Capri Suns and Vacuum Cleaners

There are too many experiences to list them all for you. Everyday my children experience another piece of this thing called their 'passport culture', and we hope that one day when they must return to fly solo the pieces of the puzzle with come together and be less overwhelming.

So, today's anecdotes about how our kids are learning and coping: Capri Suns and Vacuum Cleaners. Growing up with cement floors and little electricity means lots of sweeping and mopping... and no vacuum cleaners. After most of their lives overseas, both Joel and Anna are still terrified of these beastly machines. They just aren't used to the loud noises. But then how could they be? For now, James is the designated chore vacuumer and his younger siblings run for cover.

Almost everyday I find people gazing curiously at my kids. Last week they were given Capri Sun juice pouches for the first time. After drinking them, they discovered the fun of puffing them full of air! Nearly balloons really. So then came the tilted head of a new acquaintance. And me explaining that they've never seen a Capri Sun before.

Everything is new. There is always something fun to discover. How mail works. How a dishwasher works. How clean water is at your fingertips in every drinking fountain. How fun it is to blow dry your hands in a public restroom, or drive thru a restaurant and have yummy food and toys thrown into your car. Or blow up Capri Suns like balloons.

So when you see my kids doing something strange, just tilt your head a bit and I'll explain once again, "They've never done this before."

So sorry for the 2-months of silence here... I have heard several of you encouraging me to continue blogging even while we spend a few months in North America. It has been quite a huge transition, naturally, from living in Central Africa to living in the States again. We have been away for two years, and a few things have changed. TV shows are now online instead of on TV. Pants are tight instead of loose. Boy's hair is down in their face and leg warmers are back. Makes me see visions of jr. high... Now I feel old.

Anyway, James remembered lots of things right away, being the oldest. So he knew all about drinking fountains, restrooms with air blowers, automatic toilets and faucets, city parks, even remembered how to work a vacuum cleaner and that the bakery ladies at Fred Meyer have free cookies! Joel, on the other hand, mostly remembered family members and friends. He was old enough to understand we are here temporarily and moving around a bit, so he's along for the (fun) ride.

Then there's Anna, who was only just 2 when we left and really didn't remember much of anything about our fast-paced, tasty, cold double life.

More on our adjustments to come...

Savor

You know how it goes... take time...

stop and smell the roses...

drink in the sweet moments...

treasure up all these things in your heart...

Savor.

The French use a different word: profiter, from the same root that we pull the word 'profit'. Make the most of every opportunity. Well, we are being given an absolutely HUGE gift to spend Christmas across the world with our family, so we will be doing just that - savoring.
It will be a bit of a shock to go from summer to winter, from flip-flops to snow boots in 29 hours, but we want to make the most of it!

You will likely not hear much on this blog for the next month,

but know that we are wishing you the Merriest of Christmases!
We hope this season is filled with True Hope for you and yours!

Savor something good,
even if it is just sunlight on snow.
All good gifts are from Him,
the Father of Lights.

Blessed Advent!

Photologue: Lake Albert

our first glimpse of Lake Albert

The road down the escarpment was steep...

...and the flatlands near the lake were pretty muddy!

Waiting for our paperwork to get processed, many people gathered around to see the 'white kids'. One mother even passed her baby in the window to sit a few minutes on Joel's lap. Our guide told us if the kids shook our hand, they would refuse to wash it all day long...

In the boat. Seeing fishermen pull in their nets.

He's not hiding from the camera, just bailing some water...

The man.

...gotta love all the faces!
(Thank you Rachel for the sunglasses!)

We love our little water proof camera, but it got a little fogged up over the lake.
You can probably still see this guy having lunch right by the road!

Winding up through the Ruwenzori mountains!

This was taken minutes before my first time ... how to say this... Let's just say the cow in that back right corner didn't make it to the pit stop and we needed our windshield wipers for much more than rain.


It was long, but worth it with this waiting on the other end:

swimming with friends on the shore of Lake Victoria...

playing, eating, sleeping and playing and eating and sleeping.
(Thank you Menda for everything!)
A great time was had by all!

Travelogue: Lake Albert

Our trip across Lake Albert was very enjoyable.
It's a fascinating place!
Sorry - no hippos in sight...

Here's the play-by-play:
The first leg of the trip was in a car with a cousin of a friend who is also the head of a local NGO. He was wonderful to talk to! He has so many interesting ideas about why things fail here and how to help them change. We really enjoyed the ride into his hometown, meeting some of his friends, and hearing about his work to help the physically disabled people in this region gain tools and experience to live well in their own homes with their own families. Right where they are. Working with what they have. Instead of lamenting and importing what feels lacking.

He drove us to a private beach location where we transferred bags from car to boat, used the outhouse and gooped up on sunscreen. We had hoped to 'set sail' (it was really a motorboat) before the sun got hot, but we ended up embarking at 10:30am with the sun already heating up. The cool wind made the trip gorgeous! The water was somewhat warm, we all buckled up in our deluxe life jackets complete with reflectors and whistles. The kids, of course, had to try out the emergency whistles... Yep, they work!

There were three people sitting across the boat and three benches to sit on. Kent and I sat on the first one, then the three kiddos in the middle and three local ladies behind them. In the middle of the trip I could understand the ladies were debating about which of our boys was the eldest or whether they were twins. I cleared up their misconceptions and shared our gingersnaps. What else could I do? Joel had just reached in the water and accidentally soaked one of them with his splashing.

Anna was hysterical when she sat down and felt the boat rocking. She was inconsolable until allowed to grip my hand with white knuckles. Once the motor started and we had wind and a view she shouted nervously, "I love this!!" You will get a kick out of the pictures we took of her in her sunhat, shades and life jacket gripping my hand for dear life. The boys are seasoned travelers by now I guess. They seemed nervous the days before, but were excellent and confident when we got to the boat. We all had fun spotting different water foul. We tried not to be concerned that the 'copilot' of the outboard motor was occasionally bailing water. What could I expect from a handmade boat? I knew we were in the best possible hands and left it at that.

We lost an hour somewhere in the middle of the lake and it became high noon. Amazing that all that warm water will travel north to Sudan, Ethiopia and Egypt!

I've never seen a lake that had bits of floating vegetation everywhere. Lots of lily pad-like things. And the occasional pretty purple flowers. Fun to see all the dugout fishing boats too. Up to this point our trip was really glorious (not only because we always travel better in the mornings). I shouted over to Kent, "People pay big money to go boating on a day like this!" I felt like a yuppi crossing Lake Washington. Our 2-hour tour across the southern tip of the lake only took 1hour, 40 minutes and there was little wind to splash us. The country we were entering is, generally, much more organized and wealthier, so I mistakenly assumed it was clear sailing from here on out...

First of all, when we beached the dugout boat... yes, I say 'beached' because we got in at a 'real dock' and now landed in a lily pad marsh on a patch of sand... there were no signs or buildings. There were a couple of enormous trucks (lorries) full of bottled water and other goods for transit and eventual sale getting loaded one man at a time into a much bigger transport boat. They were handmade boats the size of a city bus, and couldn't get very close to shore. So laborers were hired to cart 2-3 boxes of goods on their heads from the back of the trucks into the warm lakewater chest deep where someone would drag them onto the boats. Quite an interesting sight really.

Anyway, once we were beached, the only way out involved a foot or two of lakewater and lilypads. No big deal in your swimsuit among friends, but disconcerting with 3 kids, 6 suitcases and 30 strangers. Some of the laborers came right over to lift us out. That didn't look like a good option to me. One of the local ladies told them "Hakuna pesa" (no money) over and over, so I assumed this hauling of people was a paid position. Kent climbed over the suitcases and was able to jump to the sand more or less. James and Joel followed. One of the kind ladies lifted Anna over there (who resumed her freaking out now that my hand was not attached to hers anymore), and there I stood in the boat gently rocking in the lapping waves.

So I did what I have seen my courageous mother do many times, rolled up my sleeves (pants in my case) and jumped in with both feet! =) It felt nice on my feet actually. I tossed my shoes to dry land first. I think I shocked those 30 strangers. Unfortunately, the immigration process waiting for us had nothing better to do all day and took a long time and was not friendly in the least. But soon enough we were piled in a taxi sedan and driving toward our destination. We were by this time about 2 hours later than we wanted to be.

Our route took us through a portion of game park, or wildlife preserve. It was fun hearing the driver's stories about seeing the lions sleeping on the road at night. We saw gazelle and other deer-like thing in abundance. I would want to live here if I was a lion too! But we didn't see him with our own eyes. Just his meal for tomorrow. We also saw a mother warthog with her babies next to the road. The car drew closer and she just took off, leaving them to fend for themselves! What a mom.

We wound our way through the Ruwenzori Mountains, which reminded me a bit of the foothills of the Cascades and more closely the mountains in northwestern Cameroon. People would work the land at a 60 or 70 degree angle, which amazes me! Lush green hills with wide dusty dirt tracks sliced through steep valleys. It was beautiful!! There were even a species of evergreen - in the tropics! Apparently, these mountains do actually get snow occasionally in April. Who knew?

We arrived to meet our bus connection to find that it had just left. Our options were staying the night and waiting a day, hopping a small van taxi or hiring our current driver to continue on. We opted for the last option after a quick stop to buy more water at a real grocery store! Pavement and grocery stores - civilization itself!

Alfred the taximan was nice. Kent and the kids sacked out for a nap in the back and he and I discussed life in the front seat as we drove. There are few drivers I am comfortable with as a front-seat passenger, but Alfred was good! He knew the roads well and that helps immensely. He knew when we would see road construction and truck after truck rolled by with Chinese sprawled across the front. He knew when to gun it and make up the time. He was careful with his car and I appreciated it.

It took us a long time. It was a long afternoon. We didn't pull into town until well after dark, just in time for rush hour traffic! And he didn't know the unlit roads well in the city. I began to pray that God would somehow guide us there without even ONE wrong turn as it was really late for the kids. We called our friends for directions as we neared their house. We couldn't find the Total gas station they referred to, but decided to pull off the road a bit to get better directions. As it turns out, the road we were sitting on was the very one we needed! We found their house and minutes later were chowing down homemade lasagna and taking hot showers! Not one wrong turn!!

Driving ourselves last time took about 16 hours, which for us is best spread over two days. This time with the boat over the lake we were hoping would take only 12 hours. We ended up taking 14, but were really slowed down by the whole missing-the-bus decision. Anyway, we are glad to have done it at least once! I probably still prefer the airplanes in 68 minutes or less to be honest. And I won't say I'm sorry we didn't see any hippos or crocodiles. I didn't really want to anyway. We waved to them all the same!

Pictures will come once my better half returns in the camera cord! =)

The Big Eight

Sorry not to post much more about the fun party and celebration we had today for James. I can't believe he's 8! Sounds so old to me. In just 10 hours we are attempting to traverse this portion of the globe which will involve not one, not two, but three different taxi rides, a boat trip across Lake Albert and a bus trip across the Ugandan midwest. Should be an adventure any way we slice it! So, to catch up on James' big day, see my facebook photos over there. And to catch up on our trip, I will post updates just as soon as I can!

I'll wave to the hippos for you!

Sese Fo

She sits quietly flipping the pages of her illustrated Bible for children.

Crowded faces behind peer over her shoulder to peek at the pictures they never had.

The big people stand up.

Sing stuff.

Sit down.

Pray something.

She kicks her muddy shoes on the bare-board pew just in front of her.

You see, this is church.

But it is not church as I have ever known it.

This is church in a foreign language.


Our kids are learning Swahili, but we haven't pushed French yet. We usually attend the French service, and while it is all well-known to Kent and I, we know Anna isn't getting much. She has started to recognize songs and try to sing them. Last week we sang a familiar tune:

"Je suis fort, fort! Oui plus que vainqeurs
par le sang... de Jesus!"

[translation: "I am strong! More than conquerors because of the blood of Jesus!" Okay that sounds weird in English, but it sounds good in French, trust me.]

I didn't realize until we got home that Anna was singing (at the top of her lungs no less) this same tune. "Sese fo, fo. we nanana" She's making sense of something and proclaiming it from the rooftops. I have to admit, as a linguist who loves languages it was a little disturbing to hear her murdering the French, but she's only 3. James, at almost 8, can sing all the words and those of a few other songs as well, but he'll never outsing his vociferous little sister. =)

The girl has volume I have never known. Opera future? maybe. She's right there with Olivia the Pig. Yesterday we talked about the Nutcracker and ballet and she promptly donned her Fancy Nancy tap shoes and tried a tap routine. She really only slipped those two times because the shoes were on the wrong feet. Dancer?

Whatever she becomes, I pray everyday she knows and understands where real strength comes from. For now we'll go with 'Sese fo!'

The Races

One lazy Sunday, I heard lots of laughing on the back porch.
I went to investigate (as any mother would because sometimes laughing is synonymous with trouble).
But this was not the case.
No, this laughter came from cheering at ant races.
Yes, you read that correctly.
Ant Races.

You may recall we have had a year of battling with biggie-sized ants in our kitchen. Since the back porch has been doubling as the kitchen these days (basins for washing dishes, charcoal burner for long cooking), we stack dirty dishes out there. Presto! No ant problem in the kitchen. They're all outside. There is a Congolese genius to traditional construction of a cooking house separate from the residence.

So the boys were watching these ants do their thing around our breakfast dishes. The stacked basins for washing became like a track, and I have no idea why but the ants would go around and around and around. That IS funny. Can you find the lead ant in this race?

I love that my kids don't need video games, noises or flashing lights to enjoy playing. I always avoided battery toys when they were tiny (not only for my own sanity, but because I wanted their little brains to get well-exercised in IMAGINATION).
I love the look of wonder on their faces as they discover things all around them,
and create little castles,
moats,
dams,
houses,
roads,
etc.
Little universes that help make sense of their own.
Filled to the brim with imagination.

The Divider

It can look like a Great Barrier Reef, this massive division separating one world from another. To build that bridge and learn that language is so slow and so much work, most people don't bother. But the Body of Christ is to be a symbol of unity across barriers. We have immense chasms of differences and yet we are one Body.

I was sitting in church last week trying really hard to listen to a sermon in Swahili. This past year we have become really comfortable with the young - urban - professional - youthgroup French service, but the life of the church is really conducted in Swahili, so we are trying. My side of the barrier sounded something like this:

... Matthew 11 ... ... ...         ... ... ... ready ... ... ... ... he/she/it is praying ... ... ...                ... ... first... ... ... Jesus ... ... ...          friend of mine from my village ... ...                  ... ... always said he was really strong (lots of laughter) ... ...                   ... people look for him when someone doesn't pay them back...          ... joy ... ... many people ... ... ...                 ... ... like that ... ...                ... praiseworthy ... ...

Doesn't make much sense, does it? I'd love to claim that I had to take 13 different children at different times out back to the outhouse, but it's not true. The kids occasionally distracted me with a request for water, but in general there were many lost minutes of nothing but noise to me. Hard to subsist on jumbled pieces that don't make sense while you wait for the blanks to be filled with understanding that seeps in at a snail's pace.

Kent was able to fill in most of the meaning I missed on the way home. Apparently, it was a great message about following John the Baptist's example of humility. Ironic.

You may remember the experience I related in of attending Obedi's funeral where his mother, in her early nineties no less, sat in the dirt next to his coffin. I was confused at first that one of the younger sisters was talking right into her ear. I thought maybe she was hard of hearing until I listened for a louder clearer version of Swahili to find the sister was translating into a local language! This grandmother needed a translator to attend her son's funeral.

And left me wondering, how many people in this country are sitting in services hearing messages that are more 'blank' than meaningful? How many grandmothers who come have a limited understanding of Swahili like I do?

Oh that God's Word would bridge the gap and fill in the blanks!

This is why we came.