lady and my friend over. "Get a good price for her," I told my friend. He did and she got in. We helped the man into the back seat which was a struggle. I handed the driver the money. The woman would have waited all day before paying the extra to ride in a contract taxi. She thanked me repeatedly and kissed my hand. I wished her a happy new year and muttered a few things about God blessing her.
As we left me friend said, "That was a good think you did for her." I couldn't stand to see them continue to fight for a seat with no help. I believe firmly the truth is seen in our lives. We don't always need to speak words to show the master. Today that couple saw the love of the master in a white man who paid barely over a dollar for a taxi ride. It felt good.
It started raining before getting home. We had a bunch of people coming to our house tonight so we needed to make a grocery run. We waited on a break in the rain. It slowed. We went to the grocery by minibus. The first store didn't have tomato sauce. I stopped at a second store to get some for spaghetti sauce our worker was making.
On the way out I had a boo boo. I slipped on the wet stairs. PARALLEL! My feet were the same level as my head. I caught the rail with my left hand to no avail. The jars of sauce shattered in the plastic bag in my right hand. It hurt so badly. My umbrella has a big bend in the middle.
At places like this they have a guard that helps watch cars and direct them in and out of the lot. He rushed to my side. He grabbed my arm and started pulling. Now the average guard at a place like this grew up with Moses. Not really but he was no young man. And he was about 1/3 the size of me. After much pleading I convinced him to wait. I needed to get my bearings before coming back up. I knew my elbow was sore from receiving the brunt of the fall, but I decided I was okay. After a few seconds I rose.
I turned to find two more men there to check on me. One tried to convince me I should sit and rest a while. I politely refused. The whole store stared. I was embarrassed. I couldn't even tell what they were saying about the fat white guy who fell down the stairs.
Humbly I walked back in the store and bought the last remaining jar of sauce. I used the rail the next time out. I got on a taxi and went home. I laughed with my roommates at my umbrella and my fall. Life goes on!
Later in the afternoon we were able to play with some children on the street in front of our house. It was beautiful to see them laugh as we played with a football and Frisbee. They are terrible at both, but they sure enjoyed it.
Today was the kind of day that ends in exhaustion. But days like this also end with a big smile. Today was a good day!
Oh yeah! And happy birthday Mom!
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Dentists and Spiders...
I went to see a dentist today. I wasn't going to get my teeth looked at. I'll be honest and tell you I was a bit terrified of the whole African dentist thing. I was pleasantly surprised.
I was going to meet the dentist because a dentist from the States is coming here next week. The visiting dentist will present an oral hygiene presentation at the resource center. The dentist's office is just above our center. We wanted to extend an invitation to the doctor and his helpers.
Once I climbed the stairs and finally found the office I came into a reception area where a woman in glasses sat behind a desk. All that was on the desk with her was a phone. I greeted her in her language and she asked what I needed. I asked if she spoke English. She said, in her language, "What do you want?" I explained in English. She said, "Have a seat."
I moved to a wall and stood to wait. I was almost forced to sit down. Their hospitality is so great. I sat in a room and waited with 9 nationals. All of them were enthralled. They weren't staring at me which happens quite often. Instead they were lost in the television that hung in the corner just behind me. I didn't have much of a view but I wanted to see what they were all watching.
I heard English but didn't recognize anything. Finally I saw a man running from a house full of spiders and realized it must be Arachnophobia. They were loving it. They love American movies. It has both pros and cons.
The plus is that it helps them learn language. This is one reason we try to stock movies at the resource center (we need more by the way). A downfall is they start to imitate us. They start to dress like us. They start to talk like us. These include all the negatives: to much flesh showing, lots of cussing, etc.
One little girl in the office must have been eight or ten. She was there with her mom and watched the movie intently. I could see her face scrunch as she got scared. I saw her bury her head in her mom's chest once, only to peek through her fingers covering her eyes. She was precious.
Three braided pigtails stuck out of her head sort of like Pippy Longstocking. She wore a white shirt and skirt that clearly went together based on the bright yellow sunflowers that decorated both of them. She wore white tights with an embroidered pattern and white cowboy boots that came just above her ankles.
They caught me watching her. We smiled at each other. They returned to the movie. I kept watching them. People here are so fascinating.
Apparently the receptionists understood me, because I was called to come and speak to a young lady in a black sweater wearing one rubber glove. I asked if she was the dentist and she told me he was gone today. Come to find out he is only there on Tuesday and Thursday; but today was Thursday. He had another program today. She told me to come back next week. I shared the details of the program and invited them all.
This could be a great chance for us to build a relationship. Approach the throne on their behalf.
I was going to meet the dentist because a dentist from the States is coming here next week. The visiting dentist will present an oral hygiene presentation at the resource center. The dentist's office is just above our center. We wanted to extend an invitation to the doctor and his helpers.
Once I climbed the stairs and finally found the office I came into a reception area where a woman in glasses sat behind a desk. All that was on the desk with her was a phone. I greeted her in her language and she asked what I needed. I asked if she spoke English. She said, in her language, "What do you want?" I explained in English. She said, "Have a seat."
I moved to a wall and stood to wait. I was almost forced to sit down. Their hospitality is so great. I sat in a room and waited with 9 nationals. All of them were enthralled. They weren't staring at me which happens quite often. Instead they were lost in the television that hung in the corner just behind me. I didn't have much of a view but I wanted to see what they were all watching.
I heard English but didn't recognize anything. Finally I saw a man running from a house full of spiders and realized it must be Arachnophobia. They were loving it. They love American movies. It has both pros and cons.
The plus is that it helps them learn language. This is one reason we try to stock movies at the resource center (we need more by the way). A downfall is they start to imitate us. They start to dress like us. They start to talk like us. These include all the negatives: to much flesh showing, lots of cussing, etc.
One little girl in the office must have been eight or ten. She was there with her mom and watched the movie intently. I could see her face scrunch as she got scared. I saw her bury her head in her mom's chest once, only to peek through her fingers covering her eyes. She was precious.
Three braided pigtails stuck out of her head sort of like Pippy Longstocking. She wore a white shirt and skirt that clearly went together based on the bright yellow sunflowers that decorated both of them. She wore white tights with an embroidered pattern and white cowboy boots that came just above her ankles.
They caught me watching her. We smiled at each other. They returned to the movie. I kept watching them. People here are so fascinating.
Apparently the receptionists understood me, because I was called to come and speak to a young lady in a black sweater wearing one rubber glove. I asked if she was the dentist and she told me he was gone today. Come to find out he is only there on Tuesday and Thursday; but today was Thursday. He had another program today. She told me to come back next week. I shared the details of the program and invited them all.
This could be a great chance for us to build a relationship. Approach the throne on their behalf.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Driving Miss Daisy...On Speed...
Driving here is a bit crazy. They don't tend to follow western rules or procedure. Many have visited and asked if the lines on the road were merely suggestions. I'm not sure they have that much authority. The typical driver does the majority of learning on a dirt patch with some wooden posts sticking out of the ground. So pavement and lines are a bit of a stretch.
Personally I think it is a blast driving. Reminds me of a video game. Not to mention I drive pretty similar in the states anyway. Ask my parents or Jason.
Two intersections are fairly well known. One is named after the gigantic grain bins that sit in one corner of the intersection. It has numerous nicknames: "malfunction junction," "mass chaos," "confusion corner." Contrary to initial thoughts when viewing the thoroughfare it is actually only a four way intersection. But each lane has three to six lanes of traffic. There are no lights or signs and traffic police only make a bigger mess.
The other is kind of town center. It is a six way. Each road has 4+ lanes going each way. The meeting point of the six has about 8 lanes proceeding each way. This place serves as a taxi stop, a meeting place, a training facility for athletes, a concert venue, and many other things. There are actually stop-lights here that are fairly well followed and this is the only place in town you can turn right on red.
Today as we walked through the square I noticed something odd. A man was sprawled out face down in between the opposing lanes of traffic. I asked my friend if he was okay at which he said, "Of course, he is sleeping." He wasn't a bit shocked and I don't know why I was. It isn't unusual to see people sleeping in strange places. But perhaps the problem was this one looked dead. Made me a bit nervous. I rarely get shocked here anymore; it was nice. I hope the man really was just sleeping though.
Personally I think it is a blast driving. Reminds me of a video game. Not to mention I drive pretty similar in the states anyway. Ask my parents or Jason.
Two intersections are fairly well known. One is named after the gigantic grain bins that sit in one corner of the intersection. It has numerous nicknames: "malfunction junction," "mass chaos," "confusion corner." Contrary to initial thoughts when viewing the thoroughfare it is actually only a four way intersection. But each lane has three to six lanes of traffic. There are no lights or signs and traffic police only make a bigger mess.
The other is kind of town center. It is a six way. Each road has 4+ lanes going each way. The meeting point of the six has about 8 lanes proceeding each way. This place serves as a taxi stop, a meeting place, a training facility for athletes, a concert venue, and many other things. There are actually stop-lights here that are fairly well followed and this is the only place in town you can turn right on red.
Today as we walked through the square I noticed something odd. A man was sprawled out face down in between the opposing lanes of traffic. I asked my friend if he was okay at which he said, "Of course, he is sleeping." He wasn't a bit shocked and I don't know why I was. It isn't unusual to see people sleeping in strange places. But perhaps the problem was this one looked dead. Made me a bit nervous. I rarely get shocked here anymore; it was nice. I hope the man really was just sleeping though.
Taking Over the World...
Today I went to one of those big sales bazaars like they have in the states. You know the kind you pay five dollars to get into so that you can see what is for sale. It is like a flea market without the dirt, and junk.
Much of the stuff was the same I can find on the street here. But some of it was from other countries. They had crafts from Egypt and food from there too. A friend bought a shirt from Pakistan. I bought a couple of those energy saving really bright lights. They have them elsewhere here, but I wasn't elsewhere.
The funniest thing I saw was in a small stall of Christian books. Many of them where in the national language, but a few were in English. They had a couple books from Francine Rivers. They had a couple from Bruce Wilkinson. They even had a couple copies of The Message. However my favorite of their supply I don't even know the name of. I didn't focus as much on the title as I did the sticker in the top right corner.
It had a barcode on it and all the words were in English. As I got closer I saw it costs 6.95 but there was a US dollar sign on it. A tad closer and I saw the original seller...Wal-Mart. I laughed as I left; they had no clue what I thought was so funny. How do you explain Wal-Mart to third world residents?
Much of the stuff was the same I can find on the street here. But some of it was from other countries. They had crafts from Egypt and food from there too. A friend bought a shirt from Pakistan. I bought a couple of those energy saving really bright lights. They have them elsewhere here, but I wasn't elsewhere.
The funniest thing I saw was in a small stall of Christian books. Many of them where in the national language, but a few were in English. They had a couple books from Francine Rivers. They had a couple from Bruce Wilkinson. They even had a couple copies of The Message. However my favorite of their supply I don't even know the name of. I didn't focus as much on the title as I did the sticker in the top right corner.
It had a barcode on it and all the words were in English. As I got closer I saw it costs 6.95 but there was a US dollar sign on it. A tad closer and I saw the original seller...Wal-Mart. I laughed as I left; they had no clue what I thought was so funny. How do you explain Wal-Mart to third world residents?
Monday, September 05, 2005
Trash or Toy...
The creativity of people who have nothing amazes me. My grandfather tells a story of when he was a child. He says that his family was so poor they had to come up with homemade toys. If you know Dub you probably know he tells the story a bit differently but I'm not sure it is appropriate for all readers. But if you can't sleep without knowing ask him about his pants' pockets. It reminds me of an old Chuck Berry song my mom introduced me to.
Today I was walking down the street with a national friend of mine. I noticed a young boy who was clearly a beggar. But at this moment he wasn't begging; he wasn't paying attention to passersby; he was playing.
Beggars are a bit noticeable. They tend to be dressed in brown or green. It is usually faded a shade or 10 shades but it is still the noticeable brown or green. Often their faces are dirty and their haircuts are a bit unordinary. Usually the little boys have a shaved head with a little tuft at the hairline. They tell me that this has two purposes. The shaving is to prevent lice or other things that come from lack of cleanliness.
The tuft is about a continuing superstition. They believe evil spirits attack things that are nice and pretty. Because of this in some places they spit on babies - to make them less appealing. The tuft of hair is so that the angels can rescue them when they get attacked. They believe the angel swoops down and grabs them by their hair to remove them from danger.
So back to today's little boy. He was having a blast. He was sitting on his butt with his legs spread out in front of him. All of his focus was on his toy. It wasn't a toy I would have been satisfied with as a child. I have to admit I was a bit spoiled.
The little boy who captured my attention had his attention on a Coke cap. We drink from glass bottles here. The tops are sometimes thrown in trash cans and sometimes on the street. Apparently this one had made it to the street. And what you and I would consider trash was a treasure to this boy. Over and over again he would toss it about a foot in the air and catch it again. He threw it and caught it and threw it and caught it as long as I could see him.
I was impressed by his ingenuity. I was blessed by his joy in spite of poverty. I was touched by the smile on his face as he played with a piece of metal which to him meant as much as a gold coin would have. What a wonderful world!
Today I was walking down the street with a national friend of mine. I noticed a young boy who was clearly a beggar. But at this moment he wasn't begging; he wasn't paying attention to passersby; he was playing.
Beggars are a bit noticeable. They tend to be dressed in brown or green. It is usually faded a shade or 10 shades but it is still the noticeable brown or green. Often their faces are dirty and their haircuts are a bit unordinary. Usually the little boys have a shaved head with a little tuft at the hairline. They tell me that this has two purposes. The shaving is to prevent lice or other things that come from lack of cleanliness.
The tuft is about a continuing superstition. They believe evil spirits attack things that are nice and pretty. Because of this in some places they spit on babies - to make them less appealing. The tuft of hair is so that the angels can rescue them when they get attacked. They believe the angel swoops down and grabs them by their hair to remove them from danger.
So back to today's little boy. He was having a blast. He was sitting on his butt with his legs spread out in front of him. All of his focus was on his toy. It wasn't a toy I would have been satisfied with as a child. I have to admit I was a bit spoiled.
The little boy who captured my attention had his attention on a Coke cap. We drink from glass bottles here. The tops are sometimes thrown in trash cans and sometimes on the street. Apparently this one had made it to the street. And what you and I would consider trash was a treasure to this boy. Over and over again he would toss it about a foot in the air and catch it again. He threw it and caught it and threw it and caught it as long as I could see him.
I was impressed by his ingenuity. I was blessed by his joy in spite of poverty. I was touched by the smile on his face as he played with a piece of metal which to him meant as much as a gold coin would have. What a wonderful world!
Guard Duty...
I had to do something Thursday. It is one of the hardest things I've done since living in this country. I had to release a guard. The way houses are set up here is that everything is inside its own compound. It makes no difference whether you are in the city or the countryside each house or sometimes a families' grouping of houses is inside its own gate.
My gate is green. Around the top of the fence is razor wire. In the states we would assume someone really rich lives in my house, or else it is a small prison. Each house always has a person standing guard. We have three. They switch off so that one of them is always here.
Very little major crime happens in this country. However there is some theft. In the local logic, if you have something that you don't protect you must not care if someone takes it. At our learning center the phone had no lock on it. One month someone made repeated calls to Austria. We must not have minded if they made calls or we would have locked the dial pad...it is now locked. The same logic applies to a car or my house. If I don't have a guard I must not care if someone breaks in. But I do care so I have guards.
Thursday I had to release one. He had only been here a couple months. He was a great guy, but he couldn't make the cut. For a while I thought he was lazy or a bit dumb. Over time I began to think maybe he couldn't hear. We would knock on the gate and he would never come answer. One day I came out the front door and he wasnt more than fifteen feet away. As I drew within five I said hello; he didn't respond. Finally when I slammed the car door I got his attention.
The problems continued and were compounded by a lie he told the guards and his inability to help our house worker. Eventually we decidedwe would have to let him go. I have limited language so I started the conversation and then had an advisor finish it. I thought the guy was gonna cry; I thought I was gonna cry.
It is tough to live in a place of such poverty. Standing before me was a young guy who wanted a job. He was a good guy, but he couldn't protect the house. I released him from his work and gave him a gift as new years is approaching. I asked him to call me sometime and we would get tea or coffee. I'm not sure I'll ever hear from him. I think I crushed him. I crushed me. I'm still not sure what the right thing to do was.
My gate is green. Around the top of the fence is razor wire. In the states we would assume someone really rich lives in my house, or else it is a small prison. Each house always has a person standing guard. We have three. They switch off so that one of them is always here.
Very little major crime happens in this country. However there is some theft. In the local logic, if you have something that you don't protect you must not care if someone takes it. At our learning center the phone had no lock on it. One month someone made repeated calls to Austria. We must not have minded if they made calls or we would have locked the dial pad...it is now locked. The same logic applies to a car or my house. If I don't have a guard I must not care if someone breaks in. But I do care so I have guards.
Thursday I had to release one. He had only been here a couple months. He was a great guy, but he couldn't make the cut. For a while I thought he was lazy or a bit dumb. Over time I began to think maybe he couldn't hear. We would knock on the gate and he would never come answer. One day I came out the front door and he wasnt more than fifteen feet away. As I drew within five I said hello; he didn't respond. Finally when I slammed the car door I got his attention.
The problems continued and were compounded by a lie he told the guards and his inability to help our house worker. Eventually we decidedwe would have to let him go. I have limited language so I started the conversation and then had an advisor finish it. I thought the guy was gonna cry; I thought I was gonna cry.
It is tough to live in a place of such poverty. Standing before me was a young guy who wanted a job. He was a good guy, but he couldn't protect the house. I released him from his work and gave him a gift as new years is approaching. I asked him to call me sometime and we would get tea or coffee. I'm not sure I'll ever hear from him. I think I crushed him. I crushed me. I'm still not sure what the right thing to do was.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Rooney...
Much of the summer I drove a car. Life is typically much easier here in a personal car. But something is missing. Months ago I wrote about the modes of transport here and shared the pros and cons of driving or riding or walking. I won't bore you with that again. But I do want to share a reality of driving.
I become more likely to miss the beauty and joy of the society when I drive. Even today I was walking through the streets people would call out to me. "Rooney" they would yell. I always know they are speaking to me. It isn't my name and it isn't a new nickname I've developed; well I guess it sort of is.
The people here tend to think I look like this guy. His name is Wayne Rooney and he is a football (soccer) player for Manchester United. Typically one thing can always be known here. If a national likes Manchester he/she doesn't like Arsenal and vice versa. Therefore I often ask who they like and pick the opposite. It is a fun way to play with them.
It used to drive me crazy to hear them yell this name as I walked by. But I've grown to love it. I've learned that the people here have strange ways of saying hello. They yell "you" or "foreigner" or to me "Rooney." The first two are always in their language. It can be frustrating and even seem rude. The truth is they just want your attention. They want to see your face and your smile. Some want to see your pocket book, but most are satisfied with the smile or a handshake.
I swear these are the most beautiful people on the face of the earth. I'm glad to be walking the streets more.
I become more likely to miss the beauty and joy of the society when I drive. Even today I was walking through the streets people would call out to me. "Rooney" they would yell. I always know they are speaking to me. It isn't my name and it isn't a new nickname I've developed; well I guess it sort of is.
The people here tend to think I look like this guy. His name is Wayne Rooney and he is a football (soccer) player for Manchester United. Typically one thing can always be known here. If a national likes Manchester he/she doesn't like Arsenal and vice versa. Therefore I often ask who they like and pick the opposite. It is a fun way to play with them.
It used to drive me crazy to hear them yell this name as I walked by. But I've grown to love it. I've learned that the people here have strange ways of saying hello. They yell "you" or "foreigner" or to me "Rooney." The first two are always in their language. It can be frustrating and even seem rude. The truth is they just want your attention. They want to see your face and your smile. Some want to see your pocket book, but most are satisfied with the smile or a handshake.
I swear these are the most beautiful people on the face of the earth. I'm glad to be walking the streets more.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Material...
I don't consider myself much of a writer. I remember writing papers in school and having my little sister proofread them for me because she was so much better at it. I remember writing a paper in grad school that a friend read and said I wrote like I talked (never figured out if that was good or bad).
In spite of this reality, I am in the midst of trying to write something. For some time in the States there has been a problem in churches. We have functioned as if a decision to follow the master is the finish line. We allow people to come to that point and then we ask them to barefoot the rest of faith. This runs a very dangerous risk of becoming a fire insurance style, stay out of hell, salvation.
It seems to me that the book talks of more of an on going relationship. Walking in faith is a journey with the God. A decision to join the journey should be the starting line, not the finish line. We need to work harder at raising up those who are joining our walk.
With this in mind we are trying to prepare a resource to help raise up healthy believers here. I am taking the lead on compiling/writing this material. Tons of stuff currently exists. However the majority of those things are written for western minds. And while the call is the same for followers all over the world the means of getting there differs depending on culture.
As we try to prepare material several issues arise. Join us in asking for wisdom as we work through these things. Also realize these are beginning thoughts. I am still learning what the culture looks like. I am constantly asking for wisdom as we try and reach these people.
Well this is getting long and I am at the end of my current thoughts on the issue. Please join me in asking for wisdom as we move through this process.
In spite of this reality, I am in the midst of trying to write something. For some time in the States there has been a problem in churches. We have functioned as if a decision to follow the master is the finish line. We allow people to come to that point and then we ask them to barefoot the rest of faith. This runs a very dangerous risk of becoming a fire insurance style, stay out of hell, salvation.
It seems to me that the book talks of more of an on going relationship. Walking in faith is a journey with the God. A decision to join the journey should be the starting line, not the finish line. We need to work harder at raising up those who are joining our walk.
With this in mind we are trying to prepare a resource to help raise up healthy believers here. I am taking the lead on compiling/writing this material. Tons of stuff currently exists. However the majority of those things are written for western minds. And while the call is the same for followers all over the world the means of getting there differs depending on culture.
As we try to prepare material several issues arise. Join us in asking for wisdom as we work through these things. Also realize these are beginning thoughts. I am still learning what the culture looks like. I am constantly asking for wisdom as we try and reach these people.
- Orality v. Literately - The illiteracy rate in this country is as high as 70%. That is a lot of people that can't read or write their own language much less English (which the majority of material is written in). Even if we write something in English and then translate it, we would have to teach many of the people here to read before they could begin growing in faith. Even those that can read learn in an oral manner. They don't learn through reading and writing as well as through hearing and speaking. Therefore teaching methods here need to involve stories and sharing aloud truths. They will then repeat and memorize as they learn. A desire of mine as we write material is that we write it for us the American literate mind. As we reproduce it with others we will do so orally. They will never have the printed work in hand.
- Indigenous v. Imported - For something to be indigenous it means that it is of the culture. Many of the bodies here don't carry that trait. They look more like my culture than theirs. We do believe that we have some thoughts, and goals, and principles that are valuable to the believers here. However we want them leading their own people because they understand the culture more than I ever can. This is another reason to dodge printed material. This way we can give them nuggets and they get to take those and do with them as they have been led, not so much by us as the Spirit.
- Black v. White - This is less of a color issue than a cultural issue. The foreigners have great respect here. Last week I sat in a meeting with the heads of a college that wants to partner with our ERC. This week they called and invited us to come to their first graduation as the special guests. They want to put a robe on us and have us sit up front. We have no partnership yet; they don't even know us; however we are white. The desire is that those being raised in the faith will be raised up by national believers. Several issues come into play here. First, we don't have enough national believing partners to lead those making decisions. Second, is in line with the issue mentioned above. Many of the believers here have been taught a way that goes against culture. Now I won't deny that our faith is countercultural. It goes against the norm; it bucks the system. At the same time, it is culture sensitive. Shepherd stories were told because J. was teaching shepherds. Those challenged to be "fishers of men" weren't the tax collectors, they were fisherman. The goal was to communicate the truth in a way that fit with their current worldview, but at the same time stretched their world to new places. Third, people tend to place great respect in those that walked the journey with them. We want that to be a black face, not a white one. The day will come we will leave. We aren't here forever, we are here to accomplish the task and then let it run wild, fired only by the passion of nationals and the wisdom of the Spirit. We also don't want to see a repeat of the issues in the body at Corinth. It seems Paul was dealing with the believers fighting over who had more worth because of who led them on the way. Paul says who cares, what is important isn't the person but God.
- Lifestyle v. Program - As we read of the master leading his followers we don't see a weekly meeting to digest ideas. We don't see occasional teaching sessions and the rest of the time it is do as you will. He walked beside his followers. He journeyed with them. He laughed with them, cried with them, and grew with them. That is the goal of discipleship. It is the idea of one farther down the path walking with one who just began the journey. A major issue is how to turn printed material to oral material that is about living life together not teaching. The lack of partners adds to this, because relationships currently will have to be manipulated rather than natural.
Well this is getting long and I am at the end of my current thoughts on the issue. Please join me in asking for wisdom as we move through this process.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Computer...
Well it is back in working order. I'm not pleased yet as I still have programs left to add but I am getting there. Gonna try and put a few new posts on in the next few days. Those checking in have dropped in my absence. Thanks for those of you that stick around.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Great When They Are Working...
It is sad but true. I live a life reliant on my laptop. It is my primary means of communication and I do the large majority of my work on it. I don't remember the last time I hand wrote a letter...I don't really type many of those either.
This weekend my hard drive crashed. Therefore my responses to your emails may be limited for a time and I will likely not be posting much here. I have access to computers to get must do work done, but not like I usually do.
Hope to be back up and running in a couple weeks.
This weekend my hard drive crashed. Therefore my responses to your emails may be limited for a time and I will likely not be posting much here. I have access to computers to get must do work done, but not like I usually do.
Hope to be back up and running in a couple weeks.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
"Sun" and Mary...
Yesterday I met a woman whose name means sun. She wore a blue dress the same material that scrubs in the state are made of. Her right eye had been blinded somehow. It was obvious by the discoloration.
When I walked into the room she was standing near a counter scooping out powdered milk. She was adding water and putting it inside bottles. As I watched her she brought several small children to a padded table and began to change diapers.
I walked up on her as she changed one. The diaper was a piece of cloth. After wrapping the cloth she took a piece of plastic and wrapped it around the kids legs and waist so as to tie it around the cloth. It held the diaper on. On top of the diaper was a wooly pair of pants to keep the child warm. After watching "Sun" and my friends hold and play and care for the babies one was offered to me.
I took hold of Mary. "Sun" told me her name and said she was about a month old. She was beautiful and tiny. The small pink hat on her head was way too big and continuously rotated down over her eyes. We watched one another for some time. Finally her eyes began to appear heavy. She drifted off to sleep. I held her for a few more minutes before placing her back in her crib.
The orphanage we were at is surrounded by kids cursed by AIDS. Some of the children, from infants to 17, have the disease or its precursor themselves. Others had lost parents because of AIDS. I've heard that as many as 12 to 13 million people here are HIV positive. The children were beautiful.
We left the infants and headed for a room with many children who were probably 4 to 6. They loved us. They would surround us and tug at our hands and/or clothes. A few were fascinated with my bit of facial growth. The would rub their soft tiny hands on my cheeks and chin and lips. They seemed to enjoy the feel of our warm skin. More than one placed my hands on their own neck. They were desperate for touch; desperate for love.
They were so beautiful, I'd love to adopt a few and bring them home with me.
I met an Irish woman named Bernie while I was there. Bernie talked about how she worked hard to remove herself from the fact that they had the disease. She didn't want to become too associated with them or the real affects of their illness. It made me think about the movie Patch Adams. Robin Williams' character seemed to think that associating with the disease was therapeutic to the patient.
I just wanted to find the best way to love them. How do you love children you know are dying? Is it possible to love them the same as other children? We are promised that they are just as loved by their creator. It is hard for me to belive that some people would write off these children as sin because they are cursed with such a terrible illness. I'd like to take them to this place. I'd like them to meet Mary and the others. I'd like them too look at their beautiful smiles, and bright eyes, and little green teeth. I'd like them to smile and laugh and cry with beautiful children. Then I would like to see them leave with the realization that no matter the illness, the future of this child, or the past that has cursed them they are loved.
When I walked into the room she was standing near a counter scooping out powdered milk. She was adding water and putting it inside bottles. As I watched her she brought several small children to a padded table and began to change diapers.
I walked up on her as she changed one. The diaper was a piece of cloth. After wrapping the cloth she took a piece of plastic and wrapped it around the kids legs and waist so as to tie it around the cloth. It held the diaper on. On top of the diaper was a wooly pair of pants to keep the child warm. After watching "Sun" and my friends hold and play and care for the babies one was offered to me.
I took hold of Mary. "Sun" told me her name and said she was about a month old. She was beautiful and tiny. The small pink hat on her head was way too big and continuously rotated down over her eyes. We watched one another for some time. Finally her eyes began to appear heavy. She drifted off to sleep. I held her for a few more minutes before placing her back in her crib.
The orphanage we were at is surrounded by kids cursed by AIDS. Some of the children, from infants to 17, have the disease or its precursor themselves. Others had lost parents because of AIDS. I've heard that as many as 12 to 13 million people here are HIV positive. The children were beautiful.
We left the infants and headed for a room with many children who were probably 4 to 6. They loved us. They would surround us and tug at our hands and/or clothes. A few were fascinated with my bit of facial growth. The would rub their soft tiny hands on my cheeks and chin and lips. They seemed to enjoy the feel of our warm skin. More than one placed my hands on their own neck. They were desperate for touch; desperate for love.
They were so beautiful, I'd love to adopt a few and bring them home with me.
I met an Irish woman named Bernie while I was there. Bernie talked about how she worked hard to remove herself from the fact that they had the disease. She didn't want to become too associated with them or the real affects of their illness. It made me think about the movie Patch Adams. Robin Williams' character seemed to think that associating with the disease was therapeutic to the patient.
I just wanted to find the best way to love them. How do you love children you know are dying? Is it possible to love them the same as other children? We are promised that they are just as loved by their creator. It is hard for me to belive that some people would write off these children as sin because they are cursed with such a terrible illness. I'd like to take them to this place. I'd like them to meet Mary and the others. I'd like them too look at their beautiful smiles, and bright eyes, and little green teeth. I'd like them to smile and laugh and cry with beautiful children. Then I would like to see them leave with the realization that no matter the illness, the future of this child, or the past that has cursed them they are loved.
Hiking...
I think I've kicked the sickness. I didn't however choose the wisest way to move out of it. Last Wednesday I left the city with a group headed to the mountains. We were going to hike for 2 ½ days. It kicked my butt.
We drove about 5 hours (2 on a dirt/rock road) to one of the most beautiful regions of the country. The first day we hiked several kilometers and I will admit I was dead. I began to get really cold and got a fever again. I took a nap and some Advil and finally kicked it by morning. However the next two days I spent on horse back instead of on foot. We rode about 9 miles the second day.
I didn't realize it but we were almost done with the second day of hiking. I hiked in this same area 2 years ago. That time I tried to ride a horse. The problem was that the "horse" was about the size of an overgrown dog. I gave up on him when he nearly fell down the hill with me on his back. This time the horses were bigger, but quite stubborn.
So as I was saying we were almost done with the day's hike. The horse in front of me decided to make its own trail through some bushes. Mine followed. Then my horse decided to run me into a thorn bush. I tried to dodge by sliding to the side a bit. The saddle went with me. All of the sudden the saddle was on the side of the horse instead of the top. If I continued to hold on I was going to end up under the horse.
Instead I fell off. I landed in a thorn bush. Which sure didn't feel good. The bigger problem came with my foot. I've seen enough westerns to know that a foot stuck in the stirrup is not a good thing. Mine was stuck. I tried to jerk it loose but no luck. Finally I was able to raise the other foot and pry mine out.
Then comes the guide. Wasn't doing much of a job was he. He was about 5'6" and 125 pounds soaking wet. Yet here he comes to get the fat kid out of a thorn bush. I yelled, "Wait, Wait, Stop!" Then I directed him to a place he could be of help as I worked my way out of the thorn bush.
Almost got thrown off another horse on day three, so needless to say, I'll be staying away from the horses here for a bit.
There are some pics of the trip to the right.
We drove about 5 hours (2 on a dirt/rock road) to one of the most beautiful regions of the country. The first day we hiked several kilometers and I will admit I was dead. I began to get really cold and got a fever again. I took a nap and some Advil and finally kicked it by morning. However the next two days I spent on horse back instead of on foot. We rode about 9 miles the second day.
I didn't realize it but we were almost done with the second day of hiking. I hiked in this same area 2 years ago. That time I tried to ride a horse. The problem was that the "horse" was about the size of an overgrown dog. I gave up on him when he nearly fell down the hill with me on his back. This time the horses were bigger, but quite stubborn.
So as I was saying we were almost done with the day's hike. The horse in front of me decided to make its own trail through some bushes. Mine followed. Then my horse decided to run me into a thorn bush. I tried to dodge by sliding to the side a bit. The saddle went with me. All of the sudden the saddle was on the side of the horse instead of the top. If I continued to hold on I was going to end up under the horse.
Instead I fell off. I landed in a thorn bush. Which sure didn't feel good. The bigger problem came with my foot. I've seen enough westerns to know that a foot stuck in the stirrup is not a good thing. Mine was stuck. I tried to jerk it loose but no luck. Finally I was able to raise the other foot and pry mine out.
Then comes the guide. Wasn't doing much of a job was he. He was about 5'6" and 125 pounds soaking wet. Yet here he comes to get the fat kid out of a thorn bush. I yelled, "Wait, Wait, Stop!" Then I directed him to a place he could be of help as I worked my way out of the thorn bush.
Almost got thrown off another horse on day three, so needless to say, I'll be staying away from the horses here for a bit.
There are some pics of the trip to the right.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Sickness...
I have been sick for over a week now. I leave the house rarely and am usually am exhausted upon returning. Monday I went to see the doctor. At that point the majority of my problem had to do with stomach cramping and the trots (this is Africa; couth is dead). They gave me a plastic test tube which had a small spoon of sorts on the inside. I wasn't real comfortable with the predicament, but I didn't have a lot of options at this point.
I removed myself to the bathroom to attempt getting a little poopie in the scoopie. Now I must say this too was quite a dilemma. What do you do? Do you try and catch it on the way down? Do you wipe off with it after finishing? Where were the directions with this thing? The bigger problem began before answering these questions though. After days of not being able to stop using the bathroom...I had stage fright. Sat for a while, no luck. I decided to walk around a bit and drink some hot tea (natural diuretic). Finally I returned to the bathroom.
This time I took some friends. I remember I was listening to Sarah McLachlan on my iPod, reading Donald Miller, and praying when finally it came. I went for the catch option, missing the first flight, but thankfully catching the second.
After thanking God for his work and that of Sarah and Donald I waited for results. I found out that if this kind of test shows positive it is 100%, but if negative it might not be 100%. Mine was negative, meaning I might not have anything.I was given some Imodium (I call it a plug), charged $200 USD, and told if the symptoms persisted return for more tests. My two roommates on the other hand did have something. One had a couple creatures living in his gut, and the other had contracted malaria. Now which of us is the lucky one...at least they know what is wrong with them.
So now I'm to Friday. Not well yet, although the symptoms have changed. Now I am exhausted and feel dizzy and lightheaded all the time. Maybe I'll return to the doctor Monday. Sure hope I don't have to because I'm well by then.
Thought I'd share. Thanks for lifting up every reality of life here.
I removed myself to the bathroom to attempt getting a little poopie in the scoopie. Now I must say this too was quite a dilemma. What do you do? Do you try and catch it on the way down? Do you wipe off with it after finishing? Where were the directions with this thing? The bigger problem began before answering these questions though. After days of not being able to stop using the bathroom...I had stage fright. Sat for a while, no luck. I decided to walk around a bit and drink some hot tea (natural diuretic). Finally I returned to the bathroom.
This time I took some friends. I remember I was listening to Sarah McLachlan on my iPod, reading Donald Miller, and praying when finally it came. I went for the catch option, missing the first flight, but thankfully catching the second.
After thanking God for his work and that of Sarah and Donald I waited for results. I found out that if this kind of test shows positive it is 100%, but if negative it might not be 100%. Mine was negative, meaning I might not have anything.I was given some Imodium (I call it a plug), charged $200 USD, and told if the symptoms persisted return for more tests. My two roommates on the other hand did have something. One had a couple creatures living in his gut, and the other had contracted malaria. Now which of us is the lucky one...at least they know what is wrong with them.
So now I'm to Friday. Not well yet, although the symptoms have changed. Now I am exhausted and feel dizzy and lightheaded all the time. Maybe I'll return to the doctor Monday. Sure hope I don't have to because I'm well by then.
Thought I'd share. Thanks for lifting up every reality of life here.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Hel-lo...
Nudity is viewed differently in the states than it is here. it is a strange paradox. Traditionally people are very modest and are well covered. This includes head covering and/or a blanket on top of their head and upper body.
At the same time it is pretty common to see a mother breast feeding in the middle of the road. In the countryside it is possible and not unlikely to see a woman wearing only a skirt with nothing covering her chest.
As common as it is I must admit I still get embarrassed at the site of a naked breast. While Mom and Dad were here we walked in on a girl changing. The previous day I had been shown a back entrance into a dining room of a café. It got me where I needed to be much quicker. On the day in question I had shown Dad and Whitney that door and now Mom and I were about to go through it.
Mom opened the door and turned to retreat. I gave her a slight push and said, "It is okay, go". Come to find out Mom was coming back because she had just walked in on a young girl changing shirts. I was to impatient to trust her and therefore we both walked in on her. I covered my face and apologized as the girl carried on like nothing happened.
The day before yesterday I went with my guard to refill our case of bottled cokes. We still use bottles. We return them to get refills. As we walked up to this small street side shop where I was to buy them a young girl entered from the door in the back of the store. Typically this door leads into the families one or two room house that is attached to the shop. She came out just as she would fully clothed the only difference is her shirt was still in her hand and she had no intention of wearing any thing under it.
I must admit, even after she put on her shirt I had a tough time shaking her hand.
At the same time it is pretty common to see a mother breast feeding in the middle of the road. In the countryside it is possible and not unlikely to see a woman wearing only a skirt with nothing covering her chest.
As common as it is I must admit I still get embarrassed at the site of a naked breast. While Mom and Dad were here we walked in on a girl changing. The previous day I had been shown a back entrance into a dining room of a café. It got me where I needed to be much quicker. On the day in question I had shown Dad and Whitney that door and now Mom and I were about to go through it.
Mom opened the door and turned to retreat. I gave her a slight push and said, "It is okay, go". Come to find out Mom was coming back because she had just walked in on a young girl changing shirts. I was to impatient to trust her and therefore we both walked in on her. I covered my face and apologized as the girl carried on like nothing happened.
The day before yesterday I went with my guard to refill our case of bottled cokes. We still use bottles. We return them to get refills. As we walked up to this small street side shop where I was to buy them a young girl entered from the door in the back of the store. Typically this door leads into the families one or two room house that is attached to the shop. She came out just as she would fully clothed the only difference is her shirt was still in her hand and she had no intention of wearing any thing under it.
I must admit, even after she put on her shirt I had a tough time shaking her hand.
Recap...
You should have just recently received my update email. If not than you aren't getting them for some reason. Having received it, you know that I have returned from Kenya and am home safe and super busy. Kenya ended okay. I made some friends while there and had some people to spend time with which helped the situation a lot.
But I was ready to get back home. I remember well stepping off the airplane and smelling the air. The air here has a distinct smell. It must be a combination between car exhaust, dead animals, excrement (human and animal), body odor, local spices, and animals. Sounds nice doesn't it. I think this is how I know I have fallen in love. The smell of the city was a welcome home. It was a wonderfully refreshing odor.
Since then much has happened. I've moved. The new house is nice and I am adjusting to roommates. I have actually begun mapping. I still don't know how to use the program to do it but I am learning and doing preliminary preparation. We secured a map and are beginning to transfer it into something usable.
My parents and two others from Lone Oak were here for a short time. It was such an encouragement to have them here. Two years ago I came here and fell in love. After returning home many asked about my trip but they wanted the 30-second version. It can't be done right. I eventually stopped telling. Then a month after being home I met with my parents in Arkansas. They asked about my summer and I gave the 30-second answer I had learned everyone wanted. They wouldn't settle for it. They sat me down and made me retell my experience. Now they have seen it and I believe they too have fallen in love with the people here. It is exciting.
Mom, Dad, Whitney, and I visited some historical sites here in the country. It was beautiful. I will try and post some pictures for you.
Our team has grown by four more people since I returned and we have already seen over 20 volunteers and the summer has just begun. Great things are happening and again I promise to do better updating you about them. Moving threw me out of wack for a bit.
But I was ready to get back home. I remember well stepping off the airplane and smelling the air. The air here has a distinct smell. It must be a combination between car exhaust, dead animals, excrement (human and animal), body odor, local spices, and animals. Sounds nice doesn't it. I think this is how I know I have fallen in love. The smell of the city was a welcome home. It was a wonderfully refreshing odor.
Since then much has happened. I've moved. The new house is nice and I am adjusting to roommates. I have actually begun mapping. I still don't know how to use the program to do it but I am learning and doing preliminary preparation. We secured a map and are beginning to transfer it into something usable.
My parents and two others from Lone Oak were here for a short time. It was such an encouragement to have them here. Two years ago I came here and fell in love. After returning home many asked about my trip but they wanted the 30-second version. It can't be done right. I eventually stopped telling. Then a month after being home I met with my parents in Arkansas. They asked about my summer and I gave the 30-second answer I had learned everyone wanted. They wouldn't settle for it. They sat me down and made me retell my experience. Now they have seen it and I believe they too have fallen in love with the people here. It is exciting.
Mom, Dad, Whitney, and I visited some historical sites here in the country. It was beautiful. I will try and post some pictures for you.
Our team has grown by four more people since I returned and we have already seen over 20 volunteers and the summer has just begun. Great things are happening and again I promise to do better updating you about them. Moving threw me out of wack for a bit.
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Ouch...
I got a chance to laugh at myself yesterday. I do so quite often I must admit, but yesterday was a good one. I found a little book store in a shopping center of sorts. I was trying to find a way to kill sometime so I went in to look. In the states I would frequent places like Barnes and Noble just to see what was new and to admire the covers. Here I am bored. Bookstores are tough here. If there is some order to them I have never figured it out. At home I can buy a book telling me how to use Microsoft Word...1997. So there isn't much new.
After rummaging around for a while I bought a book I've wanted to read for a while. Since being here I have read one in entirety and finished half of another. I bought the first Harry Potter. I've heard they were good so thought maybe I should join the club and see if I like them.
So on the way out I was still noticing the books in the window. I saw some videos and then what I thought was a box set of the Karate Kid movies on DVD. I leaned closer to see and whack!
Depth perception is an interesting thing. If you are focusing on something in the distance you might not even notice something up close. I looked like a bird or a fly trying to get back through a window. I rammed my head right into the glass.
As any American (maybe any person) would do I quickly did the looking around to see who was watching. The two Kenyans on the other side of the window were cracking up, as was the Kenyan man standing behind me. We all four had a good laugh as I rubbed my head. Come to find out it was just another video tape. So all of that embarrassment for nothing.
After rummaging around for a while I bought a book I've wanted to read for a while. Since being here I have read one in entirety and finished half of another. I bought the first Harry Potter. I've heard they were good so thought maybe I should join the club and see if I like them.
So on the way out I was still noticing the books in the window. I saw some videos and then what I thought was a box set of the Karate Kid movies on DVD. I leaned closer to see and whack!
Depth perception is an interesting thing. If you are focusing on something in the distance you might not even notice something up close. I looked like a bird or a fly trying to get back through a window. I rammed my head right into the glass.
As any American (maybe any person) would do I quickly did the looking around to see who was watching. The two Kenyans on the other side of the window were cracking up, as was the Kenyan man standing behind me. We all four had a good laugh as I rubbed my head. Come to find out it was just another video tape. So all of that embarrassment for nothing.
Friday, April 22, 2005
First Day in Kenya...
So far, not a fan of Kenya. The city here seems to be a city that decided to try modernity in the 70's. They failed and haven't updated much of anything since then. I started the day by going to a mall where I could get a computer serviced for a friend. I found the place and looked around some of it was interesting. I couldn't remember what I was supposed to do I in a place like that.
The number of white people here and amount of English spoken amazes me. This morning I was missing home pretty badly (and I mean my home in Africa). I kept catching myself speaking Amharic to people.
The part of the day I did enjoy started just after leaving that mall. I was warned not to be very careful if I chose to ride what I ride most often at home. It is like a small van. These seat 14 people and run specific routes. They are a very cheap form of transportation. This made me feel like I was back home with the people I love.
I rode for a while on 46, the one I was told to find. Then a man asked where I was going and I told him. He told me I passed it. Come to find out I got on 46 going the wrong way. I rode out into a small village like area of the city. It had dirt roads and little shops. It was my favorite part of the day. It looked like Africa!
I came back to my guesthouse to drop off some things and then went to a closer mall. I braved the vans again. This time I got on the right ones and got where I wanted. I was again disappointed though. The mall was rundown and didnt have anything very interesting. Man I miss Best Buy.
The funniest part of the day was the security guards in these malls. One helped me use an ATM...forgot my PIN. I had noticed his outfit just before starting. He wore black pants and shoes (normal), with a black nightstick (normal). His shirt was purple or blue (kind of weird, but almost normal) and he wore a black tie. Then came the shocker, on his head was a helmet. It was a baseball-batting helmet. No joke it was dead on a batting helmet...complete with the ear holes. I laughed a bit and finished my withdrawal. Later in the day I saw another. I was thankful for his ability to bring a smile to my face.
The number of white people here and amount of English spoken amazes me. This morning I was missing home pretty badly (and I mean my home in Africa). I kept catching myself speaking Amharic to people.
The part of the day I did enjoy started just after leaving that mall. I was warned not to be very careful if I chose to ride what I ride most often at home. It is like a small van. These seat 14 people and run specific routes. They are a very cheap form of transportation. This made me feel like I was back home with the people I love.
I rode for a while on 46, the one I was told to find. Then a man asked where I was going and I told him. He told me I passed it. Come to find out I got on 46 going the wrong way. I rode out into a small village like area of the city. It had dirt roads and little shops. It was my favorite part of the day. It looked like Africa!
I came back to my guesthouse to drop off some things and then went to a closer mall. I braved the vans again. This time I got on the right ones and got where I wanted. I was again disappointed though. The mall was rundown and didnt have anything very interesting. Man I miss Best Buy.
The funniest part of the day was the security guards in these malls. One helped me use an ATM...forgot my PIN. I had noticed his outfit just before starting. He wore black pants and shoes (normal), with a black nightstick (normal). His shirt was purple or blue (kind of weird, but almost normal) and he wore a black tie. Then came the shocker, on his head was a helmet. It was a baseball-batting helmet. No joke it was dead on a batting helmet...complete with the ear holes. I laughed a bit and finished my withdrawal. Later in the day I saw another. I was thankful for his ability to bring a smile to my face.
