This afternoon, I decided to take a different road up the mountain, find a coffee shop, and read there. I remembered that this one road not too far from my home went clear up to the top of the mountain, where I used to house-sit and parrot-sit for friends.
I drove up steep, steep roads (perhaps at a 45 degree angle), encountering at times hairpin turn after hairpin turn. I'll definitely take another route down, I thought to myself. This'd be a bit much coming down on a scooter.
I passed unattended fruit stands, where you could weigh your own persimmons and starfruits and leave the money in a box. I stopped to pick up some seed pods to show my kids. I watched huge butterflies flutter by. I wished I had my camera with me.
The road took me past a pristine little garden on the side of the road. There was nothing there. Someone had simply made the little garden so you could sit there and take in the breathtaking view of all of Taipei county, all the way to the ocean.
I drove past a lazy dog or two, a couple working in their vegetable patch, and then, that was it. Dead end.
It's not the way I remember this road. What about the road to the Perkins' home? I wondered. As I drove back, I saw it. There was a little footpath up to my friends' home. I couldn't go up with my scooter. I'd have to ride down again.
I don't tend to look for the lesson in every single encounter in life, but as I was making my way down the mountain, I couldn't help but think that this is life. Sometimes, our expectations are unmet. Sometimes, the purpose of a journey is simply to enjoy just that very moment.
At times, the road might not lead to new things. But then again, it does, if only we'd open our eyes to what's around us.
And simply enjoy it.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
"Miss Booysen, where does pasta come from? And cheese?"
We were talking about things we're thankful for again this morning. Says my one kid: "I ate pasta last night, Miss Booysen. I'm thankful for pasta! Oh, Miss Booysen? Where does pasta grow?"
We'd been talking about veges recently, and made a chart of which vegetables grow above ground, and which ones under the ground. I asked them to turn to their partners and come up with an answer. When they shared their answers, most thought that pasta grew on trees. I wonder if it is because there are some strange trees in our neighborhood with these strange-looking hairy, rooty things hanging from their branches! It looks kinda like dark spaghetti!
We decided we might have to go back to the market where we bought veges the other day to watch one vendor make pasta!
Then someone said they were thankful for cheese. Asks one of my most curious little kids: "Miss Booysen, where does cheese grow?" (Although it's more like, "Mith Booythen, whe' doth cheeth grow?")
After talking with their partners, some of the boys figured they knew. "In my belly button!" one laughed. "In my socks!" quipped another. Only boys would think of that!
Some thought it grew under the ground, other on trees.
"No!" another one explained. "It's from a cow!"
"It GROWS ON A COW?"
Yip. For real. That's what I like about 4-year-olds.
"No! You take the milk. You hit the milk. You get cheese."
So, there! Now we know!
So tomorrow we're writing down question to ask my friend's dad who used to be a cheese maker, so we can e-mail him or even see if we can set up a Skype call...
Kids are so curious! I love that about them. That, and a million other things. But not the cheese some of them are supposedly growing on their bodies.
We'd been talking about veges recently, and made a chart of which vegetables grow above ground, and which ones under the ground. I asked them to turn to their partners and come up with an answer. When they shared their answers, most thought that pasta grew on trees. I wonder if it is because there are some strange trees in our neighborhood with these strange-looking hairy, rooty things hanging from their branches! It looks kinda like dark spaghetti!
We decided we might have to go back to the market where we bought veges the other day to watch one vendor make pasta!
Then someone said they were thankful for cheese. Asks one of my most curious little kids: "Miss Booysen, where does cheese grow?" (Although it's more like, "Mith Booythen, whe' doth cheeth grow?")
After talking with their partners, some of the boys figured they knew. "In my belly button!" one laughed. "In my socks!" quipped another. Only boys would think of that!
Some thought it grew under the ground, other on trees.
"No!" another one explained. "It's from a cow!"
"It GROWS ON A COW?"
Yip. For real. That's what I like about 4-year-olds.
"No! You take the milk. You hit the milk. You get cheese."
So, there! Now we know!
So tomorrow we're writing down question to ask my friend's dad who used to be a cheese maker, so we can e-mail him or even see if we can set up a Skype call...
Kids are so curious! I love that about them. That, and a million other things. But not the cheese some of them are supposedly growing on their bodies.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
"Eggs come from CHICKENS??"
I've realized that in the busy-ness of work and studies, I'm losing some of the really adorable things my kids do and say by not writing them down. At lunch after church, a friend reminded me of this, though...
Last week, I took my kids to a local market. We have been talking about vegetables. Where do which veges grow? And so on and so forth. So during our visit to the market, we saw much more than fruit and vegetables, of course. We also saw slaughtered ducks and chickens, fresh fish, and a cornucopia of Chinese treats.
Passing the egg stand, I asked something about whether eggs were vegetables. Which led to a simple explanation that eggs come from chickens.
One of my girls had this total valley-girl expression on her face, and blurted out, "EGGS COME FROM CHICKENS???" In her world, they've always, always just come from roughly the same spot as the fruit and vegetables at the local supermarket.
Then, on Thursday, when we were celebrating my birthday by baking brownies in class, I asked again where eggs came from. This time, my most expressive boy jumped up from his spot on the carpet declaring, "I know!" and started doing a chicken dance in the center of the group, making clucking sounds to boot.
I really am enjoying working with 4-year-olds! They keep me on my toes, and they keep me on my knees in more ways than one. Some days, they drive me nuts. But most days, they make me laugh. A lot.
I love that. I really do love them. And most of the time, I like 'em, too.
I suspect the feeling is mutual.
Last week, I took my kids to a local market. We have been talking about vegetables. Where do which veges grow? And so on and so forth. So during our visit to the market, we saw much more than fruit and vegetables, of course. We also saw slaughtered ducks and chickens, fresh fish, and a cornucopia of Chinese treats.
Passing the egg stand, I asked something about whether eggs were vegetables. Which led to a simple explanation that eggs come from chickens.
One of my girls had this total valley-girl expression on her face, and blurted out, "EGGS COME FROM CHICKENS???" In her world, they've always, always just come from roughly the same spot as the fruit and vegetables at the local supermarket.
Then, on Thursday, when we were celebrating my birthday by baking brownies in class, I asked again where eggs came from. This time, my most expressive boy jumped up from his spot on the carpet declaring, "I know!" and started doing a chicken dance in the center of the group, making clucking sounds to boot.
I really am enjoying working with 4-year-olds! They keep me on my toes, and they keep me on my knees in more ways than one. Some days, they drive me nuts. But most days, they make me laugh. A lot.
I love that. I really do love them. And most of the time, I like 'em, too.
I suspect the feeling is mutual.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Looking back
(Some of this is a repost. Some is new.)
I've walked on the Great Wall,
and dived the Barrier Reef.
I've hiked the Knysna forest
and I've soared over the Serengeti plains.
I’ve hung on for dear life on jeepneys in Manilla,
and in matatus in Nairobi.
I've dodged potholes in the Rift Valley,
and gotten lost in Taiwan.
I've explored the back streets of Manhattan,
and have known the freeways of LA.
I've bargained for fuel in the Congo,
and pleaded with police in Mozambique.
I have walked on a glacier in Alaska,
and sailed around islands
in the mid-summer heat.
I’ve camped on the beach in Niece,
and had dinner in a castle in Talinn.
I’ve sat sat in tukuls in Sudan,
and ghops in Korr/Kenya.
I've heard the people's stories
and kept them in my heart.
I've visited around fires in the Bushveld,
and danced around ones in the Maasai Mara.
I've stood on Table Mountain,
on the rim of the Grand Canyon,
on the Twin Towers
and climbed the stairs of Lady Liberty.
I've picnicked under the Eiffel Tower
and walked on the Sydney Harbor Bridge.
I've swum with wild dolphins,
and watched green turtles lay eggs by my door.
I've watched foxes care for their young,
and lionesses teach their cubs to hunt.
I’ve been chased by a rhino and an elephant.
I learned how to love driving in really bad mud.
I’ve been to more countries than I am old.
I've survived a massive earthquake,
typhoons, and floods.
I had a ticket for a plane that crashed.
I’ve sung in the most beautiful concert halls in the world,
and to an audience who could not hear.
I've lived among people in poverty,
and among ones who have too much.
I’ve had tea with Presidents,
and chai with friends
for whom it was all they had at home.
I have always had enough.
I've taken pictures in the rice paddies in Taiwan,
and in the deserts in Namibia, Kenya, and the USA.
I've had my camera confiscated,
and my voice silenced.
Notwithstanding, I've chosen to speak.
I've watched people die,
delivered a decomposed body to a family,
and have seen a baby being born.
I've seen the dead come back to life,
and those who think they live, slip away.
I've cried hard, and have laughed harder.
I have known and been known.
I've been tempted. I've succumbed.
I've resisted. I have known grace.
I have failed, I have hurt.
I have succeeded, and rejoiced.
I have loved, and been loved.
I have been blessed.
I have laughed with strangers
And have made lonely neighbors smile.
I’ve taught adults and kids alike.
I've been called talkative and quiet,
passionate, adventuresome, intense,
even a bit of an activist.
I’ve been mugged and been conned.
I’ve been attacked by a mob
and have stared death in the eye.
I have survived.
And so, I'll keep speaking for those without a voice.
I'll keep asking questions.
I'll keep taking photos and telling people's stories.
I'll keep sharing that which God is teaching me.
I'll keep living life to the fullest.
I'll choose no other way.
***
Today, I am 41. Last year, I wrote about some of the things I've had the joy of doing in life. I looked at that list again, added some things.
The bottom line? For me, life with God is an amazing adventure! Some uncertainties despite.
This time last year, I was in Nairobi with no idea what was lying ahead. I only knew God gave me total peace about moving on. A year later, I do not regret the move. I still don't know what's ahead after I've completed my studies, but for now, I'll continue to choose to enjoy life to the fullest.
Thanks for being part of my journey.
I've walked on the Great Wall,
and dived the Barrier Reef.
I've hiked the Knysna forest
and I've soared over the Serengeti plains.
I’ve hung on for dear life on jeepneys in Manilla,
and in matatus in Nairobi.
I've dodged potholes in the Rift Valley,
and gotten lost in Taiwan.
I've explored the back streets of Manhattan,
and have known the freeways of LA.
I've bargained for fuel in the Congo,
and pleaded with police in Mozambique.
I have walked on a glacier in Alaska,
and sailed around islands
in the mid-summer heat.
I’ve camped on the beach in Niece,
and had dinner in a castle in Talinn.
I’ve sat sat in tukuls in Sudan,
and ghops in Korr/Kenya.
I've heard the people's stories
and kept them in my heart.
I've visited around fires in the Bushveld,
and danced around ones in the Maasai Mara.
I've stood on Table Mountain,
on the rim of the Grand Canyon,
on the Twin Towers
and climbed the stairs of Lady Liberty.
I've picnicked under the Eiffel Tower
and walked on the Sydney Harbor Bridge.
I've swum with wild dolphins,
and watched green turtles lay eggs by my door.
I've watched foxes care for their young,
and lionesses teach their cubs to hunt.
I’ve been chased by a rhino and an elephant.
I learned how to love driving in really bad mud.
I’ve been to more countries than I am old.
I've survived a massive earthquake,
typhoons, and floods.
I had a ticket for a plane that crashed.
I’ve sung in the most beautiful concert halls in the world,
and to an audience who could not hear.
I've lived among people in poverty,
and among ones who have too much.
I’ve had tea with Presidents,
and chai with friends
for whom it was all they had at home.
I have always had enough.
I've taken pictures in the rice paddies in Taiwan,
and in the deserts in Namibia, Kenya, and the USA.
I've had my camera confiscated,
and my voice silenced.
Notwithstanding, I've chosen to speak.
I've watched people die,
delivered a decomposed body to a family,
and have seen a baby being born.
I've seen the dead come back to life,
and those who think they live, slip away.
I've cried hard, and have laughed harder.
I have known and been known.
I've been tempted. I've succumbed.
I've resisted. I have known grace.
I have failed, I have hurt.
I have succeeded, and rejoiced.
I have loved, and been loved.
I have been blessed.
I have laughed with strangers
And have made lonely neighbors smile.
I’ve taught adults and kids alike.
I've been called talkative and quiet,
passionate, adventuresome, intense,
even a bit of an activist.
I’ve been mugged and been conned.
I’ve been attacked by a mob
and have stared death in the eye.
I have survived.
And so, I'll keep speaking for those without a voice.
I'll keep asking questions.
I'll keep taking photos and telling people's stories.
I'll keep sharing that which God is teaching me.
I'll keep living life to the fullest.
I'll choose no other way.
***
Today, I am 41. Last year, I wrote about some of the things I've had the joy of doing in life. I looked at that list again, added some things.
The bottom line? For me, life with God is an amazing adventure! Some uncertainties despite.
This time last year, I was in Nairobi with no idea what was lying ahead. I only knew God gave me total peace about moving on. A year later, I do not regret the move. I still don't know what's ahead after I've completed my studies, but for now, I'll continue to choose to enjoy life to the fullest.
Thanks for being part of my journey.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Thoughts
I'm sitting in "my" gazebo by my old house. The birds are singing, and the river is flowing steadily. The sky is aflame in the most beautiful sunset, which is reflecting perfectly in the river.
It's been good to be back. Good and strange, too. This morning, as I walked to a meeting, it felt like I had never left. I was wearing a skirt and my leather sandals, carrying a cup of chai with me, listening to the staff singing during the staff meeting. It really felt like I had never left.
It's been almost a year since I left the village. The kids were very excited to see me, as I was to see them! It's been equally good to catch up with friends on staff. There have been many, many changes in this village in the past year, and I've been catching up on how everyone's doing...
Today, after several meetings, I went to check how the dental team was doing. They were cleaning the kids' teeth. Katonye (Dennis), one of my favorite little ones in Kipkaren, slid onto my lap. He has a raspy voice, and every so often, he'd just look at me, say my name, and give his raspy chuckle.
I've missed the kids. I'm touched to see that they have really missed me, too.
As for our team: They're doing amazingly well. We've laughed lots, and worked lots. My role with them is mostly liaison. And encourager. They're a great bunch, though. They think BIG, which I love. Nothing's too overwhelming to them.
Right now, I need to head to the library to have dinner. Am planning to do debriefing with the team at the gazebo closer to the river tonight, to the light of just a lantern...
I'm glad I'm here for this moment in time.
It's been good to be back. Good and strange, too. This morning, as I walked to a meeting, it felt like I had never left. I was wearing a skirt and my leather sandals, carrying a cup of chai with me, listening to the staff singing during the staff meeting. It really felt like I had never left.
It's been almost a year since I left the village. The kids were very excited to see me, as I was to see them! It's been equally good to catch up with friends on staff. There have been many, many changes in this village in the past year, and I've been catching up on how everyone's doing...
Today, after several meetings, I went to check how the dental team was doing. They were cleaning the kids' teeth. Katonye (Dennis), one of my favorite little ones in Kipkaren, slid onto my lap. He has a raspy voice, and every so often, he'd just look at me, say my name, and give his raspy chuckle.
I've missed the kids. I'm touched to see that they have really missed me, too.
As for our team: They're doing amazingly well. We've laughed lots, and worked lots. My role with them is mostly liaison. And encourager. They're a great bunch, though. They think BIG, which I love. Nothing's too overwhelming to them.
Right now, I need to head to the library to have dinner. Am planning to do debriefing with the team at the gazebo closer to the river tonight, to the light of just a lantern...
I'm glad I'm here for this moment in time.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Village Life
Got the team up at 4:00 on Friday. Get their luggage out, ready to be taken by road. Except the drivers didn't show up till 5:45, by which time the team was already at the airport.
Got the packing going, then jumped in the car to rush to the airport, simply on a feeling that something's not right there. Got to the airport to discover their tickets weren't paid for. Ugh! No fun. Got that squared away and got them on the flight.
Back to the guesthouse, picked up the last few items to take up north. We were taking along about 200 lbs of veges, seeing that my friends get anything fresh flown in. Nothing but thorn trees grow where they live.
Hopped on our little Cessna 206 (I think--it's a small 6-seater) and were ready to take off when we were told the airspace had been closed due to military exercises. Got off about an hour later, flying over the Ngong Hills, then row upon row of mountains covered in coffee and tea plantations. Then things start getting drier, and you enter desert area. Flew over craters, then lava fields, over manyattas (groups of huts out in the desert), saw some herds of camels and dozens of dust devils blowing around the desert. Landed in hot Korr.
My friends welcomed us, gave us an overview of things going on in the north, and then we were to head out to see where they'd like to build a hospital.
Except, two men showed up with a medical emergency. A young woman in their manyatta had been in labor for about 36 hours. They were fearing for her life. We RUSHED across desert roads, only to arrive to the news that the baby had been stillborn, and the mother is recovering.
I played with the kids a little while my friends were talking through things with the families. Then we were off to see the area.
My doctor friend committed to getting the first steps done to building a hospital: drilling for water. If there's water in that area, they'll do the next steps of starting building.
Life up north is HARD. We saw several dead camels in the desert, the drought is so severe! I'm told people have lost more than half of all their livestock. They have no food. UNWFP drops off food twice a month, enough for 5 days. So they have food for 10 days a month. Nothing grows. Nothing but thorn trees.
We chased ostriches on our way home (the ostriches outran the car), stopped by a group of ladies under a tree having literacy class, and headed into the compound to the sight of a beautiful sunset.
Had dinner with our pilots (they were waiting for us till the next day) as well as 2 teachers who are helping at the first-ever high school for Rendilles, built by my friends, the Swanepoels.
Walked home under a solid sky of stars. No light pollution. No pollution at all. No clouds. Just stars as far as you can see.
Fell asleep knowing to a desert breeze cooling down the room.
Up early to a beautiful sunrise. After breakfast, headed to a Rendille culture day. My friends encourage the Rendille to maintain all that is beautiful in their culture, so all their schools get together to sing songs and enact customs.
After 4.5 hours in the sun (and more than 300 pictures of everyone in their traditional clothing), we headed back home to freshen up for our flight, passing up on the meal of camel and rice.
Flew over rows and rows of mountains, finally approached the Great Rift Valley, and was welcomed by the team. Then off to Ilula, where I had lived for half my time in Kenya.
It was GOOD to see the kids in Ilula. Boy! Have they grown! My hand hurt at the end of the night from shaking so many hands so tightly. (Also from hanging on for dear life with one hand and a baby in the other hand on the back of the truck in Korr, after culture day.)
Visited with the kids; showed them photos of Taiwan and heard stories. Got out of team meetings too late to go and tuck them in... Bummed about that, but that's life.
Up early for chai and team meeting, then off to the Rono family to visit. More chai. More news. They are thrilled to hear that Esther is doing well in Iowa.
When I got out from their house, kids were waiting to show me how Flannel is doing. She's fine. :) And to show me how they've grown.
Then to church. But that goes on for very, very long, so I slipped out to write this since I know I won't have a chance soon again! There are already several people asking if they can "talk to me" after church. It will all be requests for money. It's one of the toughest things in Kenya, and my least favorite part of being here.
Sat with the Sifuna kids for a while in church. They beamed when they saw me. As did I. They're looking healthy. No jiggers. And they're clean from head to toe!
After lunch, we're heading to Kipkaren. Looking forward to seeing my friends there, too.
The next three days, I'll be helping at meetings regarding clinic stuff, and doing some photo shoots the staff had asked me to do. And assisting the team to do what they've come to do: provide healthcare.
Some of them are doing eye care, some are doing dental care, two are doing general care, some are working on water projects.
It'll be a busy 4 days ahead. Not sure when I can write again. Will try to post at least one update.
All is well. I'm glad to be here. I'm glad I get to connect friends with friends for projects. And I'm glad I get to go home to Taiwan on Saturday again.
Got the packing going, then jumped in the car to rush to the airport, simply on a feeling that something's not right there. Got to the airport to discover their tickets weren't paid for. Ugh! No fun. Got that squared away and got them on the flight.
Back to the guesthouse, picked up the last few items to take up north. We were taking along about 200 lbs of veges, seeing that my friends get anything fresh flown in. Nothing but thorn trees grow where they live.
Hopped on our little Cessna 206 (I think--it's a small 6-seater) and were ready to take off when we were told the airspace had been closed due to military exercises. Got off about an hour later, flying over the Ngong Hills, then row upon row of mountains covered in coffee and tea plantations. Then things start getting drier, and you enter desert area. Flew over craters, then lava fields, over manyattas (groups of huts out in the desert), saw some herds of camels and dozens of dust devils blowing around the desert. Landed in hot Korr.
My friends welcomed us, gave us an overview of things going on in the north, and then we were to head out to see where they'd like to build a hospital.
Except, two men showed up with a medical emergency. A young woman in their manyatta had been in labor for about 36 hours. They were fearing for her life. We RUSHED across desert roads, only to arrive to the news that the baby had been stillborn, and the mother is recovering.
I played with the kids a little while my friends were talking through things with the families. Then we were off to see the area.
My doctor friend committed to getting the first steps done to building a hospital: drilling for water. If there's water in that area, they'll do the next steps of starting building.
Life up north is HARD. We saw several dead camels in the desert, the drought is so severe! I'm told people have lost more than half of all their livestock. They have no food. UNWFP drops off food twice a month, enough for 5 days. So they have food for 10 days a month. Nothing grows. Nothing but thorn trees.
We chased ostriches on our way home (the ostriches outran the car), stopped by a group of ladies under a tree having literacy class, and headed into the compound to the sight of a beautiful sunset.
Had dinner with our pilots (they were waiting for us till the next day) as well as 2 teachers who are helping at the first-ever high school for Rendilles, built by my friends, the Swanepoels.
Walked home under a solid sky of stars. No light pollution. No pollution at all. No clouds. Just stars as far as you can see.
Fell asleep knowing to a desert breeze cooling down the room.
Up early to a beautiful sunrise. After breakfast, headed to a Rendille culture day. My friends encourage the Rendille to maintain all that is beautiful in their culture, so all their schools get together to sing songs and enact customs.
After 4.5 hours in the sun (and more than 300 pictures of everyone in their traditional clothing), we headed back home to freshen up for our flight, passing up on the meal of camel and rice.
Flew over rows and rows of mountains, finally approached the Great Rift Valley, and was welcomed by the team. Then off to Ilula, where I had lived for half my time in Kenya.
It was GOOD to see the kids in Ilula. Boy! Have they grown! My hand hurt at the end of the night from shaking so many hands so tightly. (Also from hanging on for dear life with one hand and a baby in the other hand on the back of the truck in Korr, after culture day.)
Visited with the kids; showed them photos of Taiwan and heard stories. Got out of team meetings too late to go and tuck them in... Bummed about that, but that's life.
Up early for chai and team meeting, then off to the Rono family to visit. More chai. More news. They are thrilled to hear that Esther is doing well in Iowa.
When I got out from their house, kids were waiting to show me how Flannel is doing. She's fine. :) And to show me how they've grown.
Then to church. But that goes on for very, very long, so I slipped out to write this since I know I won't have a chance soon again! There are already several people asking if they can "talk to me" after church. It will all be requests for money. It's one of the toughest things in Kenya, and my least favorite part of being here.
Sat with the Sifuna kids for a while in church. They beamed when they saw me. As did I. They're looking healthy. No jiggers. And they're clean from head to toe!
After lunch, we're heading to Kipkaren. Looking forward to seeing my friends there, too.
The next three days, I'll be helping at meetings regarding clinic stuff, and doing some photo shoots the staff had asked me to do. And assisting the team to do what they've come to do: provide healthcare.
Some of them are doing eye care, some are doing dental care, two are doing general care, some are working on water projects.
It'll be a busy 4 days ahead. Not sure when I can write again. Will try to post at least one update.
All is well. I'm glad to be here. I'm glad I get to connect friends with friends for projects. And I'm glad I get to go home to Taiwan on Saturday again.
Friday, October 09, 2009
dust devils in the desert
this is a funny keyboard, and i'm on solar power and someone's satellite, so just briefly:
* flew in a teeny tiny cessna for about 90 minutes to get to a very remote part of kenya, where I had visited friends prior to leaving kenya last year
* saw dozens of dust devils in the desert as we approached the 'town' of Korr, also herds of camels
* had a very productive meeting, then went out to look at the site for a possible clinic, but first had to stop for a medical emergency - a young mom had been in labor for almost 36 hours in one of the local manyattas and they were fearing she's dying. by the time we got there, the baby had already passed away, and the mom was resting
* didn't go in to see the family, but had a blast playing with the kids outside. most were naked or half-naked; the teens and grownups all in traditional garb. will load photos later
* tomorrow they are having a cultural day at the school. 400 kids plus their parents will be doing traditional rendille and samburu dances.
* i'm tired, wind-burned, but happy
* due to the extreme drought, most families here only have relief food, which is enough for 10 days. the rest of the month they have nothing to eat
* tonight, i'm once again especially grateful for food, running water, electricity, a roof over my head, friends around me, opportunities to study and enjoy life, medical services, LIFE itself, and for God, who is close to the Rendille even through their difficulties
* flew in a teeny tiny cessna for about 90 minutes to get to a very remote part of kenya, where I had visited friends prior to leaving kenya last year
* saw dozens of dust devils in the desert as we approached the 'town' of Korr, also herds of camels
* had a very productive meeting, then went out to look at the site for a possible clinic, but first had to stop for a medical emergency - a young mom had been in labor for almost 36 hours in one of the local manyattas and they were fearing she's dying. by the time we got there, the baby had already passed away, and the mom was resting
* didn't go in to see the family, but had a blast playing with the kids outside. most were naked or half-naked; the teens and grownups all in traditional garb. will load photos later
* tomorrow they are having a cultural day at the school. 400 kids plus their parents will be doing traditional rendille and samburu dances.
* i'm tired, wind-burned, but happy
* due to the extreme drought, most families here only have relief food, which is enough for 10 days. the rest of the month they have nothing to eat
* tonight, i'm once again especially grateful for food, running water, electricity, a roof over my head, friends around me, opportunities to study and enjoy life, medical services, LIFE itself, and for God, who is close to the Rendille even through their difficulties
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
"Miss Booysen's going to Africa!"
I get to go back to Kenya for a few days. When I was in Iowa this summer, friends of mine asked if I'd lead their team on a return medical mission. I was thrilled to do it, thinking time is not a problem--I work part time. Right?
Not any more!
When the school asked me if I'd take on a full-time pre-K teaching position, I explained that I already had a commitment in October. They were gracious enough to understand. It turns out that though I'll be gone for 10 days, I only miss 4 school days. That's a God thing, really. It "just so happened" that this trip, planned months ago, is falling over two 3-day school weeks.
My little ones are excited for me to go to Africa. When one of the moms asked her daughter what I'll be doing there, she said, kind of in a moms-just-don't-get-it manner, "To see giraffes and zebras and lions, of course!"
So I explained to the kids today that I'm going to "help sick people." How else do I explain that I'm a part of a medical team but have no medical expertise. I'm going as a liaison, helping to facilitate meetings for some future projects (planning to build a clinic in the remote north of Kenya) as well as for ways in which the team's involvement so far can be maximized. (In other words, how can the clinic they funded in Kipkaren be self-sustainable?)
Until this morning, it really hadn't sunk in that I'm going.
I've been pre-occupied with getting things ready for parent-teacher conferences starting the day I walk back into class. And with finishing a Church History class. (Yeah! I'm another step closer to being Dr. Booysen!) And with working on the coursework for two other classes as well, one of which is the start of my dissertation.
Back to Africa, though.
So it really only hit me this morning that I'm going back to Kenya tonight...
Some things I am really looking forward to:
* Seeing my Kenyan friends, especially the kids in Ilula
* Catching up with my friends in Kipkaren, and meeting Allison and David's baby boy
* Telling the kids about life in Taiwan
* Spending time with God by the river in the mornings
* Watching the African sunrise and sunset
* Journeying with the team, helping them unpack what they're learning
* Spending the last two days in the Maasai Mara with the team
* Buying little gifts for my kids here, so they know I was thinking of them
Things I'm not looking forward to?
* Being confronted with overwhelming needs, and trying to discern where to help and where not to help
Each and every one of my little rugrats gave me the biggest hug this afternoon. "Be careful of tigers, Miss Booysen," my quietest boy said. It doesn't matter how many times I've told them that there are not tigers or bears in Africa.
I'll be careful.
But not so careful that I don't have fun. And not so careful that I don't discover unexpected surprises in unexpected places. By that, I don't mean a snake in the bathroom. 'Cause that might happen, you know? It's just the way it is when you're right by a river.
But the river brings good surprises, too.
I know it does. When I was praying about leaving Kenya last year, God kept impressing on my heart that I need to step out in faith, that as I cross the river before me, he will make my feet sturdy, and that he'll build the bridge as I walk.
He has done so indeed.
What a GOOD GOD we serve!
I'll try to post updates from Kenya, of course.
Not any more!
When the school asked me if I'd take on a full-time pre-K teaching position, I explained that I already had a commitment in October. They were gracious enough to understand. It turns out that though I'll be gone for 10 days, I only miss 4 school days. That's a God thing, really. It "just so happened" that this trip, planned months ago, is falling over two 3-day school weeks.
My little ones are excited for me to go to Africa. When one of the moms asked her daughter what I'll be doing there, she said, kind of in a moms-just-don't-get-it manner, "To see giraffes and zebras and lions, of course!"
So I explained to the kids today that I'm going to "help sick people." How else do I explain that I'm a part of a medical team but have no medical expertise. I'm going as a liaison, helping to facilitate meetings for some future projects (planning to build a clinic in the remote north of Kenya) as well as for ways in which the team's involvement so far can be maximized. (In other words, how can the clinic they funded in Kipkaren be self-sustainable?)
Until this morning, it really hadn't sunk in that I'm going.
I've been pre-occupied with getting things ready for parent-teacher conferences starting the day I walk back into class. And with finishing a Church History class. (Yeah! I'm another step closer to being Dr. Booysen!) And with working on the coursework for two other classes as well, one of which is the start of my dissertation.
Back to Africa, though.
So it really only hit me this morning that I'm going back to Kenya tonight...
Some things I am really looking forward to:
* Seeing my Kenyan friends, especially the kids in Ilula
* Catching up with my friends in Kipkaren, and meeting Allison and David's baby boy
* Telling the kids about life in Taiwan
* Spending time with God by the river in the mornings
* Watching the African sunrise and sunset
* Journeying with the team, helping them unpack what they're learning
* Spending the last two days in the Maasai Mara with the team
* Buying little gifts for my kids here, so they know I was thinking of them
Things I'm not looking forward to?
* Being confronted with overwhelming needs, and trying to discern where to help and where not to help
Each and every one of my little rugrats gave me the biggest hug this afternoon. "Be careful of tigers, Miss Booysen," my quietest boy said. It doesn't matter how many times I've told them that there are not tigers or bears in Africa.
I'll be careful.
But not so careful that I don't have fun. And not so careful that I don't discover unexpected surprises in unexpected places. By that, I don't mean a snake in the bathroom. 'Cause that might happen, you know? It's just the way it is when you're right by a river.
But the river brings good surprises, too.
I know it does. When I was praying about leaving Kenya last year, God kept impressing on my heart that I need to step out in faith, that as I cross the river before me, he will make my feet sturdy, and that he'll build the bridge as I walk.
He has done so indeed.
What a GOOD GOD we serve!
I'll try to post updates from Kenya, of course.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Friday, October 02, 2009
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