Things are not what they seem

Last week after Bible club, little Emma (a common boy’s name here, short for Emmanuel) told me that he had been left alone at his house.  Emma comes and plays at our house as often as possible, and we have grown to love his sweet spirit and his ingenious “cars” that he makes out of anything he can find.  So when he told me quietly, with tears running down his face and lip quivering, that he had been abandoned by his family, we were all obviously disturbed.  Musa was nearby, so we asked him to get the whole story in Kisukuma, the local tribal language that is more familiar to Emma than Swahili.  Musa said that Emma’s family had left the day before (his mom and six siblings—his dad is no longer around) and they had packed up everything with them and left him in the village alone.  He said he had spent the night at his friend’s house, whose father is drunk almost all the time.  He was hungry and couldn’t stop crying.  While Amy was making him a sandwich, we tried to figure out the best way to proceed.  Musa said the best thing was to let him stay at his friend’s house one more night and then the next morning Musa would check into it all.  Musa said that maybe his family left him since they knew he had Americans for friends. 

When I got home that night, I just kept thinking about Emma and his siblings and how sad he was.  I didn’t think it was the right thing to bring him home with us, but I also wondered if living and understanding the poor more doesn’t always make us wiser—sometimes it makes us less compassionate than we should be, mainly because we’ve been around the block once or twice.  So our hearts were heavy as we prayed for Emma before the kids went to bed. 

In the morning, Musa took Emma to talk to the neighbors.  Before he could even get to the house, the neighbors were pointing at Emma and calling him a liar.  Come to find out, Emma’s family was still where they have always been, nobody went on any kind of trip, and Emma hadn’t wanted to go home because his mama told him to plow up the field and he hadn’t because he didn’t want to.

Hmmm, all that concern for nothing.  Really?  For nothing?  I don’t think so.  It seems like God gives us those opportunities to see where our hearts are at.  Are we for people, even if we get burned?  Are we willing to serve no matter what the cost, or only if people are straight up with us? 

Emma wears shorts that you can now see his whole backside through.  And those are the ones we gave him (that were nice about a month ago!) because we couldn’t stand to see him wearing his previous rags.  Not that he cares—he doesn’t particularly favor his backside to keep the seat of his pants intact!  He hasn’t gone to school because he is waiting for money from relatives to buy his school uniform shirt.  His mama works hard to try and provide for her six children with subsistence farming.  She has four children who are all from different fathers.  Before we shake our finger at her and tell her about sleeping around and getting AIDS, maybe we should think about what it would be like to be her and try and feed all those precious little people.  So we can keep loving Emma and showing him God’s love, because we know that we are also poor and needy (poverty can’t be just financial, can it?!) and all of us need a Rescuer. 

There was another death in our village last week, the death of a bibi (grandma) who had broken her leg and had been taken to the hospital.  Third world health care is such that we cringe when someone goes to the hospital, as this is how it often turns out. 

The funeral was on Sunday, and after the burial, the relatives and the whole village head to the family’s home.  Milka and I went as well, and sat at the back of the women’s side.  Funerals are always awkward—very much out of our comfort zone (and Milka’s too, even though she is Kenyan).   Searching squintingly for Baseki, the gal who helps in our house, we finally spotted her and asked her to come over and sit with us.  Baseki is very sweet, a neighbor of these people, and she is a good friend of mine and Milka’s.  We asked her how long we needed to stay before we could go say “sorry” to the family (we had both already been to the house once) .  Baseki looked shocked—we had just gotten there!  (We found out later that Baseki would sleep at the house that night--even though she lived two minutes away walking distance.  All of the relatives and close friends would sleep there, out on the dirt on whatever kanga they had with them.)  But we wanted to be polite, so we were curious to know how long was long enough (I know that sounds cold and uncaring, but remember that funerals usually last three days!).  Baseki said it was “essential” that we stay for food.  It was the biggest funeral I have seen, and I said that because I wasn’t hungry and everyone else would be eating the bereaved out of house and home, could I not eat?  Well, it’s “mostly essential” that you do eat.  OK, so Milka and I decided to comply and do our part with the food. 

My eyes about popped out of my head when they brought the plates out—enough food for all eight of us to eat.  Baseki started laughing so hard she had tears coming out of her eyes and she kept wiping them away with her kanga (cloth wrap).  She couldn't get over how incredulous we were. 

We shoveled in some rice and beans with our hands, then I went to pay the “book”—the account of everyone who was at the funeral and what they paid to be there.  If you don’t go to a funeral, you still pay in.  They keep track of everyone in that little book.  So I went to pay my “lambi lambi” and I only had 1,000 shillings because that was a little more than what you pay.  When I got to the book, there were about thirty people standing around (remember, “standing around” in much of the world looks more like “standing on top of” in America).  So there were plenty of ears to hear that I HAD A FUNERAL DEBT that had rapidly accumulated from funerals we hadn’t attended of people we didn’t know.  After paying for my big debt, I asked the keeper of the book to please check off the boxes for the funerals I had just paid for.  It has taken six years to learn this, but I’m finally getting my head around the fact that we might have already paid for these same funerals several times!  He said he would check them off later.  “I don’t think so, pal.” :) He grudgingly obliged. 

Funerals are so fundamental to this culture and building relationships.  Marco told me once, “You don’t have to go to funerals, but if you don’t, you will never be a part of them.”  From these western eyes, it looks like it’s all about money and food, especially when you are supposed to go to funerals of people you have never met, but yesterday an old man told Dave, “We cannot say thank you enough for coming close to us this weekend.  Thank you." 

Things are not what they seem. 

So when circumstances feel discouraging or cloudy, or we think that we have somebody or something figured out, we must remember that what we SEE with our eyes is not reality. 
We walk by faith, not by sight, not only for things unseen,
but even the things we think we can see.

“In everything we see, God is doing a million things we will never see or know..."
John Piper

"I will bless the Lord at all times,

 His praise will continually be on my mouth.  

My soul will boast in the LORD; 

let the afflicted hear and rejoice. 

 Glorify the LORD with me; 

let us exalt His name together.

Those who look to Him are radiant; 

their faces are never covered with shame. 

Taste and see that the LORD is good; 

blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him." 
 Ps 34

october, so soon?!

I am still wondering how we got all the way to FALL, or rainy season in Tanzania.  The year has fairly flown by.  Part of the reason I have been a little slack in posting is because of our internet dilemmas, which like to present themselves as often as possible just in case life in the bush becomes a little too predictable!  Somehow, there doesn't seem to be a good time to fit in "sit on the back of the bed with the internet modem out the window to get reception so that at least the 'Google' thing appears and tempts me to try and actually look something up, when in all actuality I know that it is incapable of really "cruising" (I use the term loosely) the waves for anything more than the results of the search" into the daily schedule.  But I digress, and truly, there is no need to elaborate, much less complain!

Lauren, Megan and Kate enjoying the downpour

Rainy season is upon us, with torrential African rains pounding the house, followed by cool breezes or drizzle and then the intermittent sun.  Cries of, "THE LAUNDRY!" can usually be heard daily when the first drops start their descent and we race to see if we are, indeed, faster than the weather.  Kate has battled a tremendous fear of thunder, but she now bravely faces the storms with a confident (in the arms of somebody), "God is the one who made the thunder and lightening!"  Seeing the need for a good wash, we started scrubbing at the car last week just as the rain began falling.  Meggy got so excited.  "MOM!  God is helping us wash the car and now He's taking pictures of us, too!" That was the lightening she was referring to, and no, they weren't up-close pictures. :)  

This has been a hungry year for Tanzania, not to mention Kenya and some of the other surrounding countries.  The shilling here continues to lose value as the prices rise even higher for food and goods.  We are praying that the people will gather in an abundant harvest this year, and will give praise to God for it!  

New believers are such a blessing, aren't they?  That is definitely the case with the little church that has been started here in Kitongo.  We have no doubt that Satan has wanted to kill and steal and destroy everything that God had done to rescue and redeem.  However, after a rough start and serious issues along the way, God is more at work than ever and the church is staying faithful and committed.  It blesses us to be a part of it and see God's power.

Alicia Hazlett joined us last month, and is teaching the Mbugua children (our first home) every day now.  Alicia is a terrific teacher from Bozeman who is working to develop curriculum and a plan for our school-aged children at Mavuno.  Previously, she came out to Tanzania for a year to teach all of our children when we went to language school.  So she (mostly!) knew what she was getting into, and it is awesome to have her back!

Taylor and Kate share a moment.

We also got to have Taylor Balian with us for a little while a couple of weeks ago.  Taylor used to work here at Mavuno and work with us, and it was great to catch up with him and all that he is doing now in Sudan.  

Yesterday Moshi found a baby puff adder in our back yard and put it in a container for me.  As he handed it to me (lid off), he said he had caught a snake for the children (he knows they are fond of reptiles!).  As I was looking into it, he said, "It's not a very good kind, though.  It bites."  Oh, you must be talking about "Africa's Most Dangerous Snake."  Puff adders are extremely poisonous and some of our least favorite snakes around here, as they lay perfectly still until you step on them or get very close, when they strike.  Although typically sluggish, they have the fastest strike of any snake around.  So it was with great caution that I showed the kids, then taped the plastic on heartily until Dave could get home and see it.  I set it on the back of the counter where no one could reach it--not that I didn't make a whole bunch of threats as I was doing so.  Dave came home later and did the honors of killing it after taking a good look at it.  You're probably wondering how Moshi got it in a one-inch top of a container alive. "I just used a stick," he smiled. :)

our favorite reptiles!

In between the time I had it and Dave came home, I was thinking about that little snake just sitting there in its secure container.  I was absolutely sure no one could get the lid off, except Hannah, and even if it dropped on the floor, there was no way it could get out.  It seemed harmless enough.  It had beautiful coloring and shiny eyes.  As far as snakes go, it was gorgeous!  It reminded me of a story we read recently together, "Amanda and the Dragon," from Tales of the Kingdom.  The basic premise being that we can have forbidden things that seem harmless that in the end take us further away than ever before from where we want to be.  And that the little, tiny harmless things are the ones that grow and pursue us and in the end destroy us.  The author ends with, "When one loves a forbidden thing, one loses what one loves most. This truth is a hard-won battle for each who finds it and is always gained by loss.”  It always takes tremendous courage to kill what rages against us.  Dave and I want to be diligent to seek out and put to death those things that push us to compromise.  We want to be careful not to let a puff adder sit on the counter in an innocent looking container, thinking it will never grow, never harm us.  Please pray with us and for us, that we would honor God in the things we do, even the "little" things!

Feeling the School Daze

We’re finally finishing up our year of school.  We had a “relaxed” spring as we traveled and caught up with friends.  Actually, I saw it more like cramming three years of American socialization for the kids into five months.  So we have been plugging away at last year, paying our respective dues to having a really good time back in the States.   

Finishing up this week, we start next year’s school next week.  Not much of a summer break, but like I mentioned, it’s not like we have been without a break of any sort! 

Starting a new year always has me thinking about organization, how to get it all done.  Homeschooling lends itself well to spending time on heart attitudes and getting to know God and His word, but I have often found that my focus quickly becomes ‘getting it all done,’ usually at the expense of the things I thought were important to begin with.  So we schedule, and we pray, and we know that God will give wisdom and understanding, and that ultimately there is no wisdom apart from Him! 

Hannah will be in 10^th grade this year.  She and Launa will be Biology-ing together this year, as well as studying Swahili.  They push eachother on and (usually) manage to get some things done without too much messing around!  Hannah is super self-motivated (a blessing to her teacher!) and I also love having her teach science to the three little girls.

Jake will be in 7^th grade.  He loves working outside or on construction with his dad a lot more than he loves sitting at a book, but he still does well in school.  Jake is always ready for a distraction, anything that might be more interesting than fractions and circumference.  He is great at helping the younger ones with their work and is a super encourager.

Carter likes to make things interesting in most subjects, making jokes whenever he can and keeping everybody happy.  He loves Star Wars, legos, and anything that has to do with light sabers.  If he gets too wild, I can always ‘force’ him back into his seat, Star Wars style. 

Lauren loves school, is learning how to make her lefty-handwriting neat, and is an incredible help with her two younger sisters.  She loves drawing, making friendship bracelets, any kind of art, and she and Meggy made some really great paper mache pots recently. 

Megan is starting first grade this year, plows through her little workbook pages,  and LOVES going through stacks of paper with pictures she has drawn for everyone.  She also really enjoys cooking, as do Lauren and Kate, which makes for three girls mixing up something in the kitchen most days!

 Kate is a rambunctious 3.  Usually we keep the littler ones scheduled pretty well so that I can guarantee some uninterrupted teaching time, but Kate is very content to sit at the table with a paper and “write” for a very long time.  When she isn’t doing that, she is usually with us trying to participate. J  Having a little one in the mix makes things busier, but so much additional learning happens inadvertently that she already knows some prepositions and I caught her singing the British Isles song around the house a couple weeks back. 

This is our home….not so different than doing the same thing in America, but Daddy goes to work at Mavuno and we all get to participate in whatever ways we can.  It is a privilege to be able to live right on campus and have opportunities around us.  And teaching school is the loaves and fish--I never feel like enough, but God blesses and increases what we give to Him. 

 The home is still the greatest mission field

(not to mention, the most sactifying)!

How do I serve?

Milka and I sat on the small stone wall talking after Bible club.  She had used a word I was unfamiliar with.  What does “tumikia mean?” I asked.  She said it meant to be “used up.”  You mean like using the sugar or the rice up completely?  No, she said, “It a word that means “service” or “to serve.”  

What a great picture.  I just kept thinking about that definition for the rest of the afternoon.  I had pictured an empty rice bucket or sugar container, every bit of it gone.   But the meaning was so much deeper—to be used up, spent—what a perfect way to explain service. 

It’s easy, isn’t it, to want to give some of us.  To be generous to an extent:  not just with resources—more often with our time and energy.  We want to pour our lives out, but not when it costs us too much or takes away from the things we really want to do.  Honestly, we sometimes think of giving up precious time as taking up our cross.  Seriously?  The instrument of death?  We think dying to ourselves looks like not yelling at the neighbor kids (or our own kids!)?  Surely, by God’s grace, we can do better than that!  “Whoever wants to be my disciple must take up his cross and follow me.”  Take up our cross, lay down our dreams and desires and hopes, and be free to carry the “light” and “easy” burden that Jesus offers in return.  Anything I could offer him would pale in comparison.

The church voices singing this simple chorus on Sunday stay with us:

“We’re leaving the sin of the world, we’re following Jesus our liberator/redeemer.”

“Oh, make our little lives count.

For the glory of your name.

Rivet our attention on Your cross,

And fuse our affection to yourself.

So open our mouths

And open our hands

And open our wallets

While we have breath

And make us the most radically

Loving people on earth

For the joy of all peoples

And the renown of your Name.”

--John Piper

Psalm 139 in pictures

For you created my inmost being; 

Bianca

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

Aika

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; 

Aika

your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Michael

My frame was not hidden from you 

Helena

when I was made in the secret place.

Pili, Helena, Aika

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, 

Sammy

your eyes saw my unformed body.  

Sammy and Jonathan

All the days ordained for me 

were written in your book before one of them came to be.   

Welcome, Sammy!  

We can't imagine any little person we would want around here more than you!

Dave of all trades

Life rolls on out here in the bush.  It has been refreshing to be back in a good routine of school and work, in particular. 

Dave was nominated to be the “mlezi of the choir” last Sunday, much to his surprise.  We usually tend to tune out during announcements, which can be lengthy at times.  So when he heard “Daudi” (David, in Swahili), it made him sit up and pay attention, only to find out that they really were talking about him.  There was much vigelegele (women doing that high-pitch yelling thing) and rejoicing, now to his great dismay.  Since we have only been to that church several times, we were a little wary about what being the mlezi really involved.

When we got back to the house later, we found out what Dave learned after the service.  Looking up mlezi in the Swahili dictionary, we were informed on the various meanings:  tonsillitis, or swollen neck glands (not anything to vigelegele about, really), a baby’s swinging cot (unlikely), or a guardian, or custodian.  Ahhhh, it was all becoming clear.  As the choir master had patiently elaborated with Dave, he was in charge of fixing any broken instruments, and general “sponsorship” of the choir.  This was particularly funny, as there is only one instrument: a very sturdy drum.  Not easily broken, but if in fact it does break, Dave will be first to be notified.  Time to update the resume. :)

Teen Week and Cultural Clues

 Our youth camp ended last weekend.  We weren’t the only ones with jet lag!  All of our staff was exhausted after a week with 40 teenagers.  Never having done this before, it was a tremendous success after much work and preparation by the staff.  These 40 youth are Mavuno children who have been placed in off-campus Christian homes, and their siblings from that home.  It was a unique chance to teach and disciple these children, and the speakers and all those involved did a tremendous job.

Game time in the morning

Their days started off early with “Body Exercises,” then chai and the first meeting of the day.  Our speakers shared on salvation, creation, AIDS, abortion, sexual purity, and peer pressure.  

conference hall

One of the counselors spoke on different youth in the Bible.  The teens seemed very receptive, reinforced by their testimonies at the end of the week.  Many of them feel alone in their faith back in their respective homes. 

Elliot, Seth and Shaina color with the Mbugua kids

Jen and Charlie 

Our team from Cardwell, along with the Manns and Elliot Heumier brought supplies for crafts, and prepared all the games for the week.  John and Malucha prepared the schedule and kept everyone on time.  Things ran so smoothly!  One of the teams won because three of their members memorized at least 40 verses that week. 

Not your typical dentist office backdrop.  Dr. Ian checks people out on our back porch. :)

I took a big group (18) in the Land Cruiser out to the main road (my only contribution to camp, mind you!) and they sang the WHOLE way.  I was ready to keep driving to Cairo just so I could enjoy it!  Please pray that the things they learned last week would stay with them and they would be encouraged in the Lord!

On a different note, two days ago two of the mamas from the village that I have gotten to know came to visit and brought two fresh tilapia for me.  I was SO blessed.  They had their buckets, on the way to the lake to get water, and they acted like it was no big deal.  It was a big deal to me!  They are very poor, they work extremely hard, and fish is more expensive than ever.  How humbling to receive their gift.  I was also thinking (quite honestly), how am I going to gut and de-scale these before dinner (which was an hour away).  I am not amazing with fish.  But, oh happy day, they had already prepared them for me.  No doubt they knew I was a clueless white girl I had other things to do at the moment.  As I finished what I was doing, I had plenty of time to consider how often in my life (if ever), I have given out of my poverty and not from my wealth.  I have so much to learn.

Fish, Tanzanian style, eyeballs intact.  Don't worry, you get used to them looking at you.

Hannah makes dessert to go with the fish.  "I don't like pictures of me cooking," says the domestic goddess.  Making a sword, skinning a snake, climbing huge rocks, holding lizards, yes, but cooking is not in the amazing category. :)

Yesterday, Dave and I went to visit an elderly couple that we know who live close by.  It turned out to be a very cultural experience, and you might want to preview this before reading to your children, if you are more of a private kind of family. J  We walked across the parched land, thirsty for rain after a very pathetic rainy season.  Mr. Misungui and his grandchildren were out digging sweet potatoes in their field.  I wondered aloud to Dave if he was thinking, “Great, here come visitors and I have all this work to do before the sun sets,” which made us both laugh because these people are so hospitable and kind, I’m sure it was the last thing on his mind.  “KARIBU!” he yelled, as he threw out hasty instructions to the two little children to finish digging.  He led us past the “shower,” a little squared-off area surrounded by tall grasses all fixed together.  We greeted the mama (his wife), and they pulled up two small “chairs” for us to sit on.  They were so excited that we had come to visit.  That was humbling.  Mama Misungui has had some kind of problem with her legs for a long time, and now her arm is very painful as well.  She was happy to see us, though, and we sat down outside with the two of them, their little radio talking away right next to her chair. 

We found out that they had twin grandchildren now (one was on the sister’s back).  Come to find out, Mr. M had delivered them himself, as a health officer.  Right there in the mud hut.  The first one was breech, and they didn’t know there were two until the second came.  They laughed when we asked if there had been problems.  “No problem!” 

We chatted for a while, and then Mr. M told us that he has been teaching in the village about health issues.  He went into his hut and pulled out his bag with flip-chart books that he taught from.  Put out by UNICEF, USAID, and several others, they were very comprehensive about a number of family health matters.   Then he proceeded to walk through these booklets with us: how to properly nurse a baby (which he also demonstrated on himself—“This is the way you hold the breast up, not just letting it hang down.”) and “Can you guess which picture is the right way for a baby to latch on?”  And he was pleased when we could.  “Now see, this is the woman nursing and here is the family around her, watching, smiling.”  Then the pictures of how to scoop up a child’s diarrhea from the floor with a shovel and take it to the outhouse, not just leave it there.  After that it was how to care for a pregnant woman.  “Don’t just let her go to the clinic on her own, her husband should take her, or put her on a

Bicycle.

Which, even in the picture, didn’t look very comfortable.  But was culturally appropriate.

"Don’t go to the bathroom right next to the outhouse, go IN the outhouse." This has always perplexed me, so I asked why, indeed, the man would go outside instead of just going in.  He said, “Oh, it’s work to go in!”  And then a picture of a woman squatting in the bushes with the moon above her.  “Don’t go in the bush, go in the outhouse!”  He obviously could attest to the helpfulness of these hints.  He himself had a brick outhouse that had “Choo Bora” painted on the outside:  "Good outhouse."

Here comes another one of those humbling parts.  He said, after talking, that it is their custom to at least have chai or some food for their guests, that it was bad to have us come and not have food ready.  I said that it wasn’t bad in America, and that we would come another time for chai.  Then we prayed for mama’s hand, and as we got up to leave, the two bitty ones who had been digging for their dinner, brought the sweet potatoes to Grandma and she put more than half of them in a bag

For us

Who have enough food every day

And have never been hungry in our lives

And haven’t ever dug for anything to eat

And hadn’t done anything for them, except visit

And that was humbling.

“Let us pray Him, therefore, to shed abroad in us the mind that was in Christ; that we may offer up ourselves to be disposed of as He sees best, whether for joy or sorrow; to be slighted, or esteemed; to have many friends, or to dwell in a lonely home; to be passed by, or called to serve Him and His kingdom in our own land, or among people of a strange tongue; to be, to go, to do, to suffer even as He wills, even as He ordains, even as Christ endured, ‘who, through the Eternal Spirit, offered Himself without spot to God.’”   --Henry Edward Manning

Things we saw on the way home

Traveling home from Kenya brought back all the realities of life in Africa.  It is good to get away and appreciate the uniqueness of this place again.  I thought I would share some of the sights with you on the 12-hour trek home.

We started out with Chris, Lindy and Ezra Thompson. 

 

Leaving early the next morning, we headed down the escarpment of the Great Rift Valley.  I always love seeing it in the early morning.  

It's hard to tell from the picture, but people have set up shop on the very edge of the road, then literally propped up their shops with long poles, so that with one slip of the foot, a customer could easily tumble over the huge cliff.  Not a happy thought.  And the bathroom that is perched above the drop-off is less than tempting!

Past the tea fields in Kenya

And numerous people carrying tea from the fields to the trucks with large hanging tea baskets

Banana pickup point

Matatus (public transport), with the man who takes the money hanging out the door.  This is how they get more customers and dangle out of the permanently-open van door.

I took this of the men fixing the truck, but I like the propped up pole even better.

Women collecting water in their plastic jugs from the well

Carrying water around to sell

Magic Obama Pops.  Who could ask for more?  It is almost as popular as Obama gum.

Most vehicles like to print sayings of one kind or another.  This truck, "No pain, no gain."  I don't like driving towards a truck driver who has this kind of mission statement. 

Things for sale on the side of the road

A gas station, a broken-down truck, a random cow

Furniture store, mosque

Walking Wal-mart:  who needs a store when the store comes to your window?

 Grass for cows, walking down the road

 Furniture shop called, "Fly Emirates workshop"

Ready to get home!

Soap stone sellers

Trucks with sugar cane on board, and beautiful, paved roads!

Moving house on public transport

Back to the land of Coke and Pepsi buildings in abundance

Huts on the edge of the Serengeti, 2 hours from home

A little shnooze

Musa, overjoyed at finally being home

On to Mavuno, 7 km from Musa's.  A tomato seller on the road

Tomatoes weren't all that was on the road!

Happy reunions

And YOUTH CAMP!  40 teens for the week

Youth camp was a huge success, no thanks to us!  We arrived in the middle of the week and it was a great way to start our time back.  Waking up to 40 children singing at the top of their lungs was amazing.  A team from Cardwell, MT and Jen and Charlie Mann were also here to welcome us, along with billions of lake flies that have been buzzing into the house every night. :)  Praise God, we're back!  Will post more later about youth camp.