graceful

I went for a run tonight. I was feeling good, confident, graceful. (anyone who has seen me run knows I'm anything but graceful. :-)) but I was feeling good and holding my head high. As I turned the corner off my street and down the side road, I was just about to pass a group of people walking towards me. I smiled, and then I tripped!!! on a GOAT!!! oh the shame. oh the laughter. oh the poor goat! I picked myself up off the ground and kept running, hanging my head a little lower. When I passed the roosters, I thankfully did not run into them. I also passed over the giant potholes without tripping. However I did manage to swallow more than a few flies as I was catching my breath. Mmm...protein! The biggest challenge, aside from the goat tied to the side of the road, is the heat! Even during the last hour of sunlight and a slight breeze, it is still mighty hot. I made salty popcorn for a snack today - thinking that may help ward off dehydration. So far I'm feeling good. I wish I could say the same for the poor goat - on my way back he saw me coming and ran as far as his rope would allow in the opposite direction! :-)

love. hate.

Have you ever been to a place, or a time in your life, where you feel such emotion that you are torn in making a decision on whose side you are on? I love Africa. I hate Africa. Some days I can’t decide. I’ve never been to any other place that has such a pull inside of me. It gets into your blood, your veins, pumps the excitement and anger all at once. It can be blissfully awesome or dreadfully miserable. And it can change daily.

When I first came to Africa 8 years ago, I could not believe how slow everything was. How slow things worked. The difference in time perspective I could not wrap my mind around. Everything took longer. Everything was slower. And people didn’t seem to notice; even worse they didn’t seem to care or see a problem with it. I remember fighting the urge to complain with every line I stood in, each time someone cut the queue, each bus trip that didn’t happen as the matatu was not yet full enough. I probably didn’t fight my urge to complain as much as I did complain. :-) But I always thought when I came back to an African country and learned the culture, lived and worked within it, I would adjust. I would understand. I would not have to fight an urge to complain because I would have adapted.

There is some truth in that. You do adjust. You do adapt. And the little things don’t seem so outrageous on most days. You learn to appreciate a different pace of life. But things still take a long time to happen. You find yourself needing to do so many more steps to accomplish one single thing. One simple thing. My cup of coffee in the morning is an example. Some days I don’t have the privilege. It just isn’t going to happen. One can easily become discouraged if you focus on what has not been accomplished rather than take a bigger picture perspective – though that itself can be dangerous. Mozambique is slow. It’s slower than Kenya. It’s less developed. With good reason. There is a long history of war and ruins, of cyclical natural disasters that continue to strike against the best of intentions. People are poor economically compared to the rest of the world. (Minus the six countries lower on the economic scale.) It is hotter than haites here. Work is difficult. There is little relief for those who do not have the luxury of a foreign income. I get that. And I can adjust to the point of functioning, living day to day and being happy with where I am. I hate the reality I see around me; but I love the spirit of the people who capture that reality. It is a contradiction. It tears at me on days when I feel my patience slipping away. I grew up in a culture where you fight hard for what you want and most of the time, if you fight hard enough, there will always be a way to obtain those wants. I suppose that could be true here as well, but I wonder how much fight a community can take. How much fight an individual can take before they give up and become comfortable in their reality. Contentment is a blessing. It also can be a curse. And we all far too often look for the easy way out.

I love Africa. It aches inside of me when I’m not here. I love the blessings I see through the people I meet. The kind and amazing spirits that welcome and embrace me when I arrive. When I struggle to learn their language, their culture, to not turn red and blow up like the other mazungos preceding me. I love the sound of thunder in the giant African sky and huge raindrops that fall upon the dry red soil. I love being part of a church service with singing and dancing that can go on for hours in total praise and faith in spite of current circumstances. They believe. They have faith. And they continue on in faith that some day they will be relieved of their sorrow and pain and suffering. Mozambique has an incredibly high death rate due to HIV/Aids and malaria. There isn’t a week that goes by that I don’t know of someone whose loved one has passed away. Not a week. Death is a part of life here. I hate Africa. I hate seeing the sorrow. Seeing the pain and frustration. The helplessness. The dependency that people have grown to entrust from the outside world. We are so far removed on some things and on others, there is this desperate plea, begging for any help that can be spared. It’s a learned desperation. The hard part is knowing whom to trust as genuine. Who is in need and who is out to get whatever they can because they can. The Good Samaritan does not exist here.

I suppose a love hate relationship is true of any good thing in life. It brings you to tears with struggles and tears with joy. It fuels passion inside and the choice of which way that is fueled is up to each individual. I have seven months left on my contract. I love being here. I also would love to come home. The truth is its never easy wherever I am. If I am here, I struggle with the here and now. If I am there, I struggle with wanting to be back here. The moments I am content are learned. They are the moments I stop on the street and wave to my colleague or grocer or favorite shopkeeper. They are moments I take to sit and watch the awesome orange sunset drop over the coconut trees and settle into the giant African sky. They are moments I am out in the field and working through two interpreters to speak with the local farmers. To feel the dirt between my fingers as we ask what is needed to produce more food this year. They are moments I walk through the villages with the red dust on my toes, the smell of smoke burning in the hot winter air and the sound of small children playing a game of soccer in a nearby field. They are moments I hold a small baby as she laughs and smiles up in awe at my glowing white face, touching me with her pudgy little fingers and giggling. I love Africa. But I am not African. The struggle of loving and hating a place at the same time will remain within me. I enjoy the fight on most days. There is so much beauty here. So much life. I am happy to make it a part of me.

christmas in Quelimane

I had a beautiful Christmas day here in Quelimane. There are several missionary groups represented here in this little African town. All working for different churches or mission organizations. Some families have been here five, ten, fifteen years. Their children have been born and grown up here; it is their only home. Missionaries sometimes scare me. They have a fearless mentality. And I’ve always found it difficult to relate to them at times. The families here in Quelimane are not like that. They are kind and welcoming and so far have not sat and argued their different theological beliefs with one another during a get together. I am still new to this town, so I don’t have all the inside dirt. But from what can be told on the outside and from time spent together, they are a family. A family who has taken me in from the first day I arrived and have been nothing but kind and generous and always looking out for me. I have been truly blessed with their acceptance.

We celebrated Christmas together at one of their homes just outside Quelimane. There must have been 30+ people there. It was a big family gathering and I felt at home. It was really nice. We had a bbq outside and lots of food to spoil ourselves. The afternoon was spent playing board games and card games and sharing what our families were doing at home on Christmas day. It was nice to know that others shared the loneliness and the sadness of missing the holiday with family. We could take comfort that we were not alone in that. :-) The day went by quickly. The Christmas story was read as we all gathered round. Coffee and dessert followed with group games that the adults and children played in together – the children loving that their minds were just a slight bit faster and sharper than their parents. :-) It was a beautiful Christmas day.

In the evening I joined four other Americans, the few of us younger singles in town and we happily shared in treasures that arrived in packages from the states, enjoyed sucking on candy canes and watched The Christmas Story. My friends had decorated their apartment to look like Christmas at home – paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling (hundreds of them!), flashing Christmas lights adorned the doorways and Christmas tree. It was a winter wonderland in a very hot African town!

And then later in the evening I shared in the laughter and surprises of my family as skype graciously stayed online and mom gave me the commentary of our annual gift opening on their Christmas morn. It was a beautiful Christmas!

my little african christmas tree

:-)

An innocent banter of the eyes never hurt anyone, right?

I smiled as I turned around. The two policemen I tried to walk past were calling out to me to stop. I hesitated, then turned around with a smile, bom dia, and a little banter of the eyes. I did not want to go to jail today!

It was raining. I was soaked head to toe. Two heavy grocery bags in hand. I tried out my little Portuguese for as long as I could carry the conversation, knowing that would help. The policeman seemed more interested in how I was doing than anything else. He wanted to know why I was in town, I said I lived here, what was I doing, working, where was I living, just up the street. I asked him the same questions. He smiled back. I tried not to show how nervous I was, as several of the other "white" people in town had been questioned and held in police custody for hours. All week police have been roaming the streets to check passports. I guess with the holiday season they have alot of people coming in without a visa. I have no idea how, as any place aside from Maputo is difficult to get to. Challenging to say the least. If a person was wondering around without a visa or valid passport, they'd have been wondering for days on end. Quelimane is not an easy place to arrive.

I kept smiling at the police officer. He practiced his little English with me and allowed me to walk home. I was more than thankful as my passport is currently being held with Immigration and I did not want to join it! I had a Christmas party to get to! :-)

(?)

what shoes do you where when its raining?

*tennis shoes get wet and keep your feet wet

*flip flops get slimy and slippery - dangerous!

*i have no other options :-)

any ideas? the majority of the community goes barefoot. but i remember my sister coming back from africa with a very scary foot fungus!

significant

There are moments in life that are so significant you don’t always know what to do with them. We all have them. Some are big and life changing; others are small and victorious to only oneself. And then there are those goosebump moments where time stands still and you can’t believe what you are seeing and feeling. All you know is that it is so significant you have to remember to breathe.

I am someone who needs to remind myself daily of the significant things to keep stepping forward. My defense at the moment is that I am living in a country outside of my own which functions on a completely different scale. It’s not better or worse, it’s just different (or so I continue to repeat to myself :-)). There is a four-month mark in a new job, a new location, which hits me hard and my frustration esculates to the point of near destruction. I want to quit. I don’t see the significance in continuing when things are so clearly askew with little hope in them changing. I realize I am the one that needs to change and therefore its time to move on. :-) Obviously, this is not the high road. So I remind myself of the significants in my life to put that next step forward in faith that there are more to come.

I am stepping forward. I apologize if my writings in the past month or so have been heavy with frustration or non-existent. I do still have moments within my day that I am overwhelmed with where I am and amazed at the many blessings that have brought me here. I love being in Africa. I love that I am a part of a bigger picture in the work that I am doing. I also have moments of being completely overwhelmed in a not so positive way and need to remind myself to breathe. :-) The daily struggles of living in a foreign land, not speaking the language or understanding the culture, adjusting to the heat and living conditions, are a lot to take. Thankfully, I only am asked to take one day at a time. My greatest struggle at the moment is the language barrier. I’m at a crossroads with my work. I need to speak and understand the Portuguese language to do my job well and I have not yet become fluent. I am practicing and studying. I find myself speaking it more and more unconsciously. And I am able to communicate past the morning greetings and saying please and thank you. I can understand most of what is said in a short meeting – if spoken slowly. These are my little victories each day. The significant at the moment is that I am still here. I haven’t quit. I am stepping forward. :-)

Quelimane

As promised…pics of Quelimane are now on flickr, http://www.flickr.com/photos/khunkristi

Enjoy! It’s a lovely little town. :-)

rain

The rainy season has started. This is good for the second season crops and to lesson the hunger season. We pray for no floods. I went to Zalala beach this past weekend and it was noticed on our way back to Quelimane that the fields have now been plowed and are ready to be planted; this was not the case two weeks ago. The farmers wait for the first rains to give them hope that their planted seeds will grow. I was hoping the rains would cool things down a bit – nope! Now it is like living in a steam room! But with full bellies on those that would otherwise go hungry. :-)

storm clouds rolling in...

the first puddle of the season - in front of my drive!

big white & fluffy

I enjoy the day flights and try to get a window seat whenever I can. Fluffy white clouds always make me think. It’s almost trance-like as I get lost in my thoughts. On this flight I was reminded of how blessed I am. How blessed my life has been and all the many things I have to be thankful for. I thought of my very first flight to Africa; it was 8 years ago. I would never have imagined all the places I have been and experiences I have now had in these past years following that first flight. I have so much to be thankful for. So many experiences, so many people in my life, so much opportunity.

The flight back from Maputo to Quelimane today, I am flying with a colleague’s wife and two young children. The kids are in the seats in front of me. I watch as the young boy looks wide-eyed out of the window and points out all that he sees. He is also very blessed. He is growing up in an English family in Africa. I often am asked if I want to raise my family overseas or if I’d want to go back to America. I don’t have an answer yet. There is something absolutely beautiful to watch children learn and grow to respect a culture outside of their own. They learn the language, make friends, and think no different of their home being here than somewhere else. They have this amazing opportunity to fly across the world and see so many things. But they also miss out on so much from their own culture and extended family life. Thankfully I don’t yet have to make a decision :-). I can just sit back and enjoy the wonder on this sweet boys face as he views the world beneath us, as we fly high above the big white and fluffy clouds.

They are awesome!