Some prayer request for you!
Rainy season has a nasty setback—malaria. Seems we’re getting into malaria season now as well, so pray the clinic can get the right meds (especially for children) and that people would actually go get the meds and take care of themselves. (Last year, we came back from vacation and Mary’s son was dead, from malaria. Franco has it now, and I couldn’t bear to lose another one of our neighbors—it’s one of my biggest fears.)
We’re working on our ethnograph papers now for the TIMO curriculum, which basically means we take a really close look at one particular part of the culture. It’s actually really a cool thing, but hard because of the language barrier—especially for us women—and the reluctance to talk about most stuff. Really digging into the culture like this could help us uncover keys for the Gospel, so be lifting that up. I’m working on death rites and funerals, so we’ll see what I uncover there.
Please be bringing our team before the throne. We’re all back now—praise God! As always, there is team unity. Then for Joshua & Co., as they readjust with baby Joy and try to get back into the language. We also have year-end evaluations soon—a chance to look back at this past year and forward at the year ahead, as well as considering options beyond TIMO. I’m excited about these.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thank you, Canada!
Alright, this is going to be a little bit strange, I guess. But…
Crystal, Natalie, the girls of Schindler Hall and all ya’ll at Taylor University College… Here’s a huge THANK YOU, coming at you from the very thankful and newly encouraged members of this TIMO team. :) Oh, and, while we’re at it, here’s wishing you a happy Canada Day… which, according to my Cubs calendar, is next Monday. I don’t even know if people in Canada wish other Canadian folks a happy (merry?) Canada Day, but I figure it doesn’t hurt in trying, right?
Anyway, I can only assume this mystery package’s senders are the same Canadian college students who, a long while back, talked to ol’ Steve-o about corresponding with us. And, to tell you the truth, I have no idea how it all went down, but he must’ve referred you to this blog (which is why I’m making this pathetic attempt at contacting you on it) and you’ve been following and praying for us, so much as I gather. And we appreciate that very, very much!
The package came a bit ago and a handful of us ohh-ed and ahh-ed at its contents as I opened it on the porch. Actually, Iris took some wonderful pictures—one particularly precious one of Craig showing his excitement over the included feminine products, I think—but I wasn’t able to get them from her quite yet to post up here. I’ll work on it! We had a drawing yesterday at team day to divvy up the rest of the goodies. It was a nice treat.
So, anyway, it’s awesome to know you’re following along on here and keeping us in prayer. That’s amazing. Drop me an email if you do somehow read this (aclinard@gmail.com), because I’d love to find out just what your class or whatever is all about. Pretty sweet to know there are people all over lifting up this lonely mountain range!
Crystal, Natalie, the girls of Schindler Hall and all ya’ll at Taylor University College… Here’s a huge THANK YOU, coming at you from the very thankful and newly encouraged members of this TIMO team. :) Oh, and, while we’re at it, here’s wishing you a happy Canada Day… which, according to my Cubs calendar, is next Monday. I don’t even know if people in Canada wish other Canadian folks a happy (merry?) Canada Day, but I figure it doesn’t hurt in trying, right?
Anyway, I can only assume this mystery package’s senders are the same Canadian college students who, a long while back, talked to ol’ Steve-o about corresponding with us. And, to tell you the truth, I have no idea how it all went down, but he must’ve referred you to this blog (which is why I’m making this pathetic attempt at contacting you on it) and you’ve been following and praying for us, so much as I gather. And we appreciate that very, very much!
The package came a bit ago and a handful of us ohh-ed and ahh-ed at its contents as I opened it on the porch. Actually, Iris took some wonderful pictures—one particularly precious one of Craig showing his excitement over the included feminine products, I think—but I wasn’t able to get them from her quite yet to post up here. I’ll work on it! We had a drawing yesterday at team day to divvy up the rest of the goodies. It was a nice treat.
So, anyway, it’s awesome to know you’re following along on here and keeping us in prayer. That’s amazing. Drop me an email if you do somehow read this (aclinard@gmail.com), because I’d love to find out just what your class or whatever is all about. Pretty sweet to know there are people all over lifting up this lonely mountain range!
Monday, June 25, 2007
The Buzz…
Abuba excused me from playing the last two nights, on account of my suffering.
You see, it’s been a rough past few days in Lopitland.
Kimmie and I had the bright idea Saturday to climb up to the top of a little neighboring mountain—the one we had church on not long ago—and shoot a video greeting for Annika, Steve & Co.’s recently departed school teacher. It was her favorite place in Lopitland.
Well, I’m here to tell you it’s now my least favorite place, despite all the warm-and-fuzzies associated with Annika.
The long and short of It is that I climbed into a tree at the very top of the mountain, only to find said tree was the home of a giant beehive. On any normal day, we would have been fine—and I assure Kimpie to that affect. (We later learned that thieves had come the night before and stole all the honey, so the bees were already agitated.) But next thing we know, we’re absolutely swarmed by the things and fleeing down the mountain, screaming and flailing and completely at the whim of the little beasts. You know in the cartoons when there’s this big arrow of angry bees? That’s pretty much what it was like. I just kept thinking, it’s got to end soon; they’ve got to stop. But they didn’t stop. It’s safe to say I was frantic. And to make it worse, after the initial barrage had passed, I had to go back up the mountain to get the video camera… and was attacked again, though—praise God—by a lesser army.
We spent the rest of Saturday in a miserable state—burning all over and unable to get any sort of relief. We pounded down the antihistamines and lathered up with cream, to no avail. Sunday went by in similar fashion. Poor Kimmie looks like she has a golf ball lodged in her cheek and swollen Mickey Mouse hands. My whole body is like a pincushion—I’m talking dozens of stings. And it doesn’t help that I’d just absolutely fried my frontside playing at the river. Then I got up in the middle of the night and was so doped I slammed my head against my stool and have a knot just above my eyebrow. Like I said, it’s been a rough few days!
And there you have it, the story of our current misery. Or, as the Lopit would say, our suffering. Laudina and Abuba lu-lu-lu-ed at our pitiful fate and have told us maybe a thousand times how the bees are bad, bad, bad. They’ve made us promise never to go up that mountain again. They’re such dear friends and have done their best to inform the whole of the community about our little adventure. (Gee, thanks!) Our friends keep coming by to “look” at us (the literal translation sounds a bit funny there) and tell us how bad bees are and how we should never, never, never go back there.
So perhaps the blessing in all this is that we’re just that much more humbled before our neighbors. Or that we were able to see how much they really do care.
Or maybe God just thought the Lopit needed another good laugh at the expense of their white visitors? ;)
You see, it’s been a rough past few days in Lopitland.
Kimmie and I had the bright idea Saturday to climb up to the top of a little neighboring mountain—the one we had church on not long ago—and shoot a video greeting for Annika, Steve & Co.’s recently departed school teacher. It was her favorite place in Lopitland.
Well, I’m here to tell you it’s now my least favorite place, despite all the warm-and-fuzzies associated with Annika.
The long and short of It is that I climbed into a tree at the very top of the mountain, only to find said tree was the home of a giant beehive. On any normal day, we would have been fine—and I assure Kimpie to that affect. (We later learned that thieves had come the night before and stole all the honey, so the bees were already agitated.) But next thing we know, we’re absolutely swarmed by the things and fleeing down the mountain, screaming and flailing and completely at the whim of the little beasts. You know in the cartoons when there’s this big arrow of angry bees? That’s pretty much what it was like. I just kept thinking, it’s got to end soon; they’ve got to stop. But they didn’t stop. It’s safe to say I was frantic. And to make it worse, after the initial barrage had passed, I had to go back up the mountain to get the video camera… and was attacked again, though—praise God—by a lesser army.
We spent the rest of Saturday in a miserable state—burning all over and unable to get any sort of relief. We pounded down the antihistamines and lathered up with cream, to no avail. Sunday went by in similar fashion. Poor Kimmie looks like she has a golf ball lodged in her cheek and swollen Mickey Mouse hands. My whole body is like a pincushion—I’m talking dozens of stings. And it doesn’t help that I’d just absolutely fried my frontside playing at the river. Then I got up in the middle of the night and was so doped I slammed my head against my stool and have a knot just above my eyebrow. Like I said, it’s been a rough few days!
And there you have it, the story of our current misery. Or, as the Lopit would say, our suffering. Laudina and Abuba lu-lu-lu-ed at our pitiful fate and have told us maybe a thousand times how the bees are bad, bad, bad. They’ve made us promise never to go up that mountain again. They’re such dear friends and have done their best to inform the whole of the community about our little adventure. (Gee, thanks!) Our friends keep coming by to “look” at us (the literal translation sounds a bit funny there) and tell us how bad bees are and how we should never, never, never go back there.
So perhaps the blessing in all this is that we’re just that much more humbled before our neighbors. Or that we were able to see how much they really do care.
Or maybe God just thought the Lopit needed another good laugh at the expense of their white visitors? ;)
Friday, June 22, 2007
Just another Francis morning…
I’ve just been having so much fun here lately, and loving the people—especially the kids—so much.
Grasshopper (Francis/Odwari) is as adorable as ever. The other morning I looked up from my Bible to see him grinning through my window screen. We weren’t ready to come out and play yet, so I just gave him one of my softballs.
He proceeded to stand on one side of the yard, throw it to the other, pitter-patter over to it, throw it back again, pitter-patter over to it… over and over again. I couldn’t help but grin as he skittered from one corner of my window to the other.
African kids clearly aren’t made to be alone!
Here’s that picture I promised ya’ll the other day. Our little Odwari is quite the worker. I’m not sure what I’ll do without this kid.
Grasshopper (Francis/Odwari) is as adorable as ever. The other morning I looked up from my Bible to see him grinning through my window screen. We weren’t ready to come out and play yet, so I just gave him one of my softballs.
He proceeded to stand on one side of the yard, throw it to the other, pitter-patter over to it, throw it back again, pitter-patter over to it… over and over again. I couldn’t help but grin as he skittered from one corner of my window to the other.
African kids clearly aren’t made to be alone!
Here’s that picture I promised ya’ll the other day. Our little Odwari is quite the worker. I’m not sure what I’ll do without this kid.
Sunshine Kid
I gave Paula, Grasshopper and Franco sunglasses the other day. You could say it’s been a big hit.
Here’s Franco. He puts these babies on and turns into a dancin’, laughin’ fool. Franco wouldn’t even talk when we first came, now he’s quite the chatterbox!
He’s currently squealing and laughing as he runs around my yard, chasing the softball he and Francis are throwing back and forth. I’m currently trying to figure out how I can fit them into my checked baggage on the way home…
Here’s Franco. He puts these babies on and turns into a dancin’, laughin’ fool. Franco wouldn’t even talk when we first came, now he’s quite the chatterbox!
He’s currently squealing and laughing as he runs around my yard, chasing the softball he and Francis are throwing back and forth. I’m currently trying to figure out how I can fit them into my checked baggage on the way home…
Ridin’ the River
It’s been a long time since my butt has hurt this much—or my heart has been so happy.
I joined in a wonderful Lopit pastime the other day when I went to the river with Paula and the girls to fetch water. They dropped their water cans and their dresses, then squirted down the moss-covered rock river bed on their butts.
I wanted to resist, but it wasn’t long ‘til I, too, was ridin’ the river in my skivvies. Oh, gosh, it was amazing. Kimmie was a bit ticked at me—we’ve long been planning a covert night mission to take on said Lopit waterslide—but she and I both went this afternoon and had an aMAZing time.
Here’s a picture of our new favorite spot, so you can get an idea how great this place is. If you only knew what you were missing…
I joined in a wonderful Lopit pastime the other day when I went to the river with Paula and the girls to fetch water. They dropped their water cans and their dresses, then squirted down the moss-covered rock river bed on their butts.
I wanted to resist, but it wasn’t long ‘til I, too, was ridin’ the river in my skivvies. Oh, gosh, it was amazing. Kimmie was a bit ticked at me—we’ve long been planning a covert night mission to take on said Lopit waterslide—but she and I both went this afternoon and had an aMAZing time.
Here’s a picture of our new favorite spot, so you can get an idea how great this place is. If you only knew what you were missing…
Toddlers Tippin’ Back
There are moments where you’re forced to look right in the face of the culture here.
We had one of those this morning.
Little Monica—our neighbor Ebiong’s daughter who is probably not even two—came wobbling into our kitchen. We called her over to the table, so we could shake her grimy hand. (Monica is known for being quite the stinky kid, bless her heart.)
Then we realize she’s carrying this equally grimy red mug. And, sure enough, when Kim gives it a wiff, what’s inside?
Balu.
We could just imagine Ebiong, “Alright, kid, I’m going to the field for the day. Here’s a mug of balu for breakfast. Now skitter off to the white peoples’ house and play.”
And that’s… completely normal. Hahaha.
We had one of those this morning.
Little Monica—our neighbor Ebiong’s daughter who is probably not even two—came wobbling into our kitchen. We called her over to the table, so we could shake her grimy hand. (Monica is known for being quite the stinky kid, bless her heart.)
Then we realize she’s carrying this equally grimy red mug. And, sure enough, when Kim gives it a wiff, what’s inside?
Balu.
We could just imagine Ebiong, “Alright, kid, I’m going to the field for the day. Here’s a mug of balu for breakfast. Now skitter off to the white peoples’ house and play.”
And that’s… completely normal. Hahaha.
The Little Things…
Sometimes it’s the littlest things that feel like huge steps forward here in Lopit.
This morning as Ebiong was leaving for the field, she hollered over here and asked us to take her clothes inside if it rained.
And that neighborly little gesture, for whatever reason, made me feel really, really happy.
I know we’ll always be white. And we’ll always be a little queer in our ways. But if ever we could just be their friends—to any degree—that’s where my heart is.
This morning as Ebiong was leaving for the field, she hollered over here and asked us to take her clothes inside if it rained.
And that neighborly little gesture, for whatever reason, made me feel really, really happy.
I know we’ll always be white. And we’ll always be a little queer in our ways. But if ever we could just be their friends—to any degree—that’s where my heart is.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Planes, Trains and Automobiles…
Well, we’re back in Lopit. We ended up joining a MAF flight back home because of a myriad of problems. Some important bridge was out between Loki and Nairobi, so there was no diesel (not to mention fresh vegetables) in Loki and the truck we were supposed to load our groceries in couldn’t come from Nairobi.
Dan took our LandCruiser to pick up Joshua, Justina & Co. When we left, he was at a garage—both the front and back axles cracked. Ha! Then last I heard, he was sitting on riverbank somewhere in the middle of nowhere, watching other cars that had tried to cross float by.
Seriously, isn’t Africa great? I won’t lie—I’m a little glad I opted out of being his co-driver this go-around. ;)
Dan took our LandCruiser to pick up Joshua, Justina & Co. When we left, he was at a garage—both the front and back axles cracked. Ha! Then last I heard, he was sitting on riverbank somewhere in the middle of nowhere, watching other cars that had tried to cross float by.
Seriously, isn’t Africa great? I won’t lie—I’m a little glad I opted out of being his co-driver this go-around. ;)
Merry-Happy Christmas-Birthday-Easter-Valentine’s Day!
Yesterday was such a sweet day, because we rustled up some of our post in Loki just before the plane left. We’d spent the last day getting the weights just perfect—kilo by kilo—so we could load up the bush plane and land it safely on our grass airstrip. Then we made a last-ditch effort to get mail there on the tarmac, just before the flight. I was ready to swap out even the most essential groceries when I saw the heap of packages our teammates. Folks here would much rather get a letter from home than eat for the next four weeks. (You think I’m kidding…)
We got home and celebrated—in opening various packages—Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter and three birthdays. Kim, Pattie and I listened to the CD Kimmie’s mom sent—one of her family singing Christmas songs quite terribly—and ate homemade cookies… sent in November, nearly eight months ago. Probably one of the brightest dark spots of my bush experience.
I got my birthday package! Happy Birthday, me! Mind you, my birthday was in February. Mom sent the box in January. Iris said it was the best birthday package she’d ever seen. I agreed. I’ve set up a rationing system, so it’s not all gone in a couple weeks. :)
Anyway, thank you to anyone who ever has or ever will send a missionary a letter or a postcard or any little thing from the great USA. You have no idea how much of a blessing even a few words from home are!
We got home and celebrated—in opening various packages—Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter and three birthdays. Kim, Pattie and I listened to the CD Kimmie’s mom sent—one of her family singing Christmas songs quite terribly—and ate homemade cookies… sent in November, nearly eight months ago. Probably one of the brightest dark spots of my bush experience.
I got my birthday package! Happy Birthday, me! Mind you, my birthday was in February. Mom sent the box in January. Iris said it was the best birthday package she’d ever seen. I agreed. I’ve set up a rationing system, so it’s not all gone in a couple weeks. :)
Anyway, thank you to anyone who ever has or ever will send a missionary a letter or a postcard or any little thing from the great USA. You have no idea how much of a blessing even a few words from home are!
Sweethearts in Lopitland
(Bet that title made you think I had a Lopit boyfriend, eh? Not quite.)
I was sitting in my room the other day when I heard Pattie rush outside and start quizzing the teenage boys about the things they were saying. I went outside to see what the deal was, and she explained to me that she’d heard them saying things like, “I love you!” and couldn’t believe it. (They don’t have that same concept of love here, let alone say it.)
I had to laugh. Just a moment before, I shared some conversation Sweetheart things—you know, the little Valentine’s Day hearts with funny messages written on them?—with them. They were just practicing their English. Poor Pattie got all excited.
Earlier, I’d handed Oseta one and he scowled and gave it back to me, saying, “This one is hito-ongoruo (woman)!” It said, “Go girl!” Apparently, he didn’t think that one was fit for a young man to eat…
Gosh, my stories are so lame…
I was sitting in my room the other day when I heard Pattie rush outside and start quizzing the teenage boys about the things they were saying. I went outside to see what the deal was, and she explained to me that she’d heard them saying things like, “I love you!” and couldn’t believe it. (They don’t have that same concept of love here, let alone say it.)
I had to laugh. Just a moment before, I shared some conversation Sweetheart things—you know, the little Valentine’s Day hearts with funny messages written on them?—with them. They were just practicing their English. Poor Pattie got all excited.
Earlier, I’d handed Oseta one and he scowled and gave it back to me, saying, “This one is hito-ongoruo (woman)!” It said, “Go girl!” Apparently, he didn’t think that one was fit for a young man to eat…
Gosh, my stories are so lame…
Bicycle Built for…
I think in my daydreams of old—especially in my pre-Christian days—I always figured I’d have kids by the time I was 24 and would eventually be teaching them great things like riding a bike and playing catch. (Baseball training will begin at birth, naturally.)
But God has different plans, so the first kids I got to teach how to ride a bike were a handful of rambunctious 12 year olds in the middle-of-nowhere, Sudan. The boys have been basically begging me to teach them, so I finally broke down the other day and took Babiano (of split-open-head fame), Odume and Otaban down to the valley to let them give it a go. The whole way down I just prayed that God would please, please, please spare my bike. I mean, it’s His and all, and I know that. But there’s a reason you don’t teach kids to ride on precious TREK mountain bikes, you know?
Anyway, it took a while to get them going, but finally I got to have that precious moment of letting go of Odume and watching him wobble off happily, then topple off awkwardly but with a ginorous grin that I wouldn’t have traded for twelve precious TREK mountain bikes. Seeing them so happy made it one of my best days here in Lopit. I really, really am enjoying these boys and my neighbors.
I find I keep telling people about the latest “one of the best days I’ve had here in Lopit.” Praise God for giving me so much joy in the relationships I’ve made here! Just yesterday I was walking down the road in Loki, with a lot on my mind, just sort of stepping back and watching life there, and I thought to myself, “This is better than ___.” I could put just about anything in there. And that’s definitely God’s doing.
But God has different plans, so the first kids I got to teach how to ride a bike were a handful of rambunctious 12 year olds in the middle-of-nowhere, Sudan. The boys have been basically begging me to teach them, so I finally broke down the other day and took Babiano (of split-open-head fame), Odume and Otaban down to the valley to let them give it a go. The whole way down I just prayed that God would please, please, please spare my bike. I mean, it’s His and all, and I know that. But there’s a reason you don’t teach kids to ride on precious TREK mountain bikes, you know?
Anyway, it took a while to get them going, but finally I got to have that precious moment of letting go of Odume and watching him wobble off happily, then topple off awkwardly but with a ginorous grin that I wouldn’t have traded for twelve precious TREK mountain bikes. Seeing them so happy made it one of my best days here in Lopit. I really, really am enjoying these boys and my neighbors.
I find I keep telling people about the latest “one of the best days I’ve had here in Lopit.” Praise God for giving me so much joy in the relationships I’ve made here! Just yesterday I was walking down the road in Loki, with a lot on my mind, just sort of stepping back and watching life there, and I thought to myself, “This is better than ___.” I could put just about anything in there. And that’s definitely God’s doing.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Pictures from Paradise…
Well, gang, I figured I should use my internet opportunity wisely and send you pictures while it’s not costing me $3 a pop. So, here’s some pictures from the last couple months or so. I realized I haven’t been taking so many lately, so I’ll get on that. I hope you enjoy!
Praying on the Mountain
A while back, I told you about Mark’s crazy idea to go atop one of the mountains and pray for rain. Well, here’s a couple pictures to show you just what that looked like. There’s Kimmie with Mark himself and our friends. Those are the Three Sisters in the backround—the trademark mountains of Lopitland. Some say the people actually worship them. I dunno. That big one on the right is the Father. I want to say that’s Oudo—the one Kimmie is named after.
Notice how high we are. I carried Thomaso up that thing. In my church clothes. Yes, I suppose I deserve some sort of medal…
Notice how high we are. I carried Thomaso up that thing. In my church clothes. Yes, I suppose I deserve some sort of medal…
Here’s our little church gathering. That’s Pastor Saba on the left, preachin’ it up. Or maybe he was translating for Kareem, on the right. Whatever the case, it was a cool service. Another interesting fact—Idiongo (bottom right) shopped Shoe Carnival and LIVED! (He wears that every week to church and it never seems to get less curious to me.)
Pattie and the Termites
Pattie has had her fair share of battles with the bugs. Termites came in and chewed up her closet-esque thing. Here she is, taking it to it with a hammer. One of the two—Pattie and the closet—didn’t make it out alive.
Lighting the Stove
Once again raising the question… how many people does it take to light a geko oven? Well, in this case, five, it seems. That’s Maria (Davitica’s niece; cousin to baby Pattie), Cassia (Davitica’s second youngest), a mystery child (forgive me?) and Night, Mary’s girl and a constant help to us.
I’ve since given up on lighting the geko from scratch—it really is a pain—and taken to one of two alternatives.
Sometimes I simply take my tongs and hold a piece of coal over my gas stovetop until it’s lit, then I use it to light everything else. Yes, I just admitted that. I’m somewhat ashamed, but somehow very proud of my brilliance.
Then there’s the better option. I noticed that folks ‘round here often send their kids to other huts to grab a piece of hot firewood or coal; then they light their own fires with it. Perhaps equally brilliant to my over-the-stovetop idea. (… Perhaps…) So now I just run up to Lodina’s with my oven mitt and pan lid. They laugh at my “clothes for my hands”—they just carry the stuff on a flat rock or lid. They have the amazing ability to touch and carry ridiculously hot pans and stuff. (As in, they pick up a pot of boiling water with zero problem… and wonder why we can’t.) 
I’ve since given up on lighting the geko from scratch—it really is a pain—and taken to one of two alternatives.
Sometimes I simply take my tongs and hold a piece of coal over my gas stovetop until it’s lit, then I use it to light everything else. Yes, I just admitted that. I’m somewhat ashamed, but somehow very proud of my brilliance.
Then there’s the better option. I noticed that folks ‘round here often send their kids to other huts to grab a piece of hot firewood or coal; then they light their own fires with it. Perhaps equally brilliant to my over-the-stovetop idea. (… Perhaps…) So now I just run up to Lodina’s with my oven mitt and pan lid. They laugh at my “clothes for my hands”—they just carry the stuff on a flat rock or lid. They have the amazing ability to touch and carry ridiculously hot pans and stuff. (As in, they pick up a pot of boiling water with zero problem… and wonder why we can’t.)
Breaking In
Once, Kim and I both forgot our keys to the bicycle lock that keeps our gate closed. (Sometimes we lock it when we have laundry on the line; we’ve had bras stolen before—they like to dance in them!) We were too ashamed to tell Pattie, so simply squeezed through a hole in the fence. Pattie thought it was a bit curious that the door was still locked when she came home… and we were giggling in the front yard. 
Pattie and Pattie
Pattie and her namesake. She’s actually quite cute. (I’ll let you decide if I mean Big Pattie or Baby Pattie… or both.)
The Great Coal Fridge Fiasco
This cool veteran missionary suggested to Kimmie that we make a coal… thing… so we could keep things cool. Apparently, this coal fridge thing has worked for people in the past.
Well, after a whole day of struggling and cutting wood with her LeatherMan and numerous defeats, Kim decided the coal fridge was definitely not going to work for her.
She launched the ugly, awkward thing over the fence, even though Oseta (in the backround there) begged her not to.
Launching things over the fence has become Kim’s go-to move in the face of frustration.
It’s actually quite funny. The other day she broke the broom stick and ceremoniously heaved it over the fence. One of the boys watched this with a smile, then—upon Kim’s return into the house—calmly went and retrieved it for her.
We’re starting to be known for our quirks—and know the quirks of our neighbors. :) It’s great.
Oh, and again, that’s Oseta, of chicken-killing fame. I’d say this is the day he really became one of our favorites—he’s been our loyal helper and friend ever since. 
Well, after a whole day of struggling and cutting wood with her LeatherMan and numerous defeats, Kim decided the coal fridge was definitely not going to work for her.
She launched the ugly, awkward thing over the fence, even though Oseta (in the backround there) begged her not to.
Launching things over the fence has become Kim’s go-to move in the face of frustration.
It’s actually quite funny. The other day she broke the broom stick and ceremoniously heaved it over the fence. One of the boys watched this with a smile, then—upon Kim’s return into the house—calmly went and retrieved it for her.
We’re starting to be known for our quirks—and know the quirks of our neighbors. :) It’s great.
Oh, and again, that’s Oseta, of chicken-killing fame. I’d say this is the day he really became one of our favorites—he’s been our loyal helper and friend ever since.
Sweet Ellen
Just a few more adorable pictures of Miss Ellen. Honestly, how cute is this little girl? I think she’ll be walking in the next week!
Cath and the Easter Play
Just a little scene from the Easter Play. If you remember, Cath (in blue) and Martin and others worked really hard to make a play that was contextualized to the culture. It was really neat. That’s Kim in the back there, also known as Mary, mother of Jesus/Craig.
Just another morning…
If you don’t know these two faces by now, you probably haven’t read my blog before. This is Franco (left) and his brother Francis. They are, still and always, some of our favorite little boys.
This particular morning, I looked outside my window when I woke up to see the two of them crouching on our rocks, naked and waiting for us to wake up. They normally come in the morning to say hello and see if they can sweep our compound for us or play.
They actually were quite naughty the other week—they came in the house while Pattie was napping/reading and took the playing cards and some peanuts without asking. Oh, the drama! We had to ban them from the compound for a week. It was one of those “This hurts me as much as it hurts you” situations.
But, that’s gone and forgotten and they’re back now, and better than even.
Kim and I started a project while Pattie was in Nairobi—a retaining wall in the back of the house to keep our kitchen and Pattie’s room from flooding, and giving us a nice place to sit and greet people. It’s right on the main path to the village, so we can sit and say hello to everyone as they go by and see what everyone in the village is up to. (We have adapted to Lopit culture in that way, haha.)
Francis has been as gungho about the project as Kimmie was—every day before I came to Loki ,he was there, bringing rocks or moving dirt or some special thing*. He’d show up in the morning at my window, asking if he could help. Hehe. The first day, he got a hold of my sandals and put them on, then stood there for an hour, trying to maneuver a shovel that was as big as he was. It really was adorable. I took a picture, but it’s still in Lopit—I’ll put it up when I can.
Oh, good ol’ Francis… I love that kid.
This particular morning, I looked outside my window when I woke up to see the two of them crouching on our rocks, naked and waiting for us to wake up. They normally come in the morning to say hello and see if they can sweep our compound for us or play.
They actually were quite naughty the other week—they came in the house while Pattie was napping/reading and took the playing cards and some peanuts without asking. Oh, the drama! We had to ban them from the compound for a week. It was one of those “This hurts me as much as it hurts you” situations.
But, that’s gone and forgotten and they’re back now, and better than even.
Kim and I started a project while Pattie was in Nairobi—a retaining wall in the back of the house to keep our kitchen and Pattie’s room from flooding, and giving us a nice place to sit and greet people. It’s right on the main path to the village, so we can sit and say hello to everyone as they go by and see what everyone in the village is up to. (We have adapted to Lopit culture in that way, haha.)
Francis has been as gungho about the project as Kimmie was—every day before I came to Loki ,he was there, bringing rocks or moving dirt or some special thing*. He’d show up in the morning at my window, asking if he could help. Hehe. The first day, he got a hold of my sandals and put them on, then stood there for an hour, trying to maneuver a shovel that was as big as he was. It really was adorable. I took a picture, but it’s still in Lopit—I’ll put it up when I can.
Oh, good ol’ Francis… I love that kid.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Fowl Play
You’re probably getting by now that meat is sort of a big deal ‘round these parts. So it wouldn’t be beyond your imagination that we, as we drive out of Sudan, often encourage Daniel to try to hit one of the guinea fowl that sometimes saunter across the road.
Well, I’m here to tell you that sometimes dreams do come true.
Dan nailed one yesterday.
I heard the murmuring from the front seat as he and Jen were clearly conspiring against the poor animal and aiming the LandCruiser.
Then the telling thud as he clocked it clean in the head with the underside of the car.
And the triumphant acclamations as the rearview mirrors confirmed that, yes, Daniel had in fact successfully killed tonight’s dinner.
Next thing I know, we’re in full reverse, heading back for the kill. Then Daniel’s sort of looking perplexed at the poor thing—turns out the hit wasn’t as clean as first thought. Then the optimistic brandishing of the knife. Then some indecision.
Then we realize we have nothing to put the thing in anyway, and to seal the deal, a truckload of Sudanese and Kenyans rolls up and starts laughing at us, asking why we killed their animal. And so a friendship was struck as we handed over the bird and headed on our way… smirk with our success and somehow comforted that we were heading out—to Kenya, where if you look hard enough, you can find meat—and not back in, to the land of protein deficiencies.
Oh, and we saw this ginormous bird later. I’m talking three dinners’ worth of food here, people. We really wanted that bird. Then Jen—in this case, the voice of reason—suggested that it would really be a terrible thing if said bird was on the endangered species list…
Well, I’m here to tell you that sometimes dreams do come true.
Dan nailed one yesterday.
I heard the murmuring from the front seat as he and Jen were clearly conspiring against the poor animal and aiming the LandCruiser.
Then the telling thud as he clocked it clean in the head with the underside of the car.
And the triumphant acclamations as the rearview mirrors confirmed that, yes, Daniel had in fact successfully killed tonight’s dinner.
Next thing I know, we’re in full reverse, heading back for the kill. Then Daniel’s sort of looking perplexed at the poor thing—turns out the hit wasn’t as clean as first thought. Then the optimistic brandishing of the knife. Then some indecision.
Then we realize we have nothing to put the thing in anyway, and to seal the deal, a truckload of Sudanese and Kenyans rolls up and starts laughing at us, asking why we killed their animal. And so a friendship was struck as we handed over the bird and headed on our way… smirk with our success and somehow comforted that we were heading out—to Kenya, where if you look hard enough, you can find meat—and not back in, to the land of protein deficiencies.
Oh, and we saw this ginormous bird later. I’m talking three dinners’ worth of food here, people. We really wanted that bird. Then Jen—in this case, the voice of reason—suggested that it would really be a terrible thing if said bird was on the endangered species list…
Chicken Tonight
Sometimes, all you want out here is some meat.
One of those times was the other day. Kimmie and I set out to the village in search of a delicious chicken. This isn’t our first meat breakdown; it happens every so often. We always spend at least a day asking anyone and everyone if we could please, please, please just buy a chicken from them. Normally everyone tells us, “Absolutely!” but then never come with the chicken.
But Sunday—a glorious, glorious day—was different.
Somehow, Mary’s father was happy to relinquish one of his flock.
I helped the boys chase the silly thing all around the village. Seriously, it was hilarious. I nearly took out my eye on a bamboo pole sticking out of a thatched roof.
That thing did not want to become dinner.
But, low and behold, Oseta finally snatched it up. (Interesting note: Oseta is one of our favorite P7 kids. His name means “vomit.” And I guess here, that’s OK.) I carried the thing home—by its legs—triumphantly and was still searching for a sharp knife when the boys called and said Oseta had already taken care of it.
It’s a good thing, too. Kim says when you slaughter a chicken, you cross some imaginary threshold which you can never come back across. You’re just… different. And we both have this irrational fear that if we become too independent, God will decide we don’t need husbands and pass us by… So, a double thank you to Oseta.
Anyway, Susanna came and helped me pluck and gut the thing. It was an all-around not terrible experience.
And we were two very happy women at dinner that night. :)
One of those times was the other day. Kimmie and I set out to the village in search of a delicious chicken. This isn’t our first meat breakdown; it happens every so often. We always spend at least a day asking anyone and everyone if we could please, please, please just buy a chicken from them. Normally everyone tells us, “Absolutely!” but then never come with the chicken.
But Sunday—a glorious, glorious day—was different.
Somehow, Mary’s father was happy to relinquish one of his flock.
I helped the boys chase the silly thing all around the village. Seriously, it was hilarious. I nearly took out my eye on a bamboo pole sticking out of a thatched roof.
That thing did not want to become dinner.
But, low and behold, Oseta finally snatched it up. (Interesting note: Oseta is one of our favorite P7 kids. His name means “vomit.” And I guess here, that’s OK.) I carried the thing home—by its legs—triumphantly and was still searching for a sharp knife when the boys called and said Oseta had already taken care of it.
It’s a good thing, too. Kim says when you slaughter a chicken, you cross some imaginary threshold which you can never come back across. You’re just… different. And we both have this irrational fear that if we become too independent, God will decide we don’t need husbands and pass us by… So, a double thank you to Oseta.
Anyway, Susanna came and helped me pluck and gut the thing. It was an all-around not terrible experience.
And we were two very happy women at dinner that night. :)
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
It’s been a while…
Oh, gracious, it’s been a while since I’ve written, hey? Sorry about that. I’ve had about a million things to write about, too.
Let’s see. What’s new in Lopitland?
Well, I’ve been learning a lot of culture stuff lately. No, wait. It’s more like I’ve found myself more and more confused by cultural stuff lately. But, whatever the case—I’m hopeful things will become more and more clear as time goes on and as we learn more language.
Ministry is same ol’, same ol’—still hard, still overwhelming. But God’s still keeping me through it, so that’s good.
The preschool is still just a building without a door. Dan’s still working on the door—in between the other thousand projects he has—and the curriculum is still…. Somewhere? It was supposed to come from U a week or two ago. As I see how the church is already running in a million different directions with the primary and adult classes, I wonder how the preschool is going to work out. But it’s something the community and the church has told me—and continues to tell me—they want, so I’ll keep pressing on. Pray for Lopit workers and teachers and support.
We’ve been going to the gardens a lot lately—another way to spend time with our friends. I’m not at all convinced they appreciate us being there!
There’s been a little excitement around here, with some folks coming in and raiding goats. It was actually nice, though, to see our brave Manyumiji (this, I think, is how I’m going to spell it from now on) gearing up for battle. There was no battle, but seeing how they rise to the occasion certainly makes it easier not to harbor bitterness for their apparent laziness.
My bike has been sidelined for a while. The tubes are like pincushions, and the anti-puncture slime I brought from the States is completely gone. Which pretty much means every other ride ends in a frustrating flat. Boo to that. I’m praying to somehow get supplies soon—I was really enjoying meeting the new people and even got a letter from Asia the other day.
Oh, and I was listening to my John Piper sermons the other morning and had a bit of an epiphany. I realized there was no reason I couldn’t start recording Pastor’s sermons now—just like Desiring God record’s Pipers—and clean them up on my audio editing program, so in the future when DIGUNA does get a radio station up here, we’ll have material for it, straight away. he was jazzed about it, too, so that’s cool. (A lot of the men around here have these wind-up radios that the UN or somebody distributed. They wear them around their necks as status symbols and often have them blaring a station in a language they don’t understand.)
Well, that’s a general overview, I guess. I’ll try to keep up on these from now on…
Let’s see. What’s new in Lopitland?
Well, I’ve been learning a lot of culture stuff lately. No, wait. It’s more like I’ve found myself more and more confused by cultural stuff lately. But, whatever the case—I’m hopeful things will become more and more clear as time goes on and as we learn more language.
Ministry is same ol’, same ol’—still hard, still overwhelming. But God’s still keeping me through it, so that’s good.
The preschool is still just a building without a door. Dan’s still working on the door—in between the other thousand projects he has—and the curriculum is still…. Somewhere? It was supposed to come from U a week or two ago. As I see how the church is already running in a million different directions with the primary and adult classes, I wonder how the preschool is going to work out. But it’s something the community and the church has told me—and continues to tell me—they want, so I’ll keep pressing on. Pray for Lopit workers and teachers and support.
We’ve been going to the gardens a lot lately—another way to spend time with our friends. I’m not at all convinced they appreciate us being there!
There’s been a little excitement around here, with some folks coming in and raiding goats. It was actually nice, though, to see our brave Manyumiji (this, I think, is how I’m going to spell it from now on) gearing up for battle. There was no battle, but seeing how they rise to the occasion certainly makes it easier not to harbor bitterness for their apparent laziness.
My bike has been sidelined for a while. The tubes are like pincushions, and the anti-puncture slime I brought from the States is completely gone. Which pretty much means every other ride ends in a frustrating flat. Boo to that. I’m praying to somehow get supplies soon—I was really enjoying meeting the new people and even got a letter from Asia the other day.
Oh, and I was listening to my John Piper sermons the other morning and had a bit of an epiphany. I realized there was no reason I couldn’t start recording Pastor’s sermons now—just like Desiring God record’s Pipers—and clean them up on my audio editing program, so in the future when DIGUNA does get a radio station up here, we’ll have material for it, straight away. he was jazzed about it, too, so that’s cool. (A lot of the men around here have these wind-up radios that the UN or somebody distributed. They wear them around their necks as status symbols and often have them blaring a station in a language they don’t understand.)
Well, that’s a general overview, I guess. I’ll try to keep up on these from now on…
I’m No Green Thumb
Kim and I would be the first ones to tell you, we really don’t like going to the gardens.
It’s pretty miserable. So far, we’ve either been waist-deep in a slew of green—they don’t plant in rows—trying to decipher the good stuff from the weeds. Or we’ve been on our hands and knees, pulling up the clumps of sod the Manyumiji hoed up, shaking out the grass and weeds by the roots and throwing it into a big heap.
The other day, I walked—barefoot, with mud to my ankles, slipping all over the place—for an hour and a half, just to get to Adwina’s field. Then we worked for seven hours—knees planted in that same mud, pulling up stuff—before walking the hour and a half home.
We laugh, because I really don’t think the ladies appreciate our coming and working with them so much. Yes, our TIMO hearts want to work next to them. But I’m afraid we’re a bit of a pain—we’ve been known to accidently weed out good plants and have other traits that don’t exactly make us super gardeners. Hehehe. They often tell us to just sit under the tree and rest—they don’t want us to get tired or dirty.
Ever get the feeling someone is just trying to get rid of you? ;)
We actually joke that we’ll find whoever it was that was especially not nice to us the previous days, then punish them by going to their field with them. I can imagine their pity for us, as we show up with our bookbags full of water and sunscreen. :)
Farming in Lopitland is nothing like farming in America. There’s no plows—not even oxen plows. There’s no rakes, just hands. The men have these long, long poles with a flat iron piece at the end—their version of a plow. So they all get together scrape at the ground, in rhythm. Then we go behind and pick up what they left behind.
More than once (and probably upon seeing our utter incompetence), they’ve asked us if people weed in America. The specialization system is foreign to them—they don’t have it. I’ve tried to explain that, no, I don’t weed, but some people do. Some people work in the field, some people work with books, some people work in an office. They work in different ways.
Glazed over looks.
So I don’t have a field? No.
And my father doesn’t have a field? No.
Pause.
Lu-lu-lu, shaking their head.
Anyway, despite all that, it’s still been nice in some ways. Adwina & Co. asked me to pray to my God so he wouldn’t bring the storm that was coming at us from all directions—we were so far from home, with babies and the wind was getting cold. So, I did pray. Hardly a drop fell—crazy. And I did get to witness a great garden moment. There was a fury of excitement (I thought at first they were going to kill another puff-ader) and then the boys pulled up with the kill—three field rats, for our dining pleasure. Threw ‘em straight in the fire and ate ‘em right then and there. The kids got the tails and feet Adwina broke off. YUM!
It’s pretty miserable. So far, we’ve either been waist-deep in a slew of green—they don’t plant in rows—trying to decipher the good stuff from the weeds. Or we’ve been on our hands and knees, pulling up the clumps of sod the Manyumiji hoed up, shaking out the grass and weeds by the roots and throwing it into a big heap.
The other day, I walked—barefoot, with mud to my ankles, slipping all over the place—for an hour and a half, just to get to Adwina’s field. Then we worked for seven hours—knees planted in that same mud, pulling up stuff—before walking the hour and a half home.
We laugh, because I really don’t think the ladies appreciate our coming and working with them so much. Yes, our TIMO hearts want to work next to them. But I’m afraid we’re a bit of a pain—we’ve been known to accidently weed out good plants and have other traits that don’t exactly make us super gardeners. Hehehe. They often tell us to just sit under the tree and rest—they don’t want us to get tired or dirty.
Ever get the feeling someone is just trying to get rid of you? ;)
We actually joke that we’ll find whoever it was that was especially not nice to us the previous days, then punish them by going to their field with them. I can imagine their pity for us, as we show up with our bookbags full of water and sunscreen. :)
Farming in Lopitland is nothing like farming in America. There’s no plows—not even oxen plows. There’s no rakes, just hands. The men have these long, long poles with a flat iron piece at the end—their version of a plow. So they all get together scrape at the ground, in rhythm. Then we go behind and pick up what they left behind.
More than once (and probably upon seeing our utter incompetence), they’ve asked us if people weed in America. The specialization system is foreign to them—they don’t have it. I’ve tried to explain that, no, I don’t weed, but some people do. Some people work in the field, some people work with books, some people work in an office. They work in different ways.
Glazed over looks.
So I don’t have a field? No.
And my father doesn’t have a field? No.
Pause.
Lu-lu-lu, shaking their head.
Anyway, despite all that, it’s still been nice in some ways. Adwina & Co. asked me to pray to my God so he wouldn’t bring the storm that was coming at us from all directions—we were so far from home, with babies and the wind was getting cold. So, I did pray. Hardly a drop fell—crazy. And I did get to witness a great garden moment. There was a fury of excitement (I thought at first they were going to kill another puff-ader) and then the boys pulled up with the kill—three field rats, for our dining pleasure. Threw ‘em straight in the fire and ate ‘em right then and there. The kids got the tails and feet Adwina broke off. YUM!
Welcome home!
Heinrich and Doris are back. That’s big news. They brought new baby Philip, who’s just adorable. Salome is all grown up and lots more outgoing than when she left. It was amazing to see how easily she slipped back into life here. Kimmie said that first night they were home, little Salome had already found her way to a Lopit woman’s lap.
Philip had a Lopit name even before the LandCruiser hit Steve’s compound, so that’s great for the little guy. They all say how chubby he is and how great that is. He’s got red hair, just like his mom and sister; I’m sure that’s an added attraction.
We’re really, really happy to have them back. They’re a super great couple and add so much to our team—with their talents, their ministry and just with their marriage. They make me laugh and just add some invisible thing that makes our team stronger. (Gosh, I’m really going on about them, aren’t I?) And it’s nice to know they’re in it for the long haul—they have a vision and a heart for this place that extends well after TIMO.
Which logically leads me to say that they’re happy to be back, too. Heinrich was just giddy to see people and get back home. He was like a kid at Christmas, ha. I think he’s really going to kick things up with getting stuff translated and all that. He, Doris, Kimmie and I are meeting tonight about translation stuff.
It won’t be long until Joshua, Justina & Co. are back, too. Wow, to have our entire team back in the game! I can’t wait. And we get to meet our other new member—baby Joy. Be praying for their safe travel and for an easy adjustment back into Lopitland.
Philip had a Lopit name even before the LandCruiser hit Steve’s compound, so that’s great for the little guy. They all say how chubby he is and how great that is. He’s got red hair, just like his mom and sister; I’m sure that’s an added attraction.
We’re really, really happy to have them back. They’re a super great couple and add so much to our team—with their talents, their ministry and just with their marriage. They make me laugh and just add some invisible thing that makes our team stronger. (Gosh, I’m really going on about them, aren’t I?) And it’s nice to know they’re in it for the long haul—they have a vision and a heart for this place that extends well after TIMO.
Which logically leads me to say that they’re happy to be back, too. Heinrich was just giddy to see people and get back home. He was like a kid at Christmas, ha. I think he’s really going to kick things up with getting stuff translated and all that. He, Doris, Kimmie and I are meeting tonight about translation stuff.
It won’t be long until Joshua, Justina & Co. are back, too. Wow, to have our entire team back in the game! I can’t wait. And we get to meet our other new member—baby Joy. Be praying for their safe travel and for an easy adjustment back into Lopitland.
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