12/26/09
We ran with full steam as we came down the river 4 days ago. Now we’re wrapping up the excursion a little tired but much better than we came. I know I for one have a greater appreciation for the Amazonian people and other folks who live in similar cultures that must live off the land in such intimate ways. More than that, I appreciate even more the groups who find ways to maintain such cultural nuances while providing education and tools to make life even more sustainable in the ever-developing world. It’s a hard balance to find, but Yachana Lodge has done a good job meshing the two. There are still things that have to be dealt with such as plastic bottles or neighborhood dogs, but such issues can be handled after their thorough work with students at the ecotourism school, the fine lodging and touring experience for visitors and ever growing relationships with the surrounding people.
Today we went to the small market in the village. People bring all their wares in canoes including 50lbs. bags of coffee and cacao. These bags would probably go for $15-20 in Quito, but since only one man will come to purchase food in this remote community he only pays farmers $10 at best. I’ve never see the middleman in action, but I now understand the depth of the problem. These people have no other option except let their crops rot and family starve. As it is they will work extremely hard over the month to make just about $115 per month. Tourism and working for the oil companies makes lots of money. Oil makes up 60% of the GDP for Ecuador but even that work can be misleading since it’s temporary. A job with the oil companies might only be enough work for two weeks, and then a person is left to find another source of income.
We took the canoe to the other side of the river to walk to the Yachana high school and met a father and son who had ridden from the depths of the forest on a horse with three 50# bags of coffee. They would be lucky to leave with $20 that morning. The high school was very impressive with vast acres of land to produce crops for the students and Yachana Lodge, a fish farm, hydroelectric generator, HUGE pigs- I didn’t know they got so big- and a great system for the students including a full computer lab and library.
The evening closed with a new game- Cuarenta (40 in Spanish). It’s a great game but Avel kept making up, remembering, and forgetting rules so it was difficult to understand the game until it was over. He was funny with his trash talk and taunting. We played a tourney with the remaining guests. My dad and Avel dominated- Los Champions! He didn’t let us forget it and made sure it was part of the morning announcements at breakfast the next day. I can’t wait to teach this game though I printing out rules; they seem a little to fluid for my taste.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
and an owl monkey in a palm tree
Today started much earlier than most Christmases I remember. Only one other time was I up before 5am to see what Santa brought and I was 6. This morning found us at breakfast at 6am so we could catch the “taxi” to go across the “street.” In other words, we needed to take the canoe across the river in order to board the double-decker bus for bird watching. I wish I could say this was a highlight of the trip but unfortunately, I haven’t acquired the finer taste and patience to look for birds. I will say, however, that I was very impressed with Avel’s ability to see birds everywhere and name all of them without missing a beat. The binocular viewing ended when we reached the opening in the forest to go on another jungle hike. This time we found a tarantula and several very cool birds (that I did see) and Avel taught us how to survive in the jungle. We learned the proper way to make a shelter out of palm branches, which could convert into camouflage when hunting. He also wove a basket for my dad out of 2 small pieces of a palm branch. My dad now has a new water-bottle carrier, very handy and eco-friendly.
Lunch brought all 11 tourists together for a typical jungle meal cooking lesson. We prepared tilapia, cassava, yucca soup, and fired plantains. All this followed a most ridiculously insane part of the meal; grubs. The line from Lion King plays through my head even now, “Slimy yet satisfying.” And so they were. Yes, you guessed it. I was one of two lucky volunteers to take one for the team and eat a LIVE grub, it’s body pulsating in my finger until I chomped on its head and chewed the rest of the slimy and tasteless creature to more swallow-able size. Don’t worry- it’s on film. Following that, which includes lots of squealing and dancing about, everyone tried the grubs, cooked this time with salt. Funny though it sounds, Lion King came back to me with the line, “Are you achin’ for some bacon?” These cooked specimens tasted like bacon and most people rather enjoyed them. The final entrees were fab and again we went to our rooms for a well-deserved nap.
I woke up so excited for the next expedition: tubing down the river. While it’s similar to any tubing experience, the relaxing movement of the steady current felt good on my weary body (Somehow my lungs are expanding so much in the altitude that it’s causing muscle pain in my chest, or that’s what I’m saying at least.) Daniel and I swam a bit more before heading to the showers and then a night walk. Avel led us through the ridiculously dark forest to find a “friendly” scorpion that he insisted I put on my face. Man, I’m a sucker. No harm done though I was a bit startled when he started crawling down my hair. With his nocturnal eyes, Avel saw owl monkeys playing way up in the trees and pointed them out to us with his powerful flashlight. (PS- Another mag flashlight is on my Christmas list next year. Seems that Daniel has claimed mine.)
They served us a special Christmas dinner compete with Sangria, chicken and rice. Oh the familiar. A package of twinkle lights arrived just in time, so the staff put together a tree out of palm branches and birds of paradise for ornaments. It was a lovely evening with chocolate cake to send us to bed. Tomorrow is the after Christmas sale at the local market. We’ll see what kind of deals we can spring. Anyone need a bag of cacao seeds?
Lunch brought all 11 tourists together for a typical jungle meal cooking lesson. We prepared tilapia, cassava, yucca soup, and fired plantains. All this followed a most ridiculously insane part of the meal; grubs. The line from Lion King plays through my head even now, “Slimy yet satisfying.” And so they were. Yes, you guessed it. I was one of two lucky volunteers to take one for the team and eat a LIVE grub, it’s body pulsating in my finger until I chomped on its head and chewed the rest of the slimy and tasteless creature to more swallow-able size. Don’t worry- it’s on film. Following that, which includes lots of squealing and dancing about, everyone tried the grubs, cooked this time with salt. Funny though it sounds, Lion King came back to me with the line, “Are you achin’ for some bacon?” These cooked specimens tasted like bacon and most people rather enjoyed them. The final entrees were fab and again we went to our rooms for a well-deserved nap.
I woke up so excited for the next expedition: tubing down the river. While it’s similar to any tubing experience, the relaxing movement of the steady current felt good on my weary body (Somehow my lungs are expanding so much in the altitude that it’s causing muscle pain in my chest, or that’s what I’m saying at least.) Daniel and I swam a bit more before heading to the showers and then a night walk. Avel led us through the ridiculously dark forest to find a “friendly” scorpion that he insisted I put on my face. Man, I’m a sucker. No harm done though I was a bit startled when he started crawling down my hair. With his nocturnal eyes, Avel saw owl monkeys playing way up in the trees and pointed them out to us with his powerful flashlight. (PS- Another mag flashlight is on my Christmas list next year. Seems that Daniel has claimed mine.)
They served us a special Christmas dinner compete with Sangria, chicken and rice. Oh the familiar. A package of twinkle lights arrived just in time, so the staff put together a tree out of palm branches and birds of paradise for ornaments. It was a lovely evening with chocolate cake to send us to bed. Tomorrow is the after Christmas sale at the local market. We’ll see what kind of deals we can spring. Anyone need a bag of cacao seeds?
Two Poison Frogs
Not even 73 bug bites can dampen this Christmas. Not even torrential down pour and walking through mud. Not even a new jungle food to eat at every meal. This is a holiday to remember.
The last two days have been jam packed, yes indeed, with hikes through the dense rain forest, tubing down the Napo River, dancing with the locals, and eating very strange and crazy things. Yesterday (Dec. 24), we began the day with a hike through the rain forest where our guide, Avel, pointed out lots of flora and fauna, taught us to make a trap for a rabbit out of vines, and caught a poisonous frog for us to take pictures of. The rain came and since we were unprepared without ponchos, he helped us find jungle umbrellas, not hard with leaves the size of large pizzas. For the last hour of our hike, we trekked through the rain. Daniel and I even saw a five foot black snake which our guide promised he would have been able to catch had he send it.
Favorites birds:
Chachalaca- sounds like a chattering bird
Russet-backed Oropendola- it makes a sound with it’s wings that sounds like a high pitched drop of water falling into a pool
Following that excursion, a great meal, and much needed nap, we went to the Healer Man. The Healer Man and Shaman serve similar roles but the Shaman has more power and can only see 2-3 people a day since he has to smoke or take a hallucinogenic to get his power. Healer Men, on the other hand, heal people all day and night, those with “baby illnesses.” They also provide cleansing, eliminating bad energy and replacing it with good energy. The boys did the cleansing while Mom and I took pictures. Afterward, we practice blowing darts into a papaya and chucking spears into a banana stump. Each took their own bit of finesse but Daniel and I made 2 out of 3 tries at the papaya. I was the only one to hit the tree stump (thanks Whitworth T&F for preparing me with Javelin) to the amazement of everyone including our guide. He had called for a competition, but after I nailed the stump in the heart, he lost his nerve and missed. No hard feelings but it did make him think twice about who would be cooking dinner if the woman was out hunting.
The evening wrapped up with a visit with the community Mondana at their Christmas Eve celebration. As I’ve been told numerous times that Christmas is a month long party so all of December is the time to celebrate. So while it was fun to dance and drink last night, the community had celebrated this way many times before. Therefore, when we went over expecting lots of hoopla and a exciting party atmosphere, the 2 light bulb lit mud volleyball court was interesting. The DJ, while working with skipped discs on a super old sound system, still had a few drinks before manning his position, so the music stopped, started, sputtered, and hesitated all night long. I would be dancing in no particular way, mainly just moving my hips and feet a lot, and then have to stop mid-step to stay with the music. No problem though, I had fun dancing with the locals and Avel in the muddy dirt until I was too sweaty to stay and the DJ too drunk to play. All the while children were whirling around sparklers in joyous celebration. Que bueno!
The last two days have been jam packed, yes indeed, with hikes through the dense rain forest, tubing down the Napo River, dancing with the locals, and eating very strange and crazy things. Yesterday (Dec. 24), we began the day with a hike through the rain forest where our guide, Avel, pointed out lots of flora and fauna, taught us to make a trap for a rabbit out of vines, and caught a poisonous frog for us to take pictures of. The rain came and since we were unprepared without ponchos, he helped us find jungle umbrellas, not hard with leaves the size of large pizzas. For the last hour of our hike, we trekked through the rain. Daniel and I even saw a five foot black snake which our guide promised he would have been able to catch had he send it.
Favorites birds:
Chachalaca- sounds like a chattering bird
Russet-backed Oropendola- it makes a sound with it’s wings that sounds like a high pitched drop of water falling into a pool
Following that excursion, a great meal, and much needed nap, we went to the Healer Man. The Healer Man and Shaman serve similar roles but the Shaman has more power and can only see 2-3 people a day since he has to smoke or take a hallucinogenic to get his power. Healer Men, on the other hand, heal people all day and night, those with “baby illnesses.” They also provide cleansing, eliminating bad energy and replacing it with good energy. The boys did the cleansing while Mom and I took pictures. Afterward, we practice blowing darts into a papaya and chucking spears into a banana stump. Each took their own bit of finesse but Daniel and I made 2 out of 3 tries at the papaya. I was the only one to hit the tree stump (thanks Whitworth T&F for preparing me with Javelin) to the amazement of everyone including our guide. He had called for a competition, but after I nailed the stump in the heart, he lost his nerve and missed. No hard feelings but it did make him think twice about who would be cooking dinner if the woman was out hunting.
The evening wrapped up with a visit with the community Mondana at their Christmas Eve celebration. As I’ve been told numerous times that Christmas is a month long party so all of December is the time to celebrate. So while it was fun to dance and drink last night, the community had celebrated this way many times before. Therefore, when we went over expecting lots of hoopla and a exciting party atmosphere, the 2 light bulb lit mud volleyball court was interesting. The DJ, while working with skipped discs on a super old sound system, still had a few drinks before manning his position, so the music stopped, started, sputtered, and hesitated all night long. I would be dancing in no particular way, mainly just moving my hips and feet a lot, and then have to stop mid-step to stay with the music. No problem though, I had fun dancing with the locals and Avel in the muddy dirt until I was too sweaty to stay and the DJ too drunk to play. All the while children were whirling around sparklers in joyous celebration. Que bueno!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Juego de Futbol
The trip to the Napo Valley began today floating down the river. The Napo River is a tributary of the Amazon River with thick forests creating beautiful scenery. My parents bought a trip to the Yachana Lodge at a church auction so we get to spend Christmas like the natives (though not roughing it quite so much, we have toilets. There might be a few bugs too many for my roommate, however.)
Before floating down the river we took VIP airlines on a 30-minute flight to the town of Capo. The waiting area for this small airline is unlike any other that I’ve seen. You get your “in flight” snacks before you board the plane and with such accommodations, you can get cappuccino, fruit, cakes, and sandwiches all while sitting on comfy couches. As I said, the flight was short: the 45 people riding in a plane the size of commuter airlines, we were up and down without hassle. There wasn’t even a seat belt demonstration. If you don’t know it by now, ask your seat partner.
We packed very lightly as we didn’t know how big of a boat we would ride in down the river. Sorry, Kareen, I left most of my shoes at home. The fiberglass boat was quite comfortable for our 2.5-hour trek, 2 people wide and long enough for 10 people to lie end to end (do the math). We wore life jackets and held onto our hats as the motorized boat cruised upstream. The river is quite low right now so the driver/captain was very careful to navigate the rocky bed strewn with logs. Spider monkeys and fishermen waved to us along the way until we finally arrived at the lodge.
I will direct you to the website (yachana.com- very impressive) for the full picture of this place but essentially Yachana Lodge is a place dedicated to ecotourism and learning. In fact Yachana means “a place to learn” in the Quichua (a native) language. They have established a high school for technical training in ecotourism, sustainable agriculture, and environmentally friendly entrepreneurship. They have really connected with the community to establish sustainable living while maintaining a high quality atmosphere for others to come and visit and learn from the jungle.
Upon arrival we got a short briefing about the days ahead (breakfast between 6 and 7am!) and the keys to our room. I read just long enough to take a siesta. The rest served me well as our guide, Abel, took us to the butterfly lodge and then to the community. All is well when taking pictures is the main enterprise, but Abel invited me to play in the community soccer game. How could I say no? All my training with my ACC kids and uncles came in handy as I had a few decent crosses and almost a headed-in goal. I need work especially when running through mud, but all and all, it was a great time. Unfortunately our team lost 3-2 so we had to buy the other team 2 Cokes to share. Since they had about 17 people to our 10, I only hope the Cokes were shared equally. I was so wet from the humidity and muddy (again memories of ACC in NC flooded back), a shower was is order before dinner. Three courses later with an Amazon chocolate cake as the finale, I am ready for bed. The 10pm lights out won’t have to be enforced this week (10pm is when the generator shuts off). Even witha siesta in the daily schedule, rest is sure to come easy.
Before floating down the river we took VIP airlines on a 30-minute flight to the town of Capo. The waiting area for this small airline is unlike any other that I’ve seen. You get your “in flight” snacks before you board the plane and with such accommodations, you can get cappuccino, fruit, cakes, and sandwiches all while sitting on comfy couches. As I said, the flight was short: the 45 people riding in a plane the size of commuter airlines, we were up and down without hassle. There wasn’t even a seat belt demonstration. If you don’t know it by now, ask your seat partner.
We packed very lightly as we didn’t know how big of a boat we would ride in down the river. Sorry, Kareen, I left most of my shoes at home. The fiberglass boat was quite comfortable for our 2.5-hour trek, 2 people wide and long enough for 10 people to lie end to end (do the math). We wore life jackets and held onto our hats as the motorized boat cruised upstream. The river is quite low right now so the driver/captain was very careful to navigate the rocky bed strewn with logs. Spider monkeys and fishermen waved to us along the way until we finally arrived at the lodge.
I will direct you to the website (yachana.com- very impressive) for the full picture of this place but essentially Yachana Lodge is a place dedicated to ecotourism and learning. In fact Yachana means “a place to learn” in the Quichua (a native) language. They have established a high school for technical training in ecotourism, sustainable agriculture, and environmentally friendly entrepreneurship. They have really connected with the community to establish sustainable living while maintaining a high quality atmosphere for others to come and visit and learn from the jungle.
Upon arrival we got a short briefing about the days ahead (breakfast between 6 and 7am!) and the keys to our room. I read just long enough to take a siesta. The rest served me well as our guide, Abel, took us to the butterfly lodge and then to the community. All is well when taking pictures is the main enterprise, but Abel invited me to play in the community soccer game. How could I say no? All my training with my ACC kids and uncles came in handy as I had a few decent crosses and almost a headed-in goal. I need work especially when running through mud, but all and all, it was a great time. Unfortunately our team lost 3-2 so we had to buy the other team 2 Cokes to share. Since they had about 17 people to our 10, I only hope the Cokes were shared equally. I was so wet from the humidity and muddy (again memories of ACC in NC flooded back), a shower was is order before dinner. Three courses later with an Amazon chocolate cake as the finale, I am ready for bed. The 10pm lights out won’t have to be enforced this week (10pm is when the generator shuts off). Even witha siesta in the daily schedule, rest is sure to come easy.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Old Town
Old Town lies in the middle of several hills, at the base of the Panacilla and in between valleys. Here lie the beginnings of the city or at least the colonial period. A huge basilica lies at the center and its huge bell towers ring out the hour. We went inside toward the end of our visit and were surprised by the ornate-ness met with the modern commercialization of Christmas. Right behind the altar an extensive nativity scene complete with BLINKING Christmas lights. They were strung from the top balcony with the façade of Jesus all the way down to the floor around the manger.
We walked up and down the tights streets. The sidewalks are no wider than a 1.5 feet and the streets aren’t much larger than that. Of course, the drivers don’t know that as they continue to travel two wide and three if they can squeeze it. Of course, the buses take the right away…or the van that flipped a U at the top of a hill while 4 lanes of traffic looked and HONKED on as the drivers held their brakes, praying to save their transmissions.
The presidential palace is lovely with a yellow room, not mustard yellow though. It had a huge table, which would be great fun for dinner parties. The tour was a little less informative than other tours mainly because my Spanish wasn’t strong enough to interpret everything the guide said. My favorite part was the courtyard filled with about eight nativity scenes. They were made out natural products found in Ecuador including corn, cotton, and metals. Pretty impressive.
Finally, our tour took us to one of the highest hills, Panacilla, where the great Virgin looks over the city. There were also a few nativity characters to join her. They were 30 foot tall Magi and donkeys! Wow!
We walked up and down the tights streets. The sidewalks are no wider than a 1.5 feet and the streets aren’t much larger than that. Of course, the drivers don’t know that as they continue to travel two wide and three if they can squeeze it. Of course, the buses take the right away…or the van that flipped a U at the top of a hill while 4 lanes of traffic looked and HONKED on as the drivers held their brakes, praying to save their transmissions.
The presidential palace is lovely with a yellow room, not mustard yellow though. It had a huge table, which would be great fun for dinner parties. The tour was a little less informative than other tours mainly because my Spanish wasn’t strong enough to interpret everything the guide said. My favorite part was the courtyard filled with about eight nativity scenes. They were made out natural products found in Ecuador including corn, cotton, and metals. Pretty impressive.
Finally, our tour took us to one of the highest hills, Panacilla, where the great Virgin looks over the city. There were also a few nativity characters to join her. They were 30 foot tall Magi and donkeys! Wow!
Monday, December 21, 2009
la fiesta familia
Jorge befriended my folks when they came to visit last June. He has a cousin in Casper who taught my mom Spanish. So Jorge and my parents were excited to connect. Since that first meeting, Jorge became like family and introduced his friends and family and country. Jorge had been our chauffeur from the airport; in fact he stayed until 2am while we were stuck in Guayaquil and then came again the next day. So Sunday, we celebrated our arrival and the Christmas holiday with our new Ecuadorian family.
Jorge lived in the states for some time and speaks fairly good English but the rest of his family doesn’t. Especially Papi, he just speaks slower and louder. Sound familiar? But between my dad and I we were able to keep the conversation going, though my Spanish was rough. We talked about Casper and Quito, discussing the best parts of it all. I brought the Africa book I made so I got to show and tell about our trip. They loved the book and asked many questions about the people and costumes (ie the basutis worn for the wedding).
My mom made an excellent dinner of pasta and chicken with asparagus and salad. The fresh fruits and vegetables available in Quito make all meals quite enjoyable. Over dinner we discussed New Year’s Eve. Jorge was disappointed that I couldn’t stay for the New Year; he thought it poor planning and I really didn’t have a good excuse for getting back. There are many traditions with their holidays but this day has some pretty spectacular ones. For one, the men dress up as widows, skirts, wigs, and all, though the facial hair usually remains. Eek! In this outfit they panhandle from car to car which most people give into for the sheer fun of the day. People also make dolls out of sawdust in the images of various famous people such as the president, soccer teams, and actors. At midnight, the dolls are set on fire to symbolize the ending of one year and the beginning of another. Even if the soccer team was great, a new year brings new opportunities and groups to the forefront. Finally, people sometime dress up in yellow and red and run around town in joyous fun. The women are found usually in a yellow top bikini with red bottoms. Finally, I had an excuse as I had forgotten my suit at home. The ladies offered to take me shopping for such apparel so no excuses were left.
Finally we exchanged gifts. They gave Daniel and I pouches filled with candy, a traditional gift for children. My folks received a CD of Ecuadorian music and a bag of cosmetics (for my mom) including anti-wrinkle cream and deodorant. (Are they hinting at something.) My dad gave the family pictures of their reunion at the airport and other celebrations. They all enjoyed it very much. The evening came to an end maybe sooner than usual, but with the exertion in trying to remember Spanish and the long day for everyone. So the universal debate over who would take home certain leftovers commenced until we ended up with a key lime moose and they took the brownies. Oh such fun, even the clean up with Mamma Mia in the background. It was certainly of evening of Fiesta!
Jorge lived in the states for some time and speaks fairly good English but the rest of his family doesn’t. Especially Papi, he just speaks slower and louder. Sound familiar? But between my dad and I we were able to keep the conversation going, though my Spanish was rough. We talked about Casper and Quito, discussing the best parts of it all. I brought the Africa book I made so I got to show and tell about our trip. They loved the book and asked many questions about the people and costumes (ie the basutis worn for the wedding).
My mom made an excellent dinner of pasta and chicken with asparagus and salad. The fresh fruits and vegetables available in Quito make all meals quite enjoyable. Over dinner we discussed New Year’s Eve. Jorge was disappointed that I couldn’t stay for the New Year; he thought it poor planning and I really didn’t have a good excuse for getting back. There are many traditions with their holidays but this day has some pretty spectacular ones. For one, the men dress up as widows, skirts, wigs, and all, though the facial hair usually remains. Eek! In this outfit they panhandle from car to car which most people give into for the sheer fun of the day. People also make dolls out of sawdust in the images of various famous people such as the president, soccer teams, and actors. At midnight, the dolls are set on fire to symbolize the ending of one year and the beginning of another. Even if the soccer team was great, a new year brings new opportunities and groups to the forefront. Finally, people sometime dress up in yellow and red and run around town in joyous fun. The women are found usually in a yellow top bikini with red bottoms. Finally, I had an excuse as I had forgotten my suit at home. The ladies offered to take me shopping for such apparel so no excuses were left.
Finally we exchanged gifts. They gave Daniel and I pouches filled with candy, a traditional gift for children. My folks received a CD of Ecuadorian music and a bag of cosmetics (for my mom) including anti-wrinkle cream and deodorant. (Are they hinting at something.) My dad gave the family pictures of their reunion at the airport and other celebrations. They all enjoyed it very much. The evening came to an end maybe sooner than usual, but with the exertion in trying to remember Spanish and the long day for everyone. So the universal debate over who would take home certain leftovers commenced until we ended up with a key lime moose and they took the brownies. Oh such fun, even the clean up with Mamma Mia in the background. It was certainly of evening of Fiesta!
la familia de la manana
Sunday was dedicated to the family from that of the Holy Mother Mary at church to Jorge and folks at dinner. The morning began early with a visit to Advent St. Nicholas Church, a small international, English-speaking church. My father and I sang in the choir complete with a seven-minute rehearsal before the service. Then the Marken family recited the Advent Lighting reading as Daniel and I lit the four candles. Yes, indeed only a few more days until Christmas; no more candles to light but Christ’s! The service was enjoyable and certainly traditional but amazingly ecumenical. People from all over the world and from various faith backgrounds participated in worship and the cookie/coffee hour afterward.
I really appreciated the “Adult Forum” after church that focused in part on discussing the results of Coppenhagen. I have a good idea of various effects climate change is affecting my friends in East Africa, but the weather reports and dire circumstances of this Latin American country are just as grave. One gentleman offered an article by a Chilean editor who stated that climate control had to start much deeper than mere practices and reductions of production. The change must come with an attitude change about growth. The idea and goal of growth is causing ever-higher amounts of pollution. Why do we seek to grow when sustainability might be just as beneficial to our lives and more so in time to come? From here we must think about reaching a happy medium by finding a level of sustainability for “developing” nations and an acceptable compromise for those who over produce. The world “developing” is even a misnomer and cause for confusion if sustainability is a new goal. How far does a nation need to develop? How much motivation and self-worth does development and growth provide?
After church and the multiple conversations with diplomats, retired engineers turned photographers, and schoolteachers, we traveled north to the equator. Traveling is unique anywhere I travel. Even folks from Spokane, a wintery city, have a much different mindset than those in the winter-windyland of Casper. Picture Quito as a cross between San Francisco and Kigali, Rwanda. There are tremendously steep inclines that wind around and around the various hills of Quito. Taxis do not mind such topographical challenges though; they go 60 mph regardless, up or down the hills. Thankfully, taxis do not include motorcyclist, or not many, so only a few brave souls swerve in and out of traffic. Stop signs read PARE, which in theory read STOP but in reality mean HONK or SPEED UP. Even the buses, which have their own lane, go mock speed until 3 meters before the bus stop. If one is not holding on to a rail or seating down with hands braced, one’s face would be kissing the windshield, or 20 of your new, closest friends. Finally, though the roads are good and traffic moves fairly smoothly from lane to lane (open space to open space) the rationing of electricity created automatic gridlock. I think the police guard hired on 25 new officers just to man the major intersections and direct traffic.
So we traveled in a friend’s car to the equator, enjoyed a buffet of traditional Ecuadorian food including plantains, cold shrimp/tomato soup, and fresh avocados. Don’t worry RU, they had potatoes and rice, too, so you and Daniel could have had a pleasant meal together. (I skipped the flan.) Oddly enough, we saw another family from our delayed airline enjoying the buffet. I didn’t say hi but I somehow felt like recommending a dish to my flying companions. The equator has a large monument with a world on top and several dozen touristy, market shops around. The equator must create a magnet between “local” art and me because I bought my first Ecuadorian purchase at a lovely gallery. We took a long taxi ride home in time for a bit of down time then dinner prep. Oh my dinner!
I really appreciated the “Adult Forum” after church that focused in part on discussing the results of Coppenhagen. I have a good idea of various effects climate change is affecting my friends in East Africa, but the weather reports and dire circumstances of this Latin American country are just as grave. One gentleman offered an article by a Chilean editor who stated that climate control had to start much deeper than mere practices and reductions of production. The change must come with an attitude change about growth. The idea and goal of growth is causing ever-higher amounts of pollution. Why do we seek to grow when sustainability might be just as beneficial to our lives and more so in time to come? From here we must think about reaching a happy medium by finding a level of sustainability for “developing” nations and an acceptable compromise for those who over produce. The world “developing” is even a misnomer and cause for confusion if sustainability is a new goal. How far does a nation need to develop? How much motivation and self-worth does development and growth provide?
After church and the multiple conversations with diplomats, retired engineers turned photographers, and schoolteachers, we traveled north to the equator. Traveling is unique anywhere I travel. Even folks from Spokane, a wintery city, have a much different mindset than those in the winter-windyland of Casper. Picture Quito as a cross between San Francisco and Kigali, Rwanda. There are tremendously steep inclines that wind around and around the various hills of Quito. Taxis do not mind such topographical challenges though; they go 60 mph regardless, up or down the hills. Thankfully, taxis do not include motorcyclist, or not many, so only a few brave souls swerve in and out of traffic. Stop signs read PARE, which in theory read STOP but in reality mean HONK or SPEED UP. Even the buses, which have their own lane, go mock speed until 3 meters before the bus stop. If one is not holding on to a rail or seating down with hands braced, one’s face would be kissing the windshield, or 20 of your new, closest friends. Finally, though the roads are good and traffic moves fairly smoothly from lane to lane (open space to open space) the rationing of electricity created automatic gridlock. I think the police guard hired on 25 new officers just to man the major intersections and direct traffic.
So we traveled in a friend’s car to the equator, enjoyed a buffet of traditional Ecuadorian food including plantains, cold shrimp/tomato soup, and fresh avocados. Don’t worry RU, they had potatoes and rice, too, so you and Daniel could have had a pleasant meal together. (I skipped the flan.) Oddly enough, we saw another family from our delayed airline enjoying the buffet. I didn’t say hi but I somehow felt like recommending a dish to my flying companions. The equator has a large monument with a world on top and several dozen touristy, market shops around. The equator must create a magnet between “local” art and me because I bought my first Ecuadorian purchase at a lovely gallery. We took a long taxi ride home in time for a bit of down time then dinner prep. Oh my dinner!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Today: as GOOD as it's been
Safe and sound. Oh it feels good to be in one place. As we flew over Quito, Ecuador, it reminded me of the bananas the country is so famous for exporting. It’s a long, long city but about only 4 miles wide. All the while, the rolling hills and surrounding mountains/volcanoes popped out of the clouds like the bowl rim of a banana split. Quito is quite green these days even though the current drizzle, overcast weather is “as bad as it’s been,” at least since my folks arrived in August. As bad as it’s been was a common phrase today about the weather, mora berries which were unusually tart, and quiet on the sidewalks and streets due to the absence of vendors. I’m sure Daniel and I will get to experience all of these nuances in their full splendor. All these attributes would have paled in comparison to seeing our folks anyway, so it was fine to experience them in low light in the beginning.
Our friend Jorge picked us up from the airport though this city has as many yellow taxis as NYC. Jorge was with my parents until all hours of the night yesterday and even brought me roses and Daniel a birthday cake. I’m sorry we had to disappoint them with our late arrival but spirits were just as high when we touched down and walked through the gate. In fact, the whole plane erupted into applause when the plane landed in Quito. Relief finally.
I saw an interesting advertisement that had two cops holding the arms of a bag guy with money falling out of his pockets. It said “Dile no al lavado…” I came to understand it as a warning advertisement that the government takes money laundering seriously. I know lavado was wash so I patted myself on the back for connecting the dots. I saw Toys R Us as Mi Jugueteria! (The R is backwards in that one too!) All the while back from the airport to my parent’s casa my dad played the tour guide. And quite a job he did! I now know how to figure out north and south, so long as I can see the Pichincha (an active volcano) or take Amazonas street. I know the area where streets are named after the different Galapagos Islands. I also appreciate the beautiful flower stands along the way. I found fresh roses in both my room and bathroom because they are super cheap. 12 roses: 1 dollar!
Highlights for the day include:
* Eating fresh fruit.
* Greeting all the guards I met in Spanish and them practically jumping out of their chairs to shake my hand.
* Having waffles for dinner and then birthday cake.
* Chatting with my mom on my blow up bed.
* Resting assured that we’re all together in a good place.
Our friend Jorge picked us up from the airport though this city has as many yellow taxis as NYC. Jorge was with my parents until all hours of the night yesterday and even brought me roses and Daniel a birthday cake. I’m sorry we had to disappoint them with our late arrival but spirits were just as high when we touched down and walked through the gate. In fact, the whole plane erupted into applause when the plane landed in Quito. Relief finally.
I saw an interesting advertisement that had two cops holding the arms of a bag guy with money falling out of his pockets. It said “Dile no al lavado…” I came to understand it as a warning advertisement that the government takes money laundering seriously. I know lavado was wash so I patted myself on the back for connecting the dots. I saw Toys R Us as Mi Jugueteria! (The R is backwards in that one too!) All the while back from the airport to my parent’s casa my dad played the tour guide. And quite a job he did! I now know how to figure out north and south, so long as I can see the Pichincha (an active volcano) or take Amazonas street. I know the area where streets are named after the different Galapagos Islands. I also appreciate the beautiful flower stands along the way. I found fresh roses in both my room and bathroom because they are super cheap. 12 roses: 1 dollar!
Highlights for the day include:
* Eating fresh fruit.
* Greeting all the guards I met in Spanish and them practically jumping out of their chairs to shake my hand.
* Having waffles for dinner and then birthday cake.
* Chatting with my mom on my blow up bed.
* Resting assured that we’re all together in a good place.
Friday, December 18, 2009
landing...wait
If I thought I had missed flying, my knees are reminding me that in fact I do not. Especially when final destinations are circled around for 30 minutes and then avoided all together. The monitors show the temperature and flight level which is cool until I realized that the 75 degrees was decreasing rapidly with altitude. It didn’t take a chemistry degree to realize we were headed up and out. The pilot took us south to Guayaquil to refuel and reassess our situation. The fog had prevented our landing and lack of fuel had kept us from circling a couple times. Four hours on a plane is no big deal in the grand scheme of things but when 4 turns to 6 or 7 (still up in the air ☺) the body turns cranky.
In order to content us on the ground during the refuel and wait since we couldn’t leave the plane, the flight attendants offered a movie. I thought I hope we’re not here long enough to finish this movie. Well their video system is so “sophisticated” it didn’t allow us to watch a film. I should say any show apart from the “Welcome to Flying…please fasten your seatbelt…”
And they had promised GI Joe. Bummer!
The day is still young, it’s only 9:34 PST but by time I finally hug the parents, it will be tomorrow and we’ll all be ready to fall over into bed. I picture them waiting like little puppies for the owners to come home, only to fall asleep on the rug until the garage door opens. We’re still on the ground in our “temporary” stop. I hope that’s the case though a recent phone call from the folks is a bit discouraging. They walked outside but couldn’t see through the fog in front of them.
Status update soon?
Yes- I write the final bit from a hotel in our “temporary” stop. It’s a night’s rest that will certainly be too short and not really restful with the knowledge we’re a mere 20-minute flight from our original destination. It’s like landing in Coeur d’Alene and not being able to get to Spokane. I might attempt to drive it but our bags are locked up in the airplane since we have yet to go through customs. And I hear the roads are crazy crooked. And really who wants to rent a car in Spanish at 2am.
It’s a good thing I have a toothbrush with me.
In order to content us on the ground during the refuel and wait since we couldn’t leave the plane, the flight attendants offered a movie. I thought I hope we’re not here long enough to finish this movie. Well their video system is so “sophisticated” it didn’t allow us to watch a film. I should say any show apart from the “Welcome to Flying…please fasten your seatbelt…”
And they had promised GI Joe. Bummer!
The day is still young, it’s only 9:34 PST but by time I finally hug the parents, it will be tomorrow and we’ll all be ready to fall over into bed. I picture them waiting like little puppies for the owners to come home, only to fall asleep on the rug until the garage door opens. We’re still on the ground in our “temporary” stop. I hope that’s the case though a recent phone call from the folks is a bit discouraging. They walked outside but couldn’t see through the fog in front of them.
Status update soon?
Yes- I write the final bit from a hotel in our “temporary” stop. It’s a night’s rest that will certainly be too short and not really restful with the knowledge we’re a mere 20-minute flight from our original destination. It’s like landing in Coeur d’Alene and not being able to get to Spokane. I might attempt to drive it but our bags are locked up in the airplane since we have yet to go through customs. And I hear the roads are crazy crooked. And really who wants to rent a car in Spanish at 2am.
It’s a good thing I have a toothbrush with me.
ALL i have is a stable
After directing another great Christmas Pageant at church with children of various ages and abilities, several big things popped out at me. Mary probably did wear rainbow-striped tights so long as they made them big enough for her belly. Joseph would have tried with all his might to provide the best care for Mary even if that meant holding hands with the donkey as they made their way to Bethlehem. Angels were probably dancing and skipping all around the shepherds intensifying their confusion and fear. And the Innkeeper would have given his room had he known who was staying in with his cows (even if his wife was a cranky old lady, a foot taller than him and with a formidable voice).
On the Inn and stable I focus these thoughts because I am currently experiencing housing issues. In the last week both of my roommates are moving or want to move out. Since there is no required lease, their departure could leave me with an empty inn and much lighter wallet. Joseph had a different problem as he tried to provide for his bride. No one had room. I’m sure he would have given a whole wad of bills for a space after such a long trip. But they were contented with a stable. The stable provided shelter away from wind and a bit of company, all be it bleating sheep. What Joseph did provide was a trust, comfort and bedside manner that allowed his new child and wife to rest as peacefully as if they were in a Hilton. In the end, this meager accommodation acted as the perfect backdrop for God’s major production of bringing his son into the world.
The parallels between Joseph’s story and mine are more like perpendiculars, but I think a lesson can be learned in both situations. We often focus on what we don’t have, the nice room, the money to pay for housing, and the roommates to make housing affordable. Instead, how can I look at this situation like Joseph and ask, “What can I do with ALL that I have?” I’m still wondering about my place. I’m sure roommates will show up and the house will again be filled with beautiful life. For now, I have a place where I can host others, have huge card games on the floor, and even provide space for those who need a quiet place. I also have an opportunity to reevaluate my “inn” situation and see if ALL that I have is being used in the best way. What I know from my incredible actors and Joseph is that ALL that we are and have is always more than all we don’t.
On the Inn and stable I focus these thoughts because I am currently experiencing housing issues. In the last week both of my roommates are moving or want to move out. Since there is no required lease, their departure could leave me with an empty inn and much lighter wallet. Joseph had a different problem as he tried to provide for his bride. No one had room. I’m sure he would have given a whole wad of bills for a space after such a long trip. But they were contented with a stable. The stable provided shelter away from wind and a bit of company, all be it bleating sheep. What Joseph did provide was a trust, comfort and bedside manner that allowed his new child and wife to rest as peacefully as if they were in a Hilton. In the end, this meager accommodation acted as the perfect backdrop for God’s major production of bringing his son into the world.
The parallels between Joseph’s story and mine are more like perpendiculars, but I think a lesson can be learned in both situations. We often focus on what we don’t have, the nice room, the money to pay for housing, and the roommates to make housing affordable. Instead, how can I look at this situation like Joseph and ask, “What can I do with ALL that I have?” I’m still wondering about my place. I’m sure roommates will show up and the house will again be filled with beautiful life. For now, I have a place where I can host others, have huge card games on the floor, and even provide space for those who need a quiet place. I also have an opportunity to reevaluate my “inn” situation and see if ALL that I have is being used in the best way. What I know from my incredible actors and Joseph is that ALL that we are and have is always more than all we don’t.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Batteries Included
Back when I was seven, I watched cartoons every Saturday morning. Usually Garfield, the Smurfs and Looney Tunes were the shows to see- at least that’s what I can remember. Of course, each of these entertaining shows came with a set of commercials all geared to ME! And the Christmas purchasing season became very apparent as new toys advertised that latest gadget, fun accessory and sweet moves. Power Wheels always fascinated me, and since I didn’t learn to drive when I was twelve as others friends did since they lived on a ranch, I dreamt of having one. But at the same time I knew that dream was a Huge long shot so I aimed for other great gifts like games, ice skates, Simon and a Sega or Game boy. The last could have driven the Power Wheels to my bed, that’s how possible getting such a gift was in my family. But I dreamt- Sonic the Hedgehog dancing in my head.
The commercials confused me, too. I would always hear, “Batteries not included.” I use to think that meant the toy didn’t require batteries so I felt reassured that it might make Santa’s list for my house since there was less hassle. I don’t recall the moment it dawned on me that the not included meant not included but NEEDED. Oh. That’s silly. The toy isn’t complete in it’s package? Other parts are still necessary? Why sell something that is only half there, when the toy is better in the box because it can’t do anything there or can’t NOT doing anything too. In a box it was still a wrapped gift- inaccessible and unknown to its fullest capacity.
Just tonight it dawned on me that batteries WERE included in me, that’s how God packaged me and intended me to BE in the world. In fact, I’m the whole package just like this. The more I’m “played” with and taken for show and tell, the more real and known I am to the owner. Like in Toy Story, Andy gets to know how Woody moves and rides horses and reacts to a snake in his boot. And through the creative genius of that story, we get to see how a toy might come to know its owner. That’s important- to know God and for God to know us. He knows what he gets with each breath.
More importantly, though, is the reassurance and stamp of approval we have being a complete toy- the whole package. Some people might say that we’re missing something- the box falsely advertised. “This piece is broken.” “This piece is old and worn out.” “This isn’t good enough for me.” God did not, does not, and will not think that we were not made just right for him. He won’t say one day, “Oh, I need another one to replace this one.” Nor will he think, “If only this one had one more talent such as a beautiful singing voice, then she would be perfect.” He fashioned us as a whole package just as he had wanted. So with that we can throw off the wrapping paper and fling ourselves into the opportunities that God has made for us, each one unique and each one a Whole Package.
The commercials confused me, too. I would always hear, “Batteries not included.” I use to think that meant the toy didn’t require batteries so I felt reassured that it might make Santa’s list for my house since there was less hassle. I don’t recall the moment it dawned on me that the not included meant not included but NEEDED. Oh. That’s silly. The toy isn’t complete in it’s package? Other parts are still necessary? Why sell something that is only half there, when the toy is better in the box because it can’t do anything there or can’t NOT doing anything too. In a box it was still a wrapped gift- inaccessible and unknown to its fullest capacity.
Just tonight it dawned on me that batteries WERE included in me, that’s how God packaged me and intended me to BE in the world. In fact, I’m the whole package just like this. The more I’m “played” with and taken for show and tell, the more real and known I am to the owner. Like in Toy Story, Andy gets to know how Woody moves and rides horses and reacts to a snake in his boot. And through the creative genius of that story, we get to see how a toy might come to know its owner. That’s important- to know God and for God to know us. He knows what he gets with each breath.
More importantly, though, is the reassurance and stamp of approval we have being a complete toy- the whole package. Some people might say that we’re missing something- the box falsely advertised. “This piece is broken.” “This piece is old and worn out.” “This isn’t good enough for me.” God did not, does not, and will not think that we were not made just right for him. He won’t say one day, “Oh, I need another one to replace this one.” Nor will he think, “If only this one had one more talent such as a beautiful singing voice, then she would be perfect.” He fashioned us as a whole package just as he had wanted. So with that we can throw off the wrapping paper and fling ourselves into the opportunities that God has made for us, each one unique and each one a Whole Package.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Fertilizing
My commute use to take me by rolling fields of wheat. Golden in the sun and dark brown dirt in the fall fog and rains. I often visit the farms on Greenbluff to enjoy the rich plethora of apples, peaches, more apples and veggies like pumpkins, squash and corn. And now, I rarely commute more than five minutes from any one place and in that, it’s a see of traffic on a four-lane highway. However, I recently started a book called Omnivore’s Dilemma which begins with a tale of such farm land as I use to see. The author tracks four different routes by which Americans get their food, industrial (twice over), organic and hunting and gathering. He started with the process that most of us partake in: the industrial route of the dominating crop of z-maize: Corn.
He proceeds to outline how the government subsidizes the American farmer to make more and more corn beyond the demand and even beyond the possibility of consumption. He spoke of farmers using twice as much fertilizer on crops as a way of insurance to make sure they yield the largest harvest possible. The ongoing goal to produce more and more depletes the ground of nutrients, causes a great deal of erosion, and pollutes the air and water with the overabundance of contaminating fertilizers and pesticides. And yet, despite all their efforts or any growth in production, these farmers can barely make enough to support themselves. Many work extra jobs, live off a spouse’s income and hope that a great yield measured against always dropping prices will even out in the end, though it rarely does.
I drive through fields and pick fruit for fun. I realized that the farmers worked hard and that many uncontrollable forces effected their work and income, but I had no idea how that affected the typical consumer. I never realized we all pay the price in taxes to keep this process rolling and pay an even higher price just so we can have the level of comfort and choice we have. Nearly half of the 45,000 different products in a typical grocery store have corn in it. Check the label: the corn chips, linoleum on the floor (corn is part of the material base), wax that keeps the fruit shiny, spices, hamburger (what do they eat), even Twinkies. Ok- corn won’t be on the label but the various chemical names like glucona delta lactone and mono- and di-glycerides for processed Type 2 corn touches almost everything.
Well, to move to a tangent and really the deeper thoughts behind this newly gained knowledge, I speak on the words of Paul. I read in his second letter to the Corinthians that those who sow generously will reap generously.
“Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly, so that in all thins at all time, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work…Now he who supplies see to the sewer and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of righteousness” (v. 6-8,10).
What struck me about this verse is that God will bless the efforts of those who respond to Him in obedience in accordance to what we have promised to give. We are not told to invest with time, treasure and talents, and then if efforts don’t materialize immediately, throw a little bit extra of our own “fertilizer” to make crops grow. God did not say that He will provide x amount of yield but we have to come up with a way to make more. He’s not even asking for more. He’s asking for what we have promised to give and He will richly bless that. Our fertilizer is not really what the world needs more of, kind of like having corn in ice cream seems weird and unnatural. It’s God’s own strength, glory, and perfection that need to infiltrate everything. It’s God that needs to be on every label, because with that assurance, one does not have to worry about who or what is being exploited- it’s not happening. Our best efforts and good-intentions are still tainted with imperfections. That’s not to say we should not sow or even “fertilize” with our personality and gifts. It means that we should put forward our best for God, but not assume that only our efforts will reap a harvest. God “supplies the seed” and will “enlarge the harvest.”
He proceeds to outline how the government subsidizes the American farmer to make more and more corn beyond the demand and even beyond the possibility of consumption. He spoke of farmers using twice as much fertilizer on crops as a way of insurance to make sure they yield the largest harvest possible. The ongoing goal to produce more and more depletes the ground of nutrients, causes a great deal of erosion, and pollutes the air and water with the overabundance of contaminating fertilizers and pesticides. And yet, despite all their efforts or any growth in production, these farmers can barely make enough to support themselves. Many work extra jobs, live off a spouse’s income and hope that a great yield measured against always dropping prices will even out in the end, though it rarely does.
I drive through fields and pick fruit for fun. I realized that the farmers worked hard and that many uncontrollable forces effected their work and income, but I had no idea how that affected the typical consumer. I never realized we all pay the price in taxes to keep this process rolling and pay an even higher price just so we can have the level of comfort and choice we have. Nearly half of the 45,000 different products in a typical grocery store have corn in it. Check the label: the corn chips, linoleum on the floor (corn is part of the material base), wax that keeps the fruit shiny, spices, hamburger (what do they eat), even Twinkies. Ok- corn won’t be on the label but the various chemical names like glucona delta lactone and mono- and di-glycerides for processed Type 2 corn touches almost everything.
Well, to move to a tangent and really the deeper thoughts behind this newly gained knowledge, I speak on the words of Paul. I read in his second letter to the Corinthians that those who sow generously will reap generously.
“Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly, so that in all thins at all time, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work…Now he who supplies see to the sewer and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of righteousness” (v. 6-8,10).
What struck me about this verse is that God will bless the efforts of those who respond to Him in obedience in accordance to what we have promised to give. We are not told to invest with time, treasure and talents, and then if efforts don’t materialize immediately, throw a little bit extra of our own “fertilizer” to make crops grow. God did not say that He will provide x amount of yield but we have to come up with a way to make more. He’s not even asking for more. He’s asking for what we have promised to give and He will richly bless that. Our fertilizer is not really what the world needs more of, kind of like having corn in ice cream seems weird and unnatural. It’s God’s own strength, glory, and perfection that need to infiltrate everything. It’s God that needs to be on every label, because with that assurance, one does not have to worry about who or what is being exploited- it’s not happening. Our best efforts and good-intentions are still tainted with imperfections. That’s not to say we should not sow or even “fertilize” with our personality and gifts. It means that we should put forward our best for God, but not assume that only our efforts will reap a harvest. God “supplies the seed” and will “enlarge the harvest.”
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Fact Finding
I have a couple friends who just took off for Ethiopia this past Saturday. I am so excited for them. In fact I’m not sure I’ve ever been more juiced about people going oversees or on a mission before, except for my own folks who are LIVING on another continent. But that’s for another posting. This is about A&A. The couple who left their four children back in Spokane to follow God’s nudging to seek him out and gather information for home. It’s a fact finding trip…on the surface.
Fact finding is always as deep as a person is willing to search. Wikipedia has become the new and easiest source of information and as someone I know says, “If it’s on the internet, it must be true.” One can Google anything and have so many options (so long as the search word is spelled correctly) that a few clicks can take you to depths you had no idea existed. And yet even with the millions of pages and links that Google provides, it can’t compare to information gleaned from a conversation with a new friend who lives in the street on the other side of the world. Google that!
A&A emailed an update of their trip and described the stimulation and ever dousing newness of a new culture and place so well.
“Filtering everything through an American mindset does not work, our culture, sense of human rights, etc. can't process it all, and like a computer operating system loaded with programs it's not designed to handle, your mind and heart can crash. I believe that filtering everything through the timeless Word of God and praying for discernment is the best way to process the sights, sounds, smells that are Ethiopia.”
That’s a great description with the computer and worth a whole other blog, yet for now, something else profound popped out at me in that statement. “Filtering through the timeless (and may I add boundary-less) Word of God…best way to process.” As I mentioned, we often use a search engine or even an encyclopedia or book to filter our questions and theories. Those are good and useful but how often do we start with or even consider the Bible as a search engine? I am utterly guilty of overlooking it, especially with the important matters. So it’s great to be reminded by those who are experiencing new things and senses every moment. Our lives can become mundane, routine and unsurprising which in turn slows or ceases any search we might be on. Stimulation runs dry. We aren’t moved to know something new or simply forgotten.
Fact finding in Ethiopia will focus the trip for A&A, though if they could tangibly load those facts, I’m not sure they could carry all the bags. But I’m so grateful for their fact finding because not only will it impact me, their children, and the church when they share the stories, but it’s challenging me right now to seek and find. Find the facts that God has set for me here and now, to know, embrace and use.
From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. 'For in him we live and move and have our being.' As some of your own poets have said, 'We are his offspring.' Acts 17: 26-28
Fact finding is always as deep as a person is willing to search. Wikipedia has become the new and easiest source of information and as someone I know says, “If it’s on the internet, it must be true.” One can Google anything and have so many options (so long as the search word is spelled correctly) that a few clicks can take you to depths you had no idea existed. And yet even with the millions of pages and links that Google provides, it can’t compare to information gleaned from a conversation with a new friend who lives in the street on the other side of the world. Google that!
A&A emailed an update of their trip and described the stimulation and ever dousing newness of a new culture and place so well.
“Filtering everything through an American mindset does not work, our culture, sense of human rights, etc. can't process it all, and like a computer operating system loaded with programs it's not designed to handle, your mind and heart can crash. I believe that filtering everything through the timeless Word of God and praying for discernment is the best way to process the sights, sounds, smells that are Ethiopia.”
That’s a great description with the computer and worth a whole other blog, yet for now, something else profound popped out at me in that statement. “Filtering through the timeless (and may I add boundary-less) Word of God…best way to process.” As I mentioned, we often use a search engine or even an encyclopedia or book to filter our questions and theories. Those are good and useful but how often do we start with or even consider the Bible as a search engine? I am utterly guilty of overlooking it, especially with the important matters. So it’s great to be reminded by those who are experiencing new things and senses every moment. Our lives can become mundane, routine and unsurprising which in turn slows or ceases any search we might be on. Stimulation runs dry. We aren’t moved to know something new or simply forgotten.
Fact finding in Ethiopia will focus the trip for A&A, though if they could tangibly load those facts, I’m not sure they could carry all the bags. But I’m so grateful for their fact finding because not only will it impact me, their children, and the church when they share the stories, but it’s challenging me right now to seek and find. Find the facts that God has set for me here and now, to know, embrace and use.
From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. 'For in him we live and move and have our being.' As some of your own poets have said, 'We are his offspring.' Acts 17: 26-28
Bad Cat!
What to do with a bad cat?
I have a roommate that acquired a cat right before I moved in about a month ago. I’m not sure I would have made the move under these conditions, but life takes unexpected twists which in turn requires a bit of flexibility. So anyway I live with a cat. Or should I say, we sometimes share space, large areas of space. I haven’t bonded enough to cuddle with the cat in bed or even touch it with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole. While Cat seems an efficient name for this story, her real name is so rare that it’s worth mentioning. Anomaly, Anna for short.
With any being that can choose between right and wrong, a parent must teach the being through modeling and discipline. Now I don’t expect the owner of this cat to play with strings to demonstrate good play and spank the cat for climbing on the table. But boundaries must be established. Well, not being a former cat owner- shocker I know- I was not aware that a common discipline tool is a squirt bottle with water. The cat crosses a line and SQUIRT! Inconsistency in the rules and discipline (mainly due to misplacing said bottle) has not led to proper behavior, but I try my best to provide that consistency.
Well recently a pink bottle showed up in the kitchen. Previously a blue water bottle followed the cat, but as I mentioned, it could not always be located. Well, the new pink bottle gave me hope that perhaps we were taking a more intentional stand against “bad cat behavior” by having multiple squirt bottles. Tonight the cat was all over the place. Flying from one chair to another, trying to climb my pant leg and walk across the table. I counted to 10 the first time but then the pink bottle came out. BAD CAT- SQUIRT!
All cat-lovers, do not report me to PETA. I’m kind and only following after the cat owner's actions. Or so I thought. The last direct hit came after a bunch of circus acts on and off the table and my fuse went. A few sprays and the cat ran off. Job well done until I hear, “That’s cooking oil!”
WHAT!?!
Unbelievable. No wonder the cat slid all over the floor and down the banister. It was being greased. Thankfully the cat isn’t a pyro because she would have gone up in flames. But of course, I immediately thought a bubble bath would be a good idea. Why not? I’m sure that would get the point across. No cats walking on the table, climbing in the dishwasher or fridge, scratching its way up my back. Yes, a bath. It’s a great place to clear the mind and set it straight.
I have a roommate that acquired a cat right before I moved in about a month ago. I’m not sure I would have made the move under these conditions, but life takes unexpected twists which in turn requires a bit of flexibility. So anyway I live with a cat. Or should I say, we sometimes share space, large areas of space. I haven’t bonded enough to cuddle with the cat in bed or even touch it with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole. While Cat seems an efficient name for this story, her real name is so rare that it’s worth mentioning. Anomaly, Anna for short.
With any being that can choose between right and wrong, a parent must teach the being through modeling and discipline. Now I don’t expect the owner of this cat to play with strings to demonstrate good play and spank the cat for climbing on the table. But boundaries must be established. Well, not being a former cat owner- shocker I know- I was not aware that a common discipline tool is a squirt bottle with water. The cat crosses a line and SQUIRT! Inconsistency in the rules and discipline (mainly due to misplacing said bottle) has not led to proper behavior, but I try my best to provide that consistency.
Well recently a pink bottle showed up in the kitchen. Previously a blue water bottle followed the cat, but as I mentioned, it could not always be located. Well, the new pink bottle gave me hope that perhaps we were taking a more intentional stand against “bad cat behavior” by having multiple squirt bottles. Tonight the cat was all over the place. Flying from one chair to another, trying to climb my pant leg and walk across the table. I counted to 10 the first time but then the pink bottle came out. BAD CAT- SQUIRT!
All cat-lovers, do not report me to PETA. I’m kind and only following after the cat owner's actions. Or so I thought. The last direct hit came after a bunch of circus acts on and off the table and my fuse went. A few sprays and the cat ran off. Job well done until I hear, “That’s cooking oil!”
WHAT!?!
Unbelievable. No wonder the cat slid all over the floor and down the banister. It was being greased. Thankfully the cat isn’t a pyro because she would have gone up in flames. But of course, I immediately thought a bubble bath would be a good idea. Why not? I’m sure that would get the point across. No cats walking on the table, climbing in the dishwasher or fridge, scratching its way up my back. Yes, a bath. It’s a great place to clear the mind and set it straight.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Perspective of Paul
At the end of Acts 24 there’s a quick line stating after TWO years Felix left and Paul remained in jail. Wait…what? Did I miss something? Two years of Paul’s life went by in one sentence! Where was he? What did he do? Why did he stay in jail? Was he happy? Did he get visitors or learn to play basketball? From reading more about Paul in the Bible and his letters to the others believers, we know he was in jail, sharing the Good News with everyone and anyone and writing letters that we still read today.
What would TWO years of my life look like? Paul’s was summarized in Acts in a single sentence, but we hear, read and see the fruits of these two years still today. There are very few times when I can sum up my time so easily. Even my concise resume bullet-points my accomplishments and skills. I hold a current job that will last two years; that’s the contract. Everyday I think about what I am doing, if I’m being productive, adding to the institution, making the most of the opportunity. Time will tell for sure, but I believe Paul’s positive gives me more perspective. It doesn’t matter if I move up or out, reach huge results or just enough. It’s the effort, complete and whole, of what I am asked to do and the effort to provide similarly significant attention to the people connected with my job and the institution. Meeting goals can help that happen, but when ship-wrecked and imprisoned or injured and fired, I still can be fruitful to who God wants me to be. For these two years. And the next two…
What would TWO years of my life look like? Paul’s was summarized in Acts in a single sentence, but we hear, read and see the fruits of these two years still today. There are very few times when I can sum up my time so easily. Even my concise resume bullet-points my accomplishments and skills. I hold a current job that will last two years; that’s the contract. Everyday I think about what I am doing, if I’m being productive, adding to the institution, making the most of the opportunity. Time will tell for sure, but I believe Paul’s positive gives me more perspective. It doesn’t matter if I move up or out, reach huge results or just enough. It’s the effort, complete and whole, of what I am asked to do and the effort to provide similarly significant attention to the people connected with my job and the institution. Meeting goals can help that happen, but when ship-wrecked and imprisoned or injured and fired, I still can be fruitful to who God wants me to be. For these two years. And the next two…
Sunday, October 4, 2009
chocolate bubbles
I’m reading The Hole in the Gospel by Richard Stearns in which he starts off by saying how much he enjoyed being in his bubble with family, friends, and career. Not with three orphans in Uganda starving of food and love.
It made me think of my time in Africa and the chocolate. In order to have a bit of solace amidst the newness of it all, Jami and I packed chocolate. Toward the end of the trip we couldn’t eat it fast enough. Home was just a sweet, caffeinated bite away. Just today it dawned on me how much of our bubble was wrapped up in that little piece of foil and how much more was in our stuff- books, computer, iPod, toilet paper, and even sometimes our attitudes of independent individuals, selfish and spoiled. Also, I wonder how we could have substituted the chocolate. What if every time I want a chocolate I prayed, did 10 sit-ups and thanked God for his presence in my life? The sweets were definitely a psychological crutch, and I limped along at times. But if it was such a mind game, why couldn’t I win with my prayers instead?
There’s a reason so many people give up chocolate and sweets for Lent. It can control them. More than any other time, a person is forced to think beyond the sweet to the reason for the fast. She might be yelling or crying at God, but at least communication is happening.
Bubbles do that- cut off service in or out for those deeper, intrusive, bubble-bursting experiences or words to change us. I wonder now in America what has become my bubble, my dark chocolate Hershey kiss. Sleep? TV? To do lists? Work? Green tea and Luna bars? Hopefully this list gives me plenty of times when I can redirect my frustrations, joys or hellos to God.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
put into practice
Putting things into practice from school is hard. Part of it is the fact that I can no longer claim ignorance. I’m not just a young kid in a new job who will learn from mistakes and grace will be doled out in large measures. Instead, I have the knowledge or at least the theories at my fingertips, in my homework and festering/percolating/playing pin-ball in my head. How do I make sense of all these ideas? Which ways work for me? What seems natural, and is that good? What do I need to work on? Oh, this is cool, let me experiment. So many jumbled messages running around.
I’m grateful for class discussion and a sister who has read a great deal about leadership and dysfunctional people (ie she’s read life.) to help make sense of it all. The perspective of my classmates is quite varied with ages ranging from 20 (yeah, fresh graduates) to experienced and older adults looking to enhance or change their careers. People come from both coasts of the country and Thailand, Taiwan, Saudi Arabia, Uganda (she’s friends with ACC people!) and California. It’s a great mix of people for an organizational behavior class. We’re a talkative group, but we always seem to make time for the wild stories our prof likes to tell. The guy's resume is incredible, so like my Dad, he’s got all sorts of fantastic tales. And this is where my dad could benefit from teaching: each year a new audience is available to absorb his anecdotal wisdom.
Tonight was exceptionally profound and enlightening. Perhaps because we talked about motivation or team dynamics. What helped me engage so much, though, were the real life issues I am facing in my jobs and relationships. We worked with a case study to understand ways to motivate a diverse group of people. I wanted to put my “Jane Ms and John Ds” on the board and say, "Help me fix this or understand this person’s thinking." Theory to discussion to practice can be a very quick track, but the former two parts don’t really involve feelings. Only smiley faces in a 2D way ☺ And in infinite time and space. Being “boss” is not my forte but perhaps because I need to revisit my own point from class discussion. To lead or to manage. In leading people, we have an opportunity to work alongside, sometimes eliminating the tension of inexperience or age. Managing makes me think of cattle herding. While I might need to work on collaborating/leading skills, I have never been nor want to be a good rancher. I’m a cowgirl with a pink hat. Let that be telling enough.
So I think I will tip my hat (pastel pink as it is) and fess up to weaknesses while still maintaining a balance of ushering groups forward to succeed. If that’s all I can do with the spinning wheels in my head, let them work as functional gears.
I’m grateful for class discussion and a sister who has read a great deal about leadership and dysfunctional people (ie she’s read life.) to help make sense of it all. The perspective of my classmates is quite varied with ages ranging from 20 (yeah, fresh graduates) to experienced and older adults looking to enhance or change their careers. People come from both coasts of the country and Thailand, Taiwan, Saudi Arabia, Uganda (she’s friends with ACC people!) and California. It’s a great mix of people for an organizational behavior class. We’re a talkative group, but we always seem to make time for the wild stories our prof likes to tell. The guy's resume is incredible, so like my Dad, he’s got all sorts of fantastic tales. And this is where my dad could benefit from teaching: each year a new audience is available to absorb his anecdotal wisdom.
Tonight was exceptionally profound and enlightening. Perhaps because we talked about motivation or team dynamics. What helped me engage so much, though, were the real life issues I am facing in my jobs and relationships. We worked with a case study to understand ways to motivate a diverse group of people. I wanted to put my “Jane Ms and John Ds” on the board and say, "Help me fix this or understand this person’s thinking." Theory to discussion to practice can be a very quick track, but the former two parts don’t really involve feelings. Only smiley faces in a 2D way ☺ And in infinite time and space. Being “boss” is not my forte but perhaps because I need to revisit my own point from class discussion. To lead or to manage. In leading people, we have an opportunity to work alongside, sometimes eliminating the tension of inexperience or age. Managing makes me think of cattle herding. While I might need to work on collaborating/leading skills, I have never been nor want to be a good rancher. I’m a cowgirl with a pink hat. Let that be telling enough.
So I think I will tip my hat (pastel pink as it is) and fess up to weaknesses while still maintaining a balance of ushering groups forward to succeed. If that’s all I can do with the spinning wheels in my head, let them work as functional gears.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
watermelon juice
9:55 (post class with watermelon)
So two good friends just called on my way home from school. It was probably the highlight of my day. A) they cared enough to call B) we took care of some business c) they laugh. They laugh at the silliest things and put me at ease. Show me that I’m cooler and more interesting than I thought I might have been 43 minutes earlier trying to keep from snoring in class. It was great. And now I have watermelon. The night is bright.
I’m taking this intriguing class on organizational behavior. A big title for studying about how people work in groups, especially dysfunctional ones. It’s amazing how it all seems to apply to my life whether in my family, former/current jobs, with friends or my own head. What motivates me? What type of leadership do I practice, do I respond the best to, do I despise? How can a manager help merging companies not only exist as a new, unified company but thrive? Some of these theories I’ve thought of before and have names to identify them, but now it’s nice to say with confidence, “Hey. You guys are enduring informal socialization.” (and then get weird stares or exploding heads)
At this particular moment though, thoughts seem to be stuck. My brain probably looks like the Spokane road system in the summer: detours, construction, no signage for alternate routes, and random sections of blocked roads without any work being done just to mess with drivers. I’m sure my head is a maze with lots of traffic but orange cones of sleep deprivation and blinking road signs of overstimulation and preoccupation are keeping everything at a stand still. So I can’t write my paper. At least not right now. And I can’t really think creatively for church. And all potential recruits for track that I might call should be in bed but are probably living up the last days of summer.
So here I am with a bowl of watermelon chunks, realizing the only juices that are flowing tonight are those down my chin.
So two good friends just called on my way home from school. It was probably the highlight of my day. A) they cared enough to call B) we took care of some business c) they laugh. They laugh at the silliest things and put me at ease. Show me that I’m cooler and more interesting than I thought I might have been 43 minutes earlier trying to keep from snoring in class. It was great. And now I have watermelon. The night is bright.
I’m taking this intriguing class on organizational behavior. A big title for studying about how people work in groups, especially dysfunctional ones. It’s amazing how it all seems to apply to my life whether in my family, former/current jobs, with friends or my own head. What motivates me? What type of leadership do I practice, do I respond the best to, do I despise? How can a manager help merging companies not only exist as a new, unified company but thrive? Some of these theories I’ve thought of before and have names to identify them, but now it’s nice to say with confidence, “Hey. You guys are enduring informal socialization.” (and then get weird stares or exploding heads)
At this particular moment though, thoughts seem to be stuck. My brain probably looks like the Spokane road system in the summer: detours, construction, no signage for alternate routes, and random sections of blocked roads without any work being done just to mess with drivers. I’m sure my head is a maze with lots of traffic but orange cones of sleep deprivation and blinking road signs of overstimulation and preoccupation are keeping everything at a stand still. So I can’t write my paper. At least not right now. And I can’t really think creatively for church. And all potential recruits for track that I might call should be in bed but are probably living up the last days of summer.
So here I am with a bowl of watermelon chunks, realizing the only juices that are flowing tonight are those down my chin.
Monday, August 24, 2009
No Escape
Last night I was talking to a friend about decisions. It occurred to me just then, there’s no escape. Let me explain. Most difficult decisions are tough because an alternate option is or could be equally good. Either way God will bless the decision. Sometimes one choice is better than another, especially from the perspective of those not in the angst and turmoil of life decisions. Sometimes Christians who believe that God calls, directs, or otherwise TELLS them to GO, feel the need to be reassured, confirmed in their decisions. That’s fair. I’ve been there. But so often that which keeps us from finally signing the dotted line to a covenant with God, a contract to move forward on his plan is a four letter word.
FEAR.
Like I said, human reassurance concerning logistics, money, safety, prosperity, success, or simply the audible GO from human lips seems so necessary to the commitment. As I reflected with her about her hangs ups, her indecision, her hesitancy, it was simply fear that kept her seated (and shaking) rather than RUNNING to the next point in her journey. “What if…? Who will show me the way? How can little ol’ me…? What if I get sick, hurt, confused, homesick…?”
So I essentially mused that there was no escaping the possibilities of hurt, injury, spiritual angst or battle. Especially in a place not at home. Especially in a culture different from home. Especially with a purpose unique from that at home.
But then I questioned: Is there escaping those same things at home? Are we free from hurt and pain and sorrow just because we’re living in a comfort zone? Are we free to live without fear and angst just because we’re living a “normal life”? No Way! This is still the earth with human beings, fallible and frenzied as much as they are full of hope, joy and love.
Serving God is not a “get out of jail free” card. It’s not an invisible cloak like Harry Potter’s that allows believers to escape or avoid the less desirable or pleasant things of life. Answering, following God’s purpose for our lives instead gives us reassurance that in the midst of all the poopy possibilities, God is with us. No matter what, He can make things good, often better than we imagined (thankfully). He can prepare us for the unknowns and help us learn from them.
I’m glad God didn’t send a car like the one for James Bond with all sorts of gadgets and said, “Best of Luck. I’m counting on you.” Instead He sent Jesus to model a life of obedience in the midst of great and gruesome situations. And then, He even promised and delivered on a helper, the Holy Spirit. James Bond might have M’s voice and a sweet laser pen, but in the end, he was responsible to find the escape.
God’s escape plan is not from the world’s pains but instead from FEAR. So whether we trek across the world or next door to a stranger’s house to say hi, we’ll encounter life, the good, bad and ugly. But we’ll also have the reassurance that our purpose and abilities don’t lead us to find the nearest exit but encourage us to go deeper in, into relationship with people and God.
FEAR.
Like I said, human reassurance concerning logistics, money, safety, prosperity, success, or simply the audible GO from human lips seems so necessary to the commitment. As I reflected with her about her hangs ups, her indecision, her hesitancy, it was simply fear that kept her seated (and shaking) rather than RUNNING to the next point in her journey. “What if…? Who will show me the way? How can little ol’ me…? What if I get sick, hurt, confused, homesick…?”
So I essentially mused that there was no escaping the possibilities of hurt, injury, spiritual angst or battle. Especially in a place not at home. Especially in a culture different from home. Especially with a purpose unique from that at home.
But then I questioned: Is there escaping those same things at home? Are we free from hurt and pain and sorrow just because we’re living in a comfort zone? Are we free to live without fear and angst just because we’re living a “normal life”? No Way! This is still the earth with human beings, fallible and frenzied as much as they are full of hope, joy and love.
Serving God is not a “get out of jail free” card. It’s not an invisible cloak like Harry Potter’s that allows believers to escape or avoid the less desirable or pleasant things of life. Answering, following God’s purpose for our lives instead gives us reassurance that in the midst of all the poopy possibilities, God is with us. No matter what, He can make things good, often better than we imagined (thankfully). He can prepare us for the unknowns and help us learn from them.
I’m glad God didn’t send a car like the one for James Bond with all sorts of gadgets and said, “Best of Luck. I’m counting on you.” Instead He sent Jesus to model a life of obedience in the midst of great and gruesome situations. And then, He even promised and delivered on a helper, the Holy Spirit. James Bond might have M’s voice and a sweet laser pen, but in the end, he was responsible to find the escape.
God’s escape plan is not from the world’s pains but instead from FEAR. So whether we trek across the world or next door to a stranger’s house to say hi, we’ll encounter life, the good, bad and ugly. But we’ll also have the reassurance that our purpose and abilities don’t lead us to find the nearest exit but encourage us to go deeper in, into relationship with people and God.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
sticky thoughts
This week I haven’t written much. Really at all. Not out of lack of desire or thoughts. Simply out of energy. For instance, last night I started this blog and my eyes started growing heavy. My dead weight seemed to know the key strokes for saving and quitting, but my brain wasn’t alert enough to realize a lasting mistake. Command A and delete leaves a page blank. When I gained enough sense to reopen the document, I was stuck, left simply with a title.
It’s amazing how much I’ve thought this week. Usually such thoughts spill out my ears and leave me forever, rarely making another appearance even in my dreams. Sometimes I appreciate this faucet without much of a filter. Lots of life happenings just don’t have much value, apart from the simplest evidence of a life lived and hopefully appreciated. And yet, this week thoughts are sticking to me. It must be all the Kenyan honey I consumed two weeks ago.
Thoughts about my ACC kids flood my mind. I do miss them so and wish them all the best upon their return home. How do I still pray for them? Support them? Send letters to them?
Thoughts about my job(s). Who thought this schedule was a good idea? How can it be arranged? What hat do I wear now? Which day or hour is free? I am content with these opportunities. I’m grateful for them and excited even. And yet I think about the leadership assumed, the humility required, the organization needed, the time management applied, and the relationships rejuvenated/created. Leadership, leading, lead by itself is a thought taking a good chunk of the little percentage of brain that I use. There are so many books, people, experiences I want to tap to fully grasp the thought of leading.
Thoughts about my family. ¿Saben Español? Are cheeks still puffy and throat still soar? Have classes and teachers started the year well? Does all the extra time make napping even more appealing? How do I support them from my little blue bed in the basement? I think about the holidays we’ll spend together, the cards I’ll write, the phones calls we can have, the games we’ll play in the late hours with a movie and Oreo milkshakes.
Thoughts about God. In my thinking this week, I’ve wondered how he was working. Or how hard he was having to work to get through to me in my busyness. But I’ve decided these random thoughts and thinks that have stuck are a gift from him. I haven’t lost my mind- a gift in itself. But more than that I’ve been able to keep in that not-lost mind the ideas, goals, desires, and people I hold most dear. They haven’t been spilling out like normal but instead sticking, insulating the inside. Maybe all these good thoughts will help me fly to Neverland someday. Peter Pan must have had lots of honey as a kid. Even if I can’t fly or been able to write, I’m content with the time for sticky thoughts.
It’s amazing how much I’ve thought this week. Usually such thoughts spill out my ears and leave me forever, rarely making another appearance even in my dreams. Sometimes I appreciate this faucet without much of a filter. Lots of life happenings just don’t have much value, apart from the simplest evidence of a life lived and hopefully appreciated. And yet, this week thoughts are sticking to me. It must be all the Kenyan honey I consumed two weeks ago.
Thoughts about my ACC kids flood my mind. I do miss them so and wish them all the best upon their return home. How do I still pray for them? Support them? Send letters to them?
Thoughts about my job(s). Who thought this schedule was a good idea? How can it be arranged? What hat do I wear now? Which day or hour is free? I am content with these opportunities. I’m grateful for them and excited even. And yet I think about the leadership assumed, the humility required, the organization needed, the time management applied, and the relationships rejuvenated/created. Leadership, leading, lead by itself is a thought taking a good chunk of the little percentage of brain that I use. There are so many books, people, experiences I want to tap to fully grasp the thought of leading.
Thoughts about my family. ¿Saben Español? Are cheeks still puffy and throat still soar? Have classes and teachers started the year well? Does all the extra time make napping even more appealing? How do I support them from my little blue bed in the basement? I think about the holidays we’ll spend together, the cards I’ll write, the phones calls we can have, the games we’ll play in the late hours with a movie and Oreo milkshakes.
Thoughts about God. In my thinking this week, I’ve wondered how he was working. Or how hard he was having to work to get through to me in my busyness. But I’ve decided these random thoughts and thinks that have stuck are a gift from him. I haven’t lost my mind- a gift in itself. But more than that I’ve been able to keep in that not-lost mind the ideas, goals, desires, and people I hold most dear. They haven’t been spilling out like normal but instead sticking, insulating the inside. Maybe all these good thoughts will help me fly to Neverland someday. Peter Pan must have had lots of honey as a kid. Even if I can’t fly or been able to write, I’m content with the time for sticky thoughts.
Running America
It’s so nice to be home, rested and running now a week after being in Africa. How I missed the moments to get away, rejuvenate my body and soul, and think. Oh to run, there is no such option as not to run.
This week of running and working out has been refreshing. The first couple of days I was sore. It didn’t help that 10 hours before my first outing I had sat on a plane for 35 hrs. The little things. Muscles I hadn’t used were being stretched (but not pulled) in a different way since I had been gone. Of course, I wasn’t a sloth in Africa; I ran a bit here and there with the kids around the school yard, down the beach until the rocky wall met me after 200 meters, and away from the geese than wanted to nip at my toes at every passing chance. But it wasn’t the same so I was glad that running in the states was like riding a bike. I didn’t forget or fall off.
Running in the States versus Africa has taken on a more metaphorical idea as of late (ie the last week). Africans don’t run in general. The day’s events and tasks are completed in due time without much rush. Americans SPRINT or RUN a marathon everyday. Each 24 hours (limits are tough to take) is jam packed with activities, meetings, and deadlines.
In Africa, everything works on “Africa time.” While one pastor challenged his people to alter this habit in order to prosper, many Africans live out “Africa time” in a way that puts things in perspective. They make sure each appointment or order of business is filled with intentional relationship building. So long as a person feels free to speak, welcome as a friend, and comfortable in the present company, work/business/play can move forward as planned. Sometimes this desire to make one comfortable takes longer and is then reciprocated by the other. This process take time and rather than rush it or erase it all together, everyone would rather throw away the watch. In America we see punctuality as the sign of respect in relationships whereas Africans see spending time together, whenever starts, as the utmost goal.
In America, or at least my life for the last week, has been a constant GO. I’m running from this place to another, one meeting to another conversation to yet one more engagement. Part of that is my routine since coming back- a lot of catch up to do. But even in the midst of catching up, I sometimes forgot the joys of just talking to friends, enjoying a meal with others, absorbing the beauty around me. I’m much better since being in Africa, immersed in that world. Tasks that may have seemed so crucial just aren’t. Certainly not in comparison to relationships.
So I missed running. But I also miss walking. There’s a great paradox in this statement as I contemplate the need to run physically and mentally while at the same time needing to walk emotionally and spiritually. Maybe I’ll learn to jog.
This week of running and working out has been refreshing. The first couple of days I was sore. It didn’t help that 10 hours before my first outing I had sat on a plane for 35 hrs. The little things. Muscles I hadn’t used were being stretched (but not pulled) in a different way since I had been gone. Of course, I wasn’t a sloth in Africa; I ran a bit here and there with the kids around the school yard, down the beach until the rocky wall met me after 200 meters, and away from the geese than wanted to nip at my toes at every passing chance. But it wasn’t the same so I was glad that running in the states was like riding a bike. I didn’t forget or fall off.
Running in the States versus Africa has taken on a more metaphorical idea as of late (ie the last week). Africans don’t run in general. The day’s events and tasks are completed in due time without much rush. Americans SPRINT or RUN a marathon everyday. Each 24 hours (limits are tough to take) is jam packed with activities, meetings, and deadlines.
In Africa, everything works on “Africa time.” While one pastor challenged his people to alter this habit in order to prosper, many Africans live out “Africa time” in a way that puts things in perspective. They make sure each appointment or order of business is filled with intentional relationship building. So long as a person feels free to speak, welcome as a friend, and comfortable in the present company, work/business/play can move forward as planned. Sometimes this desire to make one comfortable takes longer and is then reciprocated by the other. This process take time and rather than rush it or erase it all together, everyone would rather throw away the watch. In America we see punctuality as the sign of respect in relationships whereas Africans see spending time together, whenever starts, as the utmost goal.
In America, or at least my life for the last week, has been a constant GO. I’m running from this place to another, one meeting to another conversation to yet one more engagement. Part of that is my routine since coming back- a lot of catch up to do. But even in the midst of catching up, I sometimes forgot the joys of just talking to friends, enjoying a meal with others, absorbing the beauty around me. I’m much better since being in Africa, immersed in that world. Tasks that may have seemed so crucial just aren’t. Certainly not in comparison to relationships.
So I missed running. But I also miss walking. There’s a great paradox in this statement as I contemplate the need to run physically and mentally while at the same time needing to walk emotionally and spiritually. Maybe I’ll learn to jog.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Full Moon
8.6.09 7:24am Amsterdam Airport
Moving from the Third World to the First world was as drastic a change as a man changing into a werewolf. And it even came with a full moon. I ate salad on the plane. Spoons, knives and forks were expected tools for eating the on-flight meal. I walked into the Amsterdam airport at a five times the speed I have moved in the last six weeks. While Nairobi had the feel of an American city at times, the African ways, customs, languages, and attitudes still lingered and ran business as usual, usual for Africa.
Pole, pole (Slowly, slowly) was replaced with Hurry, hurry! And the space was overwhelming. I felt as if the drain in the ground had opened, sucking in half of humanity since I see only two dozen people at the gate for the connecting flight. Where are all the gregarious people, their handful of children, the bright colors of life? The airport in Amsterdam felt like a sterilized hospital in comparison to the world in which I have lived. I can drink from the tap!
But as drastic the physical differences seem, I think the emotions, attitudes and passions of the werewolf made him a more exciting/terrifying morph man. Such would have to be the case when coming home to America from Africa. What will change, what has changed?
My head is swimming with this question as I think a profound idea should illuminate the otherwise groggily gray spaces within. I am stuck at this time to pin point those thoughts. I know I have experienced, seen, felt things that will impact my life forever. But I think the profound idea I can articulate is a simple observation that relationships are planted, germinate, grow and are pruned the same all over the world. I left America knowing friends awaited me. One of the first people I spoke to in Africa was my friend Harriet from tour. And she sent us off, too, via phone but still with warm wishes for traveling to our home and grateful sentiments for visiting her home.
She might wash with a basin while I take hot showers. She might eat rice and potatoes everyday while I eat salad and apples. She might sleep under a mosquito net while I sleep under thick blankets. But in the end, we are universally the same. We can be man and werewolf simultaneously- the ordinariness and odd quirks making us unique as individuals but drawing us close in both curiosity and genuine love for what we can share with each other. Stark differences in culture and habitat might seem like huge barriers, but the human spirit and ability to dream bind us together no matter our homeland.
My way of life might change a bit. I’ll probably be more cautious of wasting resources and more apt to do with what I have versus consuming. Kids in Mombasa will still study world history but perhaps with a different perspective of white people. Either way we’ll go through life dealing with universal issues of dating, illness, child rearing, employment and hopefully hosting parties to celebrate life lived together.
Moving from the Third World to the First world was as drastic a change as a man changing into a werewolf. And it even came with a full moon. I ate salad on the plane. Spoons, knives and forks were expected tools for eating the on-flight meal. I walked into the Amsterdam airport at a five times the speed I have moved in the last six weeks. While Nairobi had the feel of an American city at times, the African ways, customs, languages, and attitudes still lingered and ran business as usual, usual for Africa.
Pole, pole (Slowly, slowly) was replaced with Hurry, hurry! And the space was overwhelming. I felt as if the drain in the ground had opened, sucking in half of humanity since I see only two dozen people at the gate for the connecting flight. Where are all the gregarious people, their handful of children, the bright colors of life? The airport in Amsterdam felt like a sterilized hospital in comparison to the world in which I have lived. I can drink from the tap!
But as drastic the physical differences seem, I think the emotions, attitudes and passions of the werewolf made him a more exciting/terrifying morph man. Such would have to be the case when coming home to America from Africa. What will change, what has changed?
My head is swimming with this question as I think a profound idea should illuminate the otherwise groggily gray spaces within. I am stuck at this time to pin point those thoughts. I know I have experienced, seen, felt things that will impact my life forever. But I think the profound idea I can articulate is a simple observation that relationships are planted, germinate, grow and are pruned the same all over the world. I left America knowing friends awaited me. One of the first people I spoke to in Africa was my friend Harriet from tour. And she sent us off, too, via phone but still with warm wishes for traveling to our home and grateful sentiments for visiting her home.
She might wash with a basin while I take hot showers. She might eat rice and potatoes everyday while I eat salad and apples. She might sleep under a mosquito net while I sleep under thick blankets. But in the end, we are universally the same. We can be man and werewolf simultaneously- the ordinariness and odd quirks making us unique as individuals but drawing us close in both curiosity and genuine love for what we can share with each other. Stark differences in culture and habitat might seem like huge barriers, but the human spirit and ability to dream bind us together no matter our homeland.
My way of life might change a bit. I’ll probably be more cautious of wasting resources and more apt to do with what I have versus consuming. Kids in Mombasa will still study world history but perhaps with a different perspective of white people. Either way we’ll go through life dealing with universal issues of dating, illness, child rearing, employment and hopefully hosting parties to celebrate life lived together.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Raincheck: Dancing Date
Tues. Aug. 4
We took it easy today. Not like the rest of our trip has been overly strenuous, apart from carting logs up a mountain. But Nairobi has treated us well and today was no exception. First, we are blessed to have the means to pay for a nice hotel with clean sheets, a real toilet, a hot shower (though Jami hasn’t got the touch) and a good breakfast even with its Lacto-vegan rules. So we took advantage of it and slept late (some later than others as is always the case with Jami and I.) I got some work done, read a bit, and finally convinced my roommate that it was time to rise and shine.
We headed into the city center. Nairobi is just like any big American city- fast, busy and impersonal. Very Non-African. I’ve meant to report on the advertisement around this continent. First off, everywhere you go especially on the roads between towns, shops are painted pink and yellow advertising phone and paint companies. Even in Nairobi the National Archive building has Crown paint advertisement painted on the top of the building. Imagine the Smithsonian with Sherman-Williams’ logo painted on the side of the building. A weekly newspaper paints its headlines on a large wall in the city center which I think is a very clever way to share info as well as sell papers. Those headlines better be catchy!
So we ate some more chicken and chips and even splurged on a milkshake. We walked around for a bit, feeling like we were running after 5 weeks of walking at a snail’s pace. I can’t wait to run! Oh my!
Tonight we chilled at home, playing Dutch Blitz until a man called us for a night on the town. Actually it was another friend from our ACC connections. He took us to a restaurant with loud music and we talked of tour, goals and dancing. The 3 of us made up a good 15% of the crowd so dancing might have been awkward but inside and in my shoulders I was getting down with it. Our friend from yesterday joined us and we decided that another trip to Kenya has to be planned so that we can go dancing together. I’m all for it!
We took it easy today. Not like the rest of our trip has been overly strenuous, apart from carting logs up a mountain. But Nairobi has treated us well and today was no exception. First, we are blessed to have the means to pay for a nice hotel with clean sheets, a real toilet, a hot shower (though Jami hasn’t got the touch) and a good breakfast even with its Lacto-vegan rules. So we took advantage of it and slept late (some later than others as is always the case with Jami and I.) I got some work done, read a bit, and finally convinced my roommate that it was time to rise and shine.
We headed into the city center. Nairobi is just like any big American city- fast, busy and impersonal. Very Non-African. I’ve meant to report on the advertisement around this continent. First off, everywhere you go especially on the roads between towns, shops are painted pink and yellow advertising phone and paint companies. Even in Nairobi the National Archive building has Crown paint advertisement painted on the top of the building. Imagine the Smithsonian with Sherman-Williams’ logo painted on the side of the building. A weekly newspaper paints its headlines on a large wall in the city center which I think is a very clever way to share info as well as sell papers. Those headlines better be catchy!
So we ate some more chicken and chips and even splurged on a milkshake. We walked around for a bit, feeling like we were running after 5 weeks of walking at a snail’s pace. I can’t wait to run! Oh my!
Tonight we chilled at home, playing Dutch Blitz until a man called us for a night on the town. Actually it was another friend from our ACC connections. He took us to a restaurant with loud music and we talked of tour, goals and dancing. The 3 of us made up a good 15% of the crowd so dancing might have been awkward but inside and in my shoulders I was getting down with it. Our friend from yesterday joined us and we decided that another trip to Kenya has to be planned so that we can go dancing together. I’m all for it!
Last day on the Edge
Sat. Aug. 1
Our last day in Mtwapa was relaxed and utterly enjoyable. Jami and I took care of some business at the internet, posting blogs and what and instead of returning home to leftovers sans a microwave, we ventured to the main street. Street vendors were always a little sketch to me, a risk I was and am not willing to take without reassurance from a local that my intestines can handle it. We ended up at a little café of sorts.
Café in Africa is not like that in France however as we sat under a makeshift roof, patched together with tin and fabric and held up by fat sticks. The cooks grilled on an open fire pit though this place had a fryer for chips (fries) and a small cooler for drinks. Flies made up most of the crowd while we ate though a few Maasai men ate methodically their ugali and some green spinach/cabbage looking thing. Mmm. Jami and I opted for some chips and chicken and a cold beverage which in the end was perfect. A relaxed meal with no surprises.
Upon our return home we discovered an overwhelming desire to go to the beach. Everyone was itching to hit the waves and sand. It would be our last day on the edge of the world as we sank into the sand of the Indian Ocean. So Jami and I grabbed a herd of kids and off we went. I chatted with Victor about being an actor and writing stories while Jami took pictures and enjoyed the company of Rodney, Sidney, Shirlene, Stella, Faith, Tim, Andrea and Esther. We made a nice crowd as we sauntered onto the beach.
The boys and I ventured out to the middle sand bank so we could dig to South America- I had to remember that since we were on the other side of the world, we couldn’t dig to China. We got pretty deep, maybe even 2 feet before the big boys of the beach wrecked our party. They wanted to play soccer on the bank even though they had plenty of room on the sandy shore. Sidney, the eldest of John’s kids and typical 1st born, was incensed but couldn’t do anything. I would have liked to defend him but as I didn’t know the language, didn’t have a great reason why we should stay and mostly felt completely overpowered by the guys, we left. I reassured Sidney and the rest that we would find a spot on the beach to dig. We might even be able to dig deeper since we’re further from water level. Tears were in Sidney’s eyes but we carried on like we were in control of our happiness.
We found a spot to dig with the help of sticks and spade shaped log. The first couple layers/inches were fine, but then we hit washed up leaves and wood. Meandering through that was a bit more difficult but water sprang none the less. Oddly enough about 4 older gentlemen came over to inspect. At first I though they were going to be like the other guys, bosses of the beach, but instead they were mesmerized by our efforts. Why? What is happening? Why is there water? Will it work over here? While they didn’t quite get down to digging, they would have been A+ observers.
Digging only lasted long enough for us to need to rinse/swim off. The boys didn’t know how to swim but they were willing to come try with us. Jami is a great teacher and knows all the perfect things to say, the places to start like floating rather than butterfly kick. She started with Esther then helped Rodney.
The first-borns stuck together…literally, since Sidney wouldn’t have any of my coaxing to relax and undig his nails from my arm. So we just held each other for a bit. Then I decide we would do it in baby steps and pretend to be a frog kicking off the ground. We were in waist deep water in the middle of the ocean so we had a nice cushion of level ground for hopping. We tried to float again but Sidney, such a wise kid, couldn’t turn off his stubborn brain. Rodney had mastered floating, so we traded children. Jami didn’t have much luck either though she did convince Sidney that he wasn’t going to die since he could hold his breath longer than Jami (wink wink)
In the end I could see frustration setting in so I took Sidney on my back and we swam- he kicked with his head above water while I went low enough for him to feel like he was in the water too. Then I had a brilliant idea. Why doesn’t he float on my back! I’ll go under enough for him to be on top of the water and then slowly he can gain confidence. So long as he rested his head on the back of mine, he was fine. We did it over and over and then tried floating just him and no table. He did it! He was thrilled, we all were. But we were also really cold so we left victorious.
Our last day in Mtwapa was relaxed and utterly enjoyable. Jami and I took care of some business at the internet, posting blogs and what and instead of returning home to leftovers sans a microwave, we ventured to the main street. Street vendors were always a little sketch to me, a risk I was and am not willing to take without reassurance from a local that my intestines can handle it. We ended up at a little café of sorts.
Café in Africa is not like that in France however as we sat under a makeshift roof, patched together with tin and fabric and held up by fat sticks. The cooks grilled on an open fire pit though this place had a fryer for chips (fries) and a small cooler for drinks. Flies made up most of the crowd while we ate though a few Maasai men ate methodically their ugali and some green spinach/cabbage looking thing. Mmm. Jami and I opted for some chips and chicken and a cold beverage which in the end was perfect. A relaxed meal with no surprises.
Upon our return home we discovered an overwhelming desire to go to the beach. Everyone was itching to hit the waves and sand. It would be our last day on the edge of the world as we sank into the sand of the Indian Ocean. So Jami and I grabbed a herd of kids and off we went. I chatted with Victor about being an actor and writing stories while Jami took pictures and enjoyed the company of Rodney, Sidney, Shirlene, Stella, Faith, Tim, Andrea and Esther. We made a nice crowd as we sauntered onto the beach.
The boys and I ventured out to the middle sand bank so we could dig to South America- I had to remember that since we were on the other side of the world, we couldn’t dig to China. We got pretty deep, maybe even 2 feet before the big boys of the beach wrecked our party. They wanted to play soccer on the bank even though they had plenty of room on the sandy shore. Sidney, the eldest of John’s kids and typical 1st born, was incensed but couldn’t do anything. I would have liked to defend him but as I didn’t know the language, didn’t have a great reason why we should stay and mostly felt completely overpowered by the guys, we left. I reassured Sidney and the rest that we would find a spot on the beach to dig. We might even be able to dig deeper since we’re further from water level. Tears were in Sidney’s eyes but we carried on like we were in control of our happiness.
We found a spot to dig with the help of sticks and spade shaped log. The first couple layers/inches were fine, but then we hit washed up leaves and wood. Meandering through that was a bit more difficult but water sprang none the less. Oddly enough about 4 older gentlemen came over to inspect. At first I though they were going to be like the other guys, bosses of the beach, but instead they were mesmerized by our efforts. Why? What is happening? Why is there water? Will it work over here? While they didn’t quite get down to digging, they would have been A+ observers.
Digging only lasted long enough for us to need to rinse/swim off. The boys didn’t know how to swim but they were willing to come try with us. Jami is a great teacher and knows all the perfect things to say, the places to start like floating rather than butterfly kick. She started with Esther then helped Rodney.
The first-borns stuck together…literally, since Sidney wouldn’t have any of my coaxing to relax and undig his nails from my arm. So we just held each other for a bit. Then I decide we would do it in baby steps and pretend to be a frog kicking off the ground. We were in waist deep water in the middle of the ocean so we had a nice cushion of level ground for hopping. We tried to float again but Sidney, such a wise kid, couldn’t turn off his stubborn brain. Rodney had mastered floating, so we traded children. Jami didn’t have much luck either though she did convince Sidney that he wasn’t going to die since he could hold his breath longer than Jami (wink wink)
In the end I could see frustration setting in so I took Sidney on my back and we swam- he kicked with his head above water while I went low enough for him to feel like he was in the water too. Then I had a brilliant idea. Why doesn’t he float on my back! I’ll go under enough for him to be on top of the water and then slowly he can gain confidence. So long as he rested his head on the back of mine, he was fine. We did it over and over and then tried floating just him and no table. He did it! He was thrilled, we all were. But we were also really cold so we left victorious.
Giraffes- even the name is silly
Fun Facts about this crazy animal:
1) Their heart is 2 ft by 1 ft.
2) If they keep their head down longer than 10-15 minutes to drink water or eat, they will faint.
3) Giraffes never blink.
4) They usually live to be 10-15 years old (20-25 years in captivity) mainly because the sun blinds them. Once they’re blind they can’t get food. Or they close line themselves…
5) A baby giraffe’s tibia weighs about 30 pounds.
6) Mothers carry the baby for 15 months unless their milk isn’t healthy (instinct tells them, not the vet) and then they carry it an extra 3 months!
7) Their tongues are purple and feel like sandpaper- a little awkward when kissing me.
8) Giraffes might be really good at American football since they like to head but. Watch out!
9) They sleep for 5-30 minutes everyday. Standing up.
Incredible!
1) Their heart is 2 ft by 1 ft.
2) If they keep their head down longer than 10-15 minutes to drink water or eat, they will faint.
3) Giraffes never blink.
4) They usually live to be 10-15 years old (20-25 years in captivity) mainly because the sun blinds them. Once they’re blind they can’t get food. Or they close line themselves…
5) A baby giraffe’s tibia weighs about 30 pounds.
6) Mothers carry the baby for 15 months unless their milk isn’t healthy (instinct tells them, not the vet) and then they carry it an extra 3 months!
7) Their tongues are purple and feel like sandpaper- a little awkward when kissing me.
8) Giraffes might be really good at American football since they like to head but. Watch out!
9) They sleep for 5-30 minutes everyday. Standing up.
Incredible!
dedicated to the animals
A real day in Nairobi also showed us the real beautiful side of Africa. The animals. The show all sorts of love, too, as baby elephants petted their care-takers with their trunks, Daisy the giraffe gave me a kiss and the cheetah didn’t try to jump over the electric fence to eat me.
Jami and I gathered all of our things from one hotel room and transferred it to another one down the street. For 100KSHS more, we have internet ALL day long! Woohoo! Our new friend, ACC brother and tour guide for the day wasn’t able to hook us up with a place near him, but all is well. We’re close to the city center so we can go explore “city” life to the fullest extent tomorrow. Today was dedicated to the animals.
We started at the elephant orphanage. A vet and lover of animals discovered the problem with elephants disappearing, like many of the wild animals in Africa. The white rhino, elephant, giraffe and many others are being poached to extinction, dying from loss of habitat and suffering tremendously under global warming. The care-takers at the orphanage, over a dozen guys, told us stories about the individual elephants. A elephant therapist would be ever busy with this bunch. They spoke of babies getting stuck in the mud and watching their mom walk away without even one attempt in getting them out. Another lost its tail and bits of the ear to bigger animals until the rangers discovered the poor baby. The elephants had to be wrapped in blankets and sleep on cots to mimic the comfort and warmth they would get in the wild from their mom. And boy did they enjoy the milk. Baby things are so funny in general- how they walk, eat, work with their limbs and try to get away with things when they think no one is watching. One elephant stepped on his trunk, at first because I thought he was going through puberty and didn’t know how to deal with his extra long “limbs.” Then I realized he was just picking his nose. Kids will be kids.
A huge rhino came ambling by with the air of seniority and ownership of the place. As we came to find out, male rhinos are very territorial and mark their area with dung so the fact that he grew up in the cell next door to the elephants explains his airs and graces.
The giraffe rescue was next on the list. This refuge cares for endangered giraffes, gives them space to breed and an extended life time with the extra shade trees for them to live 10 years longer than in the wild.
We ventured out on a nature trail, the “natural habitat” for the giraffes at night. They close the road for the giraffe crossing at 5:30pm. Imagine hitting one- it would be like hitting a tree that was just about to fall over. Yikes! Ranger Abdul met us along the way and introduced us to various plants, dry rivers and even a hidden leopard cage. He was pretty proud that he could take us off roading to this rarely seen specimen of the forest. Apparently the leopards have moved from the near by Nairobi National Park to find dinner. A tall order for sure.
Finally it was lunch time. Being in a touristy, commercial area we had no trouble finding a place that served hamburgers and chicken sandwiches. I haven’t seen McDonald’s, truly a thanksgiving, but I felt almost as guilty eating here. Oh well, I can pretend it was international food in Africa. My other option was Mexican next door...um? Charles, Jami and I had a great conversation about aid in Africa, his goals post college, and the future in Kenyan politics.
For our final stop we went on a safari walk. It was a simple tour of the Nairobi National Park, similar to a zoo. There we saw ostriches, wildebeests, albino zebras (it looks like butterscotch syrup on vanilla ice cream), leopards, cheetahs, crocodiles, and lions. I tried out my croc hunter accent but didn’t quite gather a crowd. Probably because the crocs were sleeping and no one else was in the park, at least no one who spoke English/Australian. Overall, it was an awesome outing, a perfect day to enjoy creation at its finest…and silliest.
Jami and I gathered all of our things from one hotel room and transferred it to another one down the street. For 100KSHS more, we have internet ALL day long! Woohoo! Our new friend, ACC brother and tour guide for the day wasn’t able to hook us up with a place near him, but all is well. We’re close to the city center so we can go explore “city” life to the fullest extent tomorrow. Today was dedicated to the animals.
We started at the elephant orphanage. A vet and lover of animals discovered the problem with elephants disappearing, like many of the wild animals in Africa. The white rhino, elephant, giraffe and many others are being poached to extinction, dying from loss of habitat and suffering tremendously under global warming. The care-takers at the orphanage, over a dozen guys, told us stories about the individual elephants. A elephant therapist would be ever busy with this bunch. They spoke of babies getting stuck in the mud and watching their mom walk away without even one attempt in getting them out. Another lost its tail and bits of the ear to bigger animals until the rangers discovered the poor baby. The elephants had to be wrapped in blankets and sleep on cots to mimic the comfort and warmth they would get in the wild from their mom. And boy did they enjoy the milk. Baby things are so funny in general- how they walk, eat, work with their limbs and try to get away with things when they think no one is watching. One elephant stepped on his trunk, at first because I thought he was going through puberty and didn’t know how to deal with his extra long “limbs.” Then I realized he was just picking his nose. Kids will be kids.
A huge rhino came ambling by with the air of seniority and ownership of the place. As we came to find out, male rhinos are very territorial and mark their area with dung so the fact that he grew up in the cell next door to the elephants explains his airs and graces.
The giraffe rescue was next on the list. This refuge cares for endangered giraffes, gives them space to breed and an extended life time with the extra shade trees for them to live 10 years longer than in the wild.
We ventured out on a nature trail, the “natural habitat” for the giraffes at night. They close the road for the giraffe crossing at 5:30pm. Imagine hitting one- it would be like hitting a tree that was just about to fall over. Yikes! Ranger Abdul met us along the way and introduced us to various plants, dry rivers and even a hidden leopard cage. He was pretty proud that he could take us off roading to this rarely seen specimen of the forest. Apparently the leopards have moved from the near by Nairobi National Park to find dinner. A tall order for sure.
Finally it was lunch time. Being in a touristy, commercial area we had no trouble finding a place that served hamburgers and chicken sandwiches. I haven’t seen McDonald’s, truly a thanksgiving, but I felt almost as guilty eating here. Oh well, I can pretend it was international food in Africa. My other option was Mexican next door...um? Charles, Jami and I had a great conversation about aid in Africa, his goals post college, and the future in Kenyan politics.
For our final stop we went on a safari walk. It was a simple tour of the Nairobi National Park, similar to a zoo. There we saw ostriches, wildebeests, albino zebras (it looks like butterscotch syrup on vanilla ice cream), leopards, cheetahs, crocodiles, and lions. I tried out my croc hunter accent but didn’t quite gather a crowd. Probably because the crocs were sleeping and no one else was in the park, at least no one who spoke English/Australian. Overall, it was an awesome outing, a perfect day to enjoy creation at its finest…and silliest.
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