A Life Well Lived

The last two months the song "Little is Much" by Downhere has been rolling around in my brain has been an encouragement to me.

The first line has esspecially made me ponder..."What is the measure of a life well lived?"

Well, what is? I have a few ideas of my own, but I would like to know what you think. Thoughts?

What I have Heard, Smelled, Tasted, Seen, and Touched

Just a few little things so far in this first week.

Heard:
-That the Sudanese are very friendly and helpful, and like visitors. This seems to be the case. Which is great. This particular visitor will be needing a lot of help, thank you very much.
-Right now, the mosque blaring some singing for the evening prayers. Sometimes some angry sounding yelling. Everyday a call to prayer that is tooooo early.
-At the house guys on donkey-pulled carts announcing their produce and prices as they go up and down the street.
-Mosquitos buzzing in my ears every night when I leave the window open for too long for some cool air.

Smelled:
-Spices like cumin being freshly ground in the market. Mmm.
-How stinky it is to make bricks the good old fashioned way. With clay, mud, and manure out in the hot, hot sun.
-Ok, really not a whole lot because the dry air has made my sinuses stuffy.

Tasted:
-The biggest, sweetest, best grapefruits of my life.
-A lot of tamir. Basically a falafel. Eaten with chili sauce, on bread, with salad, or by themselves.
-A drink, I don't remember what it's called, but a strong tea type thing made out of hibiscus flowers.
-More meat in this week than I ate all of last year. You can't refuse the food people make or buy for you!

Seen:
-Some crazyyy driving. Usually see at least 1 accident while I am out. Will be putting off driving in Africa for as many years as I possibly can.
-Lots of exciting things at the market. All kinds of grains, spices, legumes. I can't wait to start playing with all these new healthfoodstuffs!
-A lot of dusty streets that all look the same. Of which, very few are marked. Super.
-Men holding hands. And in long white caftans (dresses...? jk, jk!) with cute little hats. Perfectly masculine and normal and acceptable. PS Way unacceptable for a man and woman to hold hands.
-A baby literally on the brink of death from malnutrition be revived by rubbing some sugar on the inside of her mouth, which was followed by some other treatment. This was at the clinic I went to one morning where they treat some of the poorest of the poor. I went to see the conditions of the kids there, that will be very similar to some of the boys from the streets. I can now identify a certain type of ringworm that will only infect children.

Touched:
-My headscarf quite frequently while I am out. It falls, and is blown down, and I adjust it to keep it from being too hot/tight/loose and sometimes end up with it tangled or choking myself. It is not a faux pas really when it falls and such, and is not a necessity as a Westerner. I don't have to wear it all the time everywhere. Just most places and esspecially when I am in public. Still getting the hang of it.
-The Nile River! Put my feet in the sand, then the thick clayish mud. Will probably go swimming next time, though have to that fully clothed. No joke.
-The hands of the boys at the centre's where I will be working(!!!) who have been rescued from life on the streets. It is so nice to be in the place will I will be spending at least my next 2 years! :)

Here

I am having a hard time believing that I am really in Sudan. Sometimes when I have been in the house for a few hours or wake up in the morning I remember and it makes me smile.

I never, ever thought I would be living in a Muslim country; that I would be learning Arabic of all languages, that I would be in a place where I wear a headscarf most of the time so that I am not looked at as a woman of inpropriety, that I would be in a place where I am awakened (early) every morning by the call to prayer being blared by the nearby mosque every morning. And I chose a darn interesting time in history to be here too. With the South seceding this summer, the poltical situation here and in surrounding countries, talk of sharia law...it is an interesting time indeed. One in which no one can really guess what is going to happen.

Of all times in my life, this would be a good one to start freaking out a little bit. I am in a brand new, very unfamiliar (and seemingly impossible?) city to figure out. A public transportation system involving hand signals that I need to learn, no friends yet, and in a culture that is by leaps and bounds very, very different from my own. I am living next to a desert, in the most dusty place I can imagine, with no backyard...and really not much of anything else that I could call familiar.

But I have this...I don't know what to call it. It feels like a quiet confidence almost, that all is most well, that this is where God ordained my steps, that I am here for something. I can't explain it, and I almost can't believe it. If you saw the place maybe you would understand. It is a landscape that is harsh, dry, and kind of intimidating. I know I am only starting to scratch the surface of all of this. I know that many things are going to work against me while I am here. I know that there are many tough roads ahead--many involving discomfort, feeling dumb, and uncomfortable, and awkward, and getting things wrong. Lord knows what else. But I am happy to feel at peace, though not settled...yet. But this is home for awhile and I am happy. I am sure it will take all of the next 2 years to feel like I have any sort of idea about how to do anything, but I am looking forward to that point.

First impressions and such to come. To be honest my head is kind of swimming in the newness of everything and the mental exhaustion is kind of taking a physical toll as well. Stepping out a little more into the deep everyday instead of diving in headfirst...that seems the way to go.

Love Note?

Dear Africa,

I don't mean to be mean. We haven't gotten off to a rough start exactly. Safari was great and I have crossed paths with some lovely people.

The robbery, while not my fav, could have been much worse. Getting really sick the next day though just seemed a bit like adding insult to injury. I did feel well enough for my flight to Sudan, yes. But last nights super-sick-all-night-fell-asleep-next-to-the-toilet-then-literally-had-to-crawl-back-into-bed-because-I-couldn't-walk-thats-how-sick-I-was was kind of the worst. Like the sickest I have been since I got food poisoning 6 years ago.

It's not that I don't think we aren't meant to be anymore. I think we totally are. But for whatever reason I have been sicker the last 6 weeks here than I have in the last 6 years of my life. Maybe this could change? Because it is kind of putting a damper on things.

I know we can work this out. So if you could, just get rid of the amoeba/germs/parasite/whatever's thats are taking up residence in my tummy that would be great. We have a bright future together, Africa. Let's get on with it, shall we? Thanks. Much love.

Beth

My Headlamp, Really?!

I have written about 6 starter sentences and erased all of them and I am not sure how to start this. So lets just dive in, shall we?

Upon arriving back at the flat after church we (Chris, the lady with whom I am staying and I) were having a lot of trouble getting the key to work in the door. She fiddled with it, I fiddled with it and we were getting nowhere. So she sent for some help and I was finally able to push the door in with a small amount of force and get it to open. I walk in and everything looks normal. I turn the corner to my room...um...Chris...my computer is gone! She goes down to her room...mine too! And my money!All of our drawers and cabinets were open and had been rifled through.

We were robbed today while we were out. So we get the guards, the neighbors start coming, after awhile it was clear that the guards had not contacted the police. So Chris drove to the station which is nearby and they came after a little while. Asked questions, dusted for prints. The landlady came. Some friends of Chris's came by. Not the best afternoon of my life. Continued to go a littleeee bit downhill. Was trying to print my visa form and it was not and still is not working. During that time I burned the granola I was making (I needed a cooking project to occupy myself). A little while later Chris and I were singing and praising God and thanking him for life and safety and His goodness.Wouldn't you know it, the power goes out. I immediately just start laughing. We go outside to the balcony as there was still a bit of sunlight and kept singing.

The building locksmith guy finally came, he had been out of town and just got back, and performed some emergency first aid on the door so that it at least closes and locks for the night, and is putting a new lock on tomorrow. Afterwards Chris and I went around to each room and prayed in and over it. It is unsettling to be in a place where strangers have been going through and taking your things. Also, all signs kind of point to the fact that it was someone who lives in these flats. They had to have known we were gone because they used considerable force to get in. They also had to have known that the people that stay in the flat across from us were gone as well, as they would have heard them otherwise. Also the, trustworthy, guard said that there had been no visitors for a long time. Not a great feeling. Also, you can access the surrounding flats from the roof, just climb over and go down the stairs. So really no one on the ground could have seen them at all. They knew what they were doing. Jerks.

All things considered, I am so thankful. That we were not here, that we are alive, that the whole place was not torn apart, that mostly they did not take anything that cannot be replaced. Both of our laptops were stolen. I had a few hundred dollars taken, Chris had a significant amount of money taken, as well as her camera, computer bag, and a gold necklace that meant a great deal to her. I THOUGHT that my passport had been taken, as I had kept it with my money. For whatever reason, and I don't even remember doing it, I guess I had moved it onto the spare bed under a pile of papers. So thankfully I have that. They left my credit card that was sitting on my desk, as well as my Kindle and mp3 player, Chris's Ipod, and a few other things. BUT I noticed a few hours later that my headlamp was missing. It had been sitting on my bed table for use when the power goes out. Chris checked, as hers had been out too, and hers had been taken as well. So random! Really, our headlamps?! Really?!

Long day, and a lot of errands and fixing of things to do tomorrow. Thanks for all the sweet emails, prayers, and words of support. I appreciate it so much.

Day at the Slum and some Mad Props

Yesterday was the first day I went to the streets, to the kids on the streets, in their environment, where they live.

Yeah. It was tough.

We went to, not a slum exactly, but pretty darn close. Walked a little ways through a market and some buildings to what they call a base. It is an area between 2 buildings with a big concrete slab, like a building project that started and never finished. Generally about 200 kids and a few adults live and sleep there.

There were about 40 boys when we got there, along with a few men, and some teenageish girls. And a few little ones toddling around. We learned that one of the girls who had given birth in November, lost the baby over Christmas. It is a wonder any survive at all.

The first and one of the most alarming things one notices is the glue bottles. I would say that all but two or three of the children there had a glue bottle stuck in their mouths or held up to their faces inhaling this seriously strong smelling yellow/brown glue. They sniff glue all day. It drugs them so they don't feel hungry or...anything, really. I would venture to say that all of their eyes were glazed over. Many of them had their eyes rolling back into their heads. A couple had drool just dripping down their chins. No joke, because of their close proximity and the strength of the stuff I walked away with a bit of a contact high. The TKW team said that is pretty normal for the first few times; that they have had new people pass out on occasion.

They boys broke my heart. The kids who are being born on the street broke my heart. The girls who claim multiple husbands, the men who have known that as life for years and years, the families of these kids, the tortured and drugged existence they have breaks my heart. Who knows what has been done to these, what brought them to the streets. How could bear it without the drugs?! There was one boy, who was stumbling a bit, incredibly high, but still able to talk a bit. He spoke a little bit of English. Which means he had to have completed at least a few years of school. He had some sort of skin condition, one shoe, and was dressed in rags. His hands were rough and crusty, he did not smell nice. Where is his family? Does he have family? Are they worried? What drove him to this? What has been done to him on the street? What has he been through? Was it simple ignorance? Does he want to go home? Is there a home for him to go?

It is one of those things that you experience and your mind can't really comprehend the enormity of the pain. Your heart can hardly bear to reflect or become invested because it is so bleak a situation and such a picture of human suffering. I will say that it absolutely got me fired up to dive into the trench's, start setting some roots, and passionately start investing myself in children on the streets--the reason I came. Because I profess Christ, because I follow him, I have a responsibility to these kids. Each one is formed by Gods hand with love and care. They have more worth and value than can ever be measured. I am sure that God destines no one to live disconnected, one the street, alone, and drugged. Solace in glue? No. Solace comes from one source alone.

I was warned before going that I was going to be harassed. I am white. I am a woman. I am going into a slum area. It is kind of a given. Really, truly though, it was not that bad. I quasi talked with a few boys. They were not rude or impolite. Sometimes the drugs make them violent but thankfully this was not the case at all. It did absolutely help that a TKW staffer never left my side and kept an eye on me, telling one boy who kept hugging me to stop, and pulling me close when too many boys surrounded me. I was so thankful. It could have been a much more negative experience otherwise.

While I am on the subject, I just want to say that I have so much respect for the staff at Tumaini Kwa Watoto. They are seriously quality people.

Every morning the day is started with an hour of praise and prayer for individual kids and families. This is crying out/falling on your knees/speaking in tongues/clapping/sometimes crying/shouting/heartfelt prayer and praise. Seriously. Hearts pour out. These folks care deeply about these kids from the streets and their families. They pray for delivery from spirits, and they even deal with kids who are from very dangerous areas and a super dangerous cult. One that is violent, known for beheadings, and dealing with the spirit world. Scary stuff. These folks are not phased. They pray heartily, and for each other. In word and deed you can see their incredible passion for God and for the work he has put before them.

It is encouraging to see some great men of God who are acting as father figures to the boys in the center. They love those boys and are a wonderful example to them. They talk with them about God, about responsibility, dreams for the future, success. Boys all around the world are without a father or father figure. These men are filling that gap and no one can measure the lives they are touching. They are in their lives not only for a brief time, but for the long run because of the empowering of families and follow up that they are committed to. One of the guys here has even given his number to a couple of the boys. One of the guards at the centre lets the boys use their phone sometimes and he talks with them in the evenings sometimes. Once in a while the center gets fed up with some of the boys and they set a deadline for when they will be kicked out of the center. This guy tells them to come to his house if that happens. How amazing is that?!

They often go without their salaries on time. When I came in mid-January they still had not been paid out for the year because the money simply was not there. They prayed, had faith, and it came in. Monday morning we prayed for provision for the rest of their January salaries. About an hour after prayer the director came down to say he got an email that someone made a gift that would cover that deficit. That seems to be a regular thing around here and it is really amazing.

When I shared with them on Thursday about the miraculous receiving of my visa (by the way, I got my visa!) and they seriously rejoiced with me (and a few told me not to go, that they wanted me to stay with them!:) THEN they totally changed up the schedule for the day so I could be able to visit a slum and then today go on a home visit and follow up. Over and above, really. They prayed over me as I go to a place that is much different--and they did it powerfully. I really do fall in love with people easily, and this great group was no exception. These folks have inspired, empowered, and challenged me. I have learned so much from them. I am so thankful to have crossed paths with TKW and I am blessed to call them friends.

Kids on Strike

Today was an interesting day at the centre. I and the 2 other non-Kenyans in the office were told that today was our day to plan games and teach a song or two. So we had some ideas and I had planned on a fair amount of winging it...as you never really know how things are going to go in a new place and new culture.

 

So we get there and I wasn't really sure for the first 10 minutes or so what was going on, but you could tell that something about the day was not typical. When someone finally translated/explained what was going on it turns out that the boy's hadn't eaten yet, and were not going to because they were being punished. Because they had no food, they said that they would not sit and listen or participate with us. The boys had refused to wash the floor (well, a few ringleaders did and everyone else followed suit) so the madam's (the ladies who work at the centre and cook and keep house) were punishing them by not making them food. I was talking to one of the boys who said that cleaning the floor is woman's work; that men don't do that. That's fine if they want to think that they are men, but I told him that men who don't work don't eat. They said that they were used to not eating from being on the street so it was ok. I felt so bad for the good boys who wanted to eat, and for the new ones who came over the weekend. So the hour or so we were there, while the TKW staff tried to iron out things and figure out what was going on, I tried to chat with a few boys, then played a little soccer with a boy...because chatting in two different languages can only last so long.

 

Come to find out, it was explained to me on the way back, that one of the security guys started the whole thing because he is having a quibble with the rest of the staff over wanting an office. So he told them not to listen to the madam's and not to wash the floor. If this guy doesn't respect them, why should they? And you could see the lack of respect. Going into the office and taking chairs, badmouthing. One of the gals I work with was saying that in her 3 years going to the center she has never seen the lack of respect this bad. The security guys are the ones who are supposed to be disciplining the boys, and it is an obvious recipie for disaster if they are siding with the boys. The City Council (who runs the centre) will have to get involved if things escalate. Which means, um, not so gentle forms of punishment. We shall see what tomorrow brings.

 

In other news, my visa application is moving forward. Not uncrossing my fingers and toes yet because anything still could happen. Was happy to hear the unexpected good news yesterday though! Oh, and I saw 2 people riding a camel down a busy street on Sunday. And today there are monkeys in the backyard of the office...in the middle of Nairobi.

 

One more in the long list of reasons why I am happy to be in Africa.