Lopitland meets Hollywood…

Hey gang, I finally got that video finished and kicked back Stateside. Hooray!
My dear friend Rev. Mark, who represents (and comprises) the USA branch of this adventure, has so graciously offered his services to copy and send out this little production.
(You folks at OUC or Faith—when you see him, hug him. He does a lot for me!)
Anyway, if you’d like a closer look at our work out here, my team and what TIMO is all about, drop Mark a line and he’ll send you a copy.
Here’s his email: markalexander17@yahoo.com
Make sure you let him know your name and address. And, if you’re from Faith or OUC, make a note of that; he’ll save on postage and give them to the church.
I hope you’re blessed by the video, and can better know how to pray for us from it!
Cheers!

What is the What.

I picked up a novel about the Lost Boys while I was in Nairobi—“What is the What.”
I was having a hard enough time reading about the horrible things this character Achak saw and experienced as he first walked to Ethiopia, then back across the country to Kenya, being attacked by animals (both of the lion and Arab horseman variety), bombed by the North, used by the SPLA and worn down nearly to death or insanity. But during one of my breaks—I made a habit or putting down the book and resting now and then, lest I be overwhelmed by it—I happened upon the title page, where I saw under the title, “An Autobiography by Achak Valentino…”
I can’t begin to tell you how this affected me. There’s quite a difference between a NOVEL—like the front cover said—and an AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Before, the character was just that—a character. He was fictional, likely many boys’ experiences distilled down into one storyline.
But then—“autobiography.” Suddenly, Achak wasn’t just the story of many faceless boys. The suffering had a face. It could be pinned down, put in a specific time and place, given a name. This was actually someone’s life.
It made me sick, to read about this boy’s life and to know it was very real, and being forced to confront the fact that his life was the same life thousands of other boys lived, and are still living today.
Imagine, not knowing anything but war. Or being born and raised in Kakuma, a refugee camp in the desert of Kenya.
Hmmph.
Anyway, it’s a good book. If you’re into that kind of thing, you should give it a read.

New guy on the block…

We came back to find out we’ve had one added to our ranks.
This fella Toby came out to help for a few weeks, but apparently has decided to stay indefinitely. Or something.
Anyway, I guess it’s cool because he’ll be helping do some of the practical work. And there’s a place for him to stay in the boys’ house now, since Daniel is gone. I guess all the village folk mistake him for Daniel, and he acts/looks very much like him. So maybe it’s like we didn’t lose anyone at all, after all.
Or maybe not. The guy he came with told me he was “The New Daniel.” Which I guess might be funny to him, but sort of made me want to punch him. (See previous bit about how losing a team member is like losing your nose or some other essential body part.)
It’s a little painful, knowing that this guy gets to live among the LoPeeps and the TIMO team, but doesn’t have the responsibilities of TIMO and just does practical stuff, because that’s exactly what Daniel wanted to do, but was told he couldn’t do here.
So, perhaps a bit bittersweet, but good nonetheless.
And, who knows, maybe, come Christmas, he’ll fill in as the Weihnachtsmann, too.
Karibu, Toby!

Home!

A week’s lesson in patience, two uneventful flights and slightly annoying (but very short) stop in Loki* later, we’re finally back home in Lopitland.
(*I’m sorry, I really hate Loki. To me, Loki is where malaria is born. And where dust lives. And the breeding ground of a whole host of other evils. I, um, might not be giving Loki a fair shake. Forgive me.)
Flying over so much nothingness makes you realize how we really are in the middle of nowhere. Then our pilot buzzed around the horseshoe of our mountain range; Kim and I had our noses pressed to the windows. It’s so cool, to see our little villages from the air—outlines of the compounds, the haphazard lines of the peanut fields, the funny cone roofs.
We carried entirely too much up the mountain, but were rewarded when we got home—Pattie had made us special lemonade and put seats under our tired bodies. She even had the whole inside of the house poohed while we were gone! In a word—amazing.
Our neighbors were excited to have us home, too. It just made my heart happy to shake their hands and smile with them. I really enjoy being home.
In a related story, it’s officially Christmas season in Lopit. I put up the lights just as soon as my tired body would let me. Then, unfortunately, I proceeded to fall backward off the stool I was hanging them from. My first thought was, “Oh, please, Lord, tell me I didn’t break anything. Steve would absolutely kill me. And I’m in no mood to wait for another flight.”
But, no worries. I’m OK. :)

Un-stuck.

Tomorrow, we get un-stuck. That is, we get to leave Nairobi. Praise the Lord.

I took down a lot of my Nairobi posts. I figured anyone short of a stalker wouldn't want to read all about our crazy city adventures and misadventures.

My apologies to all the stalkers out there.

Update from Pattie...

I got an email from Pattie the other day.

Seeing that thing in my inbox did terrible things to my stomach. I was so afraid she was going to tell me about one of our friends dying or something.

Praise God, she didn’t.

Let me glean from her two emails here, to give you an update.

To go back, it looks like the monyemiji came down and begged Steve to get the meds sent out a bit ago, because so many kids were dying. That’s a pretty big move. Good on you, monyemiji folk.

Franco was sick, but Pattie started treating him with the new medicine and he looks like he’ll be fine. Paula even carried him most of the way down to church Sunday, Pattie says, because they asked him and he said he wanted to go. She said it’s been so wonderful to see how Abuba is taking to heart our lessons on the importance and method of getting a fever down. I think maybe when our neighbors saw Pattie and Kim soaking me down with our precious little water when I was sick, that did something in their minds. Pattie says Abuba even helped her explain to other people why it was important and how to do it. I think Pattie was really encouraged.

One of our friend’s kids, Monday, was really sick. (There’s a picture of Monday somewhere on here.) I’m not even sure how to explain this story, because even Pattie was having a hard time telling it. Here’s the thing: Sometimes, the Lopit declare someone dead before they’re actually dead. Which leads to confusion, when people are… resurrected. They, umm… come back to life. Anyway, this seems to be the case with Monday. Pattie woke up to the women wailing in mourning and telling her Monday died, but then Monday was really just sick. And now she’s in the clinic, and it sounds like she’s getting better.

Pattie said she was “mad enough to spit nails” (I think that means really mad) when she heard from our neighbor that, though they just got a whole slew of meds on that plane HK sent up, the clinic had sent her away, saying there was no more medicine. Not yet sure if that’s really the case—people have a habit of saying that when they’re lying about having been to the clinic. We’ll see what good ol’ Pattie says in her next email.

I miss Pattie. :(

Boxing for Breakfast

The other day I enjoyed a really great breakfast with Adele, a missionary/ photojournalist I met last time we were in Kenya.

She chatted with us a bit under the glow of our Christmas lights on “Christmas Day” and invited me out to this beautiful place in Karen for a Boxing Day treat.

It was nice, just sitting there, enjoying coffee and good food, and each other. We talked about a lot of things—the supporter stress, how we’ve been challenged in our walks, war (did you know there is a war on in Congo right now? I didn’t), being a single missionary in Africa, etc.

I remember sitting back for a moment and thinking, “Oh, wow, I’m really relaxing.” That was a good moment.

It was nice to understand and be understood. That is so rare here.

And it was nice to be challenged, as well—just hearing about how she is studying the Word, how she’s trusting God to teach her “new” things from “old” texts, how she’s being deliberate about living what she’s learning… that spurred me on.

Anyway, our morning out at this lovely café stands out in my mind—sort of a calm in the middle of the Nairobi storm, a real blessing.

Yuletide craziness...

So, today was our Christmas. We did our best to wish as many people as possible a merry Christmas. Some--yea even most--were confused by our holiday cheer and greetings, but after a lot of explaining, some caught on and humored us.



We got all dressed up and went out to eat for our "Christmas" dinner. It was excellent fun.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Let's see if this works...

In a moment of decent internet connection, I'm trying to see if posting my prayer letter on here works. Let me know if you can click on it and it's big enough to read!

Also, if you're not on my mailing list but want to be, just email me: aclinard@gmail.com.

Golly, having internet is really great...

Santa!

How great is it that on our Christmas Eve, we see Santa at Nakumatt? Apparently, even Father Christmas does his shopping last minute. (I feel he and my Dad could bond over that fact.)

Hooked…

Grasshopper and Monkey, hamming it up.




Also not unusual.

Monkey See, Monkey Do…

Here’s my sweet Monkey. (Also known as Ellen.) I love this little girl very, very much. She’s so dirty in this picture, which is usual. I think this day I found her laying out in the dirt, making what must be something close to snow angels, just minus the snow.

The Latest...

Just got a call from Heinrich.

Apparently, he's been running around today trying to get meds to Wilson Airport and on a plane. He said Steve called from LH today for an emergency shipment.

He said every household in Lopit has at least one sick child right now, and that babies and children are dying every day. The clinic is out of medicine, and the team has given all its away, too. Heinrich got some on this plane, which goes up tomorrow, from what I gather, so praise God for that.

Just really lift us up right now--especially the people on the ground and the LoPeeps!

Kmandie

Now, we still have good times. This should not go unsaid. And being in this time with only Kim has been amazing. I’m so blessed to have found a friend who I love so much, and it’s nice to be out—just the two of us—because our friendship can’t offend anyone.

It’s understandably hard for Pattie to live with us. She’s from a different generation, with a different sense of humor and, in some ways, different approach to life. (We’re more thinkers, while she’s a feeler.) We’re blessed in Lopitland, though, because God’s given us the grace to understand each other and communicate about it. And, oh yeah, we all love each other a lot. :)

So Kim and I have made a bit of a joke of ourselves here in Nairobi. There’s nothing to keep us in check, and it’s pretty clear we’re pathetically attached at the hip. So we’ve taken to making fun of it and exaggerating it. (Enter our sense of humor.) We’ve threatened to buy some cheesy friendship bracelets (circa… umm… fifth grade), and speak a lot in terms of “we,” “us” and “our.” We schedule meetings and appointments as “Kmandie… that’s two people.”

Hmm. This probably isn’t funny to anyone else. That’s often the case. Anyway…

The Nairobi Struggle

You might wonder what it is that we do in Nairobi.

Well, first off, I should say, Nairobi isn’t all relaxation. In fact, it’s quite the opposite for me. There are a lot of great things about being here, sure, but there are also crashing waves of culture shock and a lot of stress.

You see, when we step into Nairobi, there is a sudden onslaught of resources that we can only dream about in Lopitland. There is endless power. Water. Supermarkets. Cell phones. Internet. Food.

And, with all these things right at my fingertips, there is an intense drive inside me to make the most of it. There are emails to catch up on. People who want me to call. Supplies that need to be bought. Things that need to be researched online. Baths that need to be taken and somehow enjoyed.

You shop at stores that never have what you want, and you still have to struggle to understand and use African English. It takes three minutes to ask if someone has a garbage can so we can throw a scrap of paper away. (Happened three times just yesterday.) Nothing in Africa is easy—it takes a whole day to get done what you could do in an hour in the States, with more success. And you can drain your whole bank account easily.

Quite honestly, I’m just exhausted. Purely and truly and completely, exhausted. The last three months in Lopit have been the hardest so far, and I really just want to relax. But it’s hardly possible here.

Our guesthouse is full of people who want to know all about TIMO and Sudan, so you try not to sound tired or rehearsed when you tell them about it. (And I want to tell them about it!) You hear from others about the tanks lining up on the North-South border or that it’s only a matter of time until there’s war again. And you have to deal with the reality that our friends were and possibly will again be the victims of the horrible crimes against humanity that we read about in the books. The first few days we were here, Kim and I quite literally hid in our room. We’d go out during the day to get things done, but then come back and just huddle in our little hole and avoid the family-style dinners where you’re forced to make small chat with new people each night. For exhausted introverts, that’s not always so fun.

People from home want to hear from you, and you’re forced to do that at odd hours in the night for outrageous prices with delays that are just taxing on your already-stretched patience. And no one from home will ever, EVER understand what you’re going through—what life is like when your neighbors’ kids are dying or your house is a 24-hour community stage and your white skin makes you a constant actor. There is no green room, and there’s no makeup to cover up when you’re tempted into frustration or impatience or anger or discouragement, or when you’re just plain tired. People raise eyebrows when you—a missionary!—take advantage of a $7 pedicure, but can’t understand that you’ve spent the last three months walking mountain trails full of human feces and other assorted poop. Knowing that people, even your friends, are questioning your needing/taking a break can, in all honesty, make it impossible to enjoy your days away from the village, because you wonder if you should feel guilty, and you just want people to understand.

This is a huge, huge struggle for me, so please pray that we get some real rest. You’ve got to fight for it! I guess this post sounds a bit whiny, but… I’m all about telling you how it is, and this is how it is. I know very few of you will ever understand, but here’s to trying.

Merry Christmas!

I'm currently eating an apple.

You know what that means? That means I'm in Nairobi, the land of decent food.

We were given the choice to take our Christmas break now or actually at Christmas. KP and I chose now, since we want to be in the mountains for Christmas. Some of the others are out in different places; some are still hanging around LH.

Anyway, you won't get much from me for a bit. I'm spending most of my time eating.

Though, I did get a prayer letter out, so hopefully you'll get that soon.

Quick note…

We’re still getting stronger here. I think Justina has malaria now, though? It’s hard to keep track anymore.
Meanwhile, Kim has strange hives all over her body and has been itching for three days. She’s really miserable. She’s a bit sedated with antihistamines most of the time, so that’s always fun.
This spiritual attack isn’t just hitting the team. You could also pray, please, for the church people, as things just keep happening among them, too.
Pattie hasn’t been around that much, ‘cause she’s been keeping Cath company over in her village. (Jen is still gone.) Hence you’re getting a lot of Kimmie and Andi and very little Pattie.
But she’s here now, and she’s making some curry, so I’d best get on my way…

Sodas

I think sometimes God creates Lopit “words” just to amuse us.
Like when Abuba swore up and down that “veranda” and “handkerchief” (said a little like ET would say them) were Lopit words.
But just recently we discovered what might be the best of all.
The Lopit word for sodas is…. drum roll please… ooooooouuuuuuurrp.
That is, the sound of a burp.
So, quite naturally, it was way more fun to walk around asking people if anyone had soda.
:)

Affections and Wouldings…

There are times in my life when I am seized, ruled and made miserable by a heavy cloak of what can most closely be called boredom, or some variation thereof. It’s this feeling of, What am I going to do? And nothing holds its regular appeal. I can’t muster up a way to even idly entertain myself. I feel useless and stuck, and maybe a bit hopelessly so. When these moments came before I was on the field, I would often turn my mind to finally getting out here, and not feeling this way anymore. But it turns out these overwhelming moments have followed me—they must be part of the human experience. Call it restlessness, or questioning my purpose. I imagine it’s the same feeling that causes men to stray from their wives, or successful business people to one day shrug their shoulders and walk away. It’s a strange thing to infect the Christian life, which is maybe why it surprises me so much, hits me so hard.
Anyway, it’s in these moments your will is tested. No longer can emotion carry you. You’ve got to dig deeper, and every move is consciously made. Jonathan Edwards said it’s the difference between wouldings and affections. Wouldings fail, but affections are the “spring of actions.” You have to have proper affections to live the Christian life day after day—you need proper fear, hope, love, hatred, desire, joy, sorrow, gratitude, compassion and zeal. Edwards wrote, “Everyone of us who has the power of godliness in our heart will be inclined to seek the things of God. And whatever our state, this power will give us strength enough to overcome our weak inclinations so that these holy exercises will prevail over our weaknesses.”
And it’s true. I see it in my life. The Holy Spirit spurs me when I cannot will to move; He constrains me when I long to go too far. Deep in my heart are these affections, and that is the power to overcome even these moments of restless boredom, when the tyranny of time and lack of sovereignty grip so tightly.
Anyway, there is joy in this for me, though that slow and steady type that seems more like resolve. And, too, a twinge of amazement, that even before I was a Christian—and in so many people who still aren’t—God gave me the grace not to be overcome.
(This probably doesn’t make any sense, does it?)

What news?

I’m unsure of what to update everyone on.
I’m getting strong again, so I’m getting out again. I might even go for a easy ride later today or tomorrow, on account of it being overcast today. Overcast! Would you believe it, during dry season?!
Oh, it RAINED last night. We just ran our tank dry and had to clean it. There were four—count ‘em, FOUR—fuzzy, floating mouse carcasses in there, along with a splattering of lizards and some unknown masses. This time, it really turned my stomach. Seriously, we bathe in that, cook with that… DRINK that. Meh.
Anyway, we were feeling the pinch of having no water. Life just gets instantly harder. Everything is more work. But then it rained. I laid in bed and tried to hear each individual rain drop for as long as I could, and thank God for each one. Kim was just laying there, too, happy. So now we have water—probably a third of a tank. I never been in such a situation, to be so dependent on and so joyful in God’s gift of rain.
Yesterday, I dragged myself up to Abuba’s just to sit there with her and crack peanuts. I enjoy just sitting here, trying to perfect my form. I even sort of enjoy it when they endlessly make fun of me for being too slow and inept. I don’t actually enjoy eating peanuts all that much, so it always makes me laugh when Abuba gives me two fistfuls and yells at me to “Sema!” (“Eat them!”)
That’s how the Lopit talk—they don’t ask, they demand. They’re yelling, aggressive folk. That took some getting used to. But I’ve realized that the three of us have taken up a lot of that same manner in our talking. That’s part of learning the language, I guess—you can’t just learn the words, you have to learn the form and the nuance. So it’s gotten less abrasive to my ears to marshal around my friends, just as they marshal us around. (“Mary, come and greet me! Drink this! Take this! We’re going to church. Go change your clothes and come. Give me that! Where are you going?! Why?! Fine. Go!”) You may think it’s impossible to do that and do act in love. But it’s not. It works, somehow.

Team Update…

Everyone seems to be doing pretty well. That is, no one has flown out for medical reasons since… Monday. Darn near a whole week.
Salome and Philip are out of the hospital, I hear. Praise God.
We got official word that Daniel isn’t coming back. He found work that suits him better in Nairobi—work that uses his gifts and talents and is fulfilling to him. So, good for him.
It’s still sort of like getting your team’s leg cut off. But we’ll live.
We had a team-building day Saturday with Rod from TIMO HQ. You know, with a third of the team gone, haha. But it still went really well, so praise God for that.
Cath held Sunday School in the new building today. Wow, it just looked so good, all brightly colored and full of children singing songs and hearing about God. It made me happy to see. I think the kids were happy, too.
Pray for us as the weather dries up again and things get tight. Pray for all our ministries as we adjust to the seasons and movements of the Lopit people. Dry season is a whole different animal than the rainy days! Meanwhile, some folks came to drill a new well for Steve & Co. and the church compound, so that will provide them a lot of relief. G’pa P was glowing when the trucks first drove in.
I’m really growing to love P more and more each time I see him at the church compound. He’s just such a steady guy, and so in love with God and so committed to his flock here. I’m not sure I’d be so strong, were I in his position. He hasn’t seen his wife and children in 20 years. They’re in a neighboring country, and he’s been struggling to get them here for years. It’s always about money, or about instability, or about something or the other. Imagine, not having seen your own children for so long, and to have been through and experienced the war like he has. To have grandchildren you’ve never met. And to be the rock of the church here. I admire this guy. The first time I ventured out after being sick I went to sit with him. He gave me a big smile and welcome, bought me a soda and we sat and chatted for a while. I couldn’t have asked for a better afternoon.
Anyway, that’s just a random update, here and there.