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.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
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.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Midnight Rhapsody
July 31-Aug 1 (4/4 time)
The night was an exciting rhapsody with smooth melodic measures, interrupted by staccato notes, quick interludes and undesirable notes. It started late as I wrote late using more than just the midnight oil and then read until my eyes finally felt the weight of exhaustion as if a long chord would play for a good long while held down by the piano pedal. Then dreams popped into my head which made me laugh and start up, “I have to remember this to tell Jami.” Then sleep of the andante sort until wham! whoosh, gush, pour! A huge storm hit the tin roof, wind rushed through the windows and I thought I would miss the ark. The pounding resided to a few quick notes, dampened (pun intended) until the storm traded places with sleep, as if trading prominent parts in a duet. I slept again soundly and deeply until again the storm came. And again as quickly as it came, this interlude transitioned into another chorus of gentle sleep. Morning came with a squawk of geese like that of a five year old pounding a keyboard, hitting any and all keys he can. So here I am with a song in my head, not knowing any words but humming along as I enjoy the refreshment it brought, random as it was.
The night was an exciting rhapsody with smooth melodic measures, interrupted by staccato notes, quick interludes and undesirable notes. It started late as I wrote late using more than just the midnight oil and then read until my eyes finally felt the weight of exhaustion as if a long chord would play for a good long while held down by the piano pedal. Then dreams popped into my head which made me laugh and start up, “I have to remember this to tell Jami.” Then sleep of the andante sort until wham! whoosh, gush, pour! A huge storm hit the tin roof, wind rushed through the windows and I thought I would miss the ark. The pounding resided to a few quick notes, dampened (pun intended) until the storm traded places with sleep, as if trading prominent parts in a duet. I slept again soundly and deeply until again the storm came. And again as quickly as it came, this interlude transitioned into another chorus of gentle sleep. Morning came with a squawk of geese like that of a five year old pounding a keyboard, hitting any and all keys he can. So here I am with a song in my head, not knowing any words but humming along as I enjoy the refreshment it brought, random as it was.
Goats
Friday, July 31
This afternoon I encountered a lone goat on my way home from school. He was contentedly eating away at the empty lot of grass, with not a care in the world. Suddenly, he looked up to find himself there alone. Imagine a double-taking goat. He looked right, then left, then turned a circle. He baa-ed a couple times as if to say, “Hey guys, this isn’t funny. Why don’t you come back and continue eating with me.” But when no answer followed and not a single goat heeded his cry, he started to scamper a familiar direction, at least one he had been on before. (I know this not because he pulled out his GPS and put in recent destinations, but because I’ve seen his flock pass the same intersection all week.) I trotted a little bit out of the field until hitting the road when he hit a full gallop if goats gallop. He showed urgency. He stood for a moment at the corner baa-ing. “FUNNY! I’m not laughing anymore. GUYS- where are you?” And all the while he remained with the grass in his mouth. Well, the change of location and bleating didn’t gather his friends or shepherd any better the second time. In a flash, I saw his brain process the information, “Oh Goat! I’m lost. No one had any idea where I am. I have no idea where they’re at and this silly grass is not going to reconnect me.” He dropped the grass instantly, looked both ways before crossing the road, mainly to decide on direction rather than check for traffic, and ran away. “HEY YOU GUYS!!!” I suspect they reconnected; I haven’t seen a lone goat wondering around the familiar eating hole.
This scene ran through my head all day. How much it reminded me of my relationship with God. “God, thanks for the goodness you give me- this good food (grass), nice place (the shade) and plenty of friends (other goats). I’m content hanging here. I’ll call if I need anything.” Then to my surprise God moves. Not away, like out of my life or beyond my call, but around the corner. He moves in his direction, the one I am meant to follow. So eventually I notice. I cry out, maybe move (hopefully with some conviction and speed) to where I think he is, but I’m still relying on the sweet things (the grass) God has already given me. “I’m looking for you, God. I don’t know why you’re hiding; it’s not funny. But I’m not too bad off with this blessing of these passions and life position so…” I still cry out all the while leaving one little thing at a time until the need to give up everything, grass and all is necessary, for me to run to his side. “Ok, I’m coming. I know I should obey the first time, but back there was so comfortable. Um, can you be a little bit more clear when and where you’re moving next time?”
Somehow I see this as a direct translation from one goat to another. We sang a great song in youth group entitled the Sheep Song. “I don’t want to be a goat. I just want to be a sheep. From my head down to my feet. I don’t want to be a goat.” I’m thankful God gives us a chance to change our actions and hearts even if we still look like a goat. I pray that I might be more like a sheep, from my head to my feet.
I finally have had enough sleep to stay up past midnight. Oddly enough I was even up early, before 7am to make mandazi. It was a good day, not overly creative or productive though I did help prepare 2 meals. We served spaghetti, meat sauce, peace and garlic bread for our North American meal tonight. Apple pie is hard to do without an oven, but we managed to whip up a great apple crisp. In the end I connected with people and wrestled with God and worked out my faith. I may produce a wool sweater yet.
This afternoon I encountered a lone goat on my way home from school. He was contentedly eating away at the empty lot of grass, with not a care in the world. Suddenly, he looked up to find himself there alone. Imagine a double-taking goat. He looked right, then left, then turned a circle. He baa-ed a couple times as if to say, “Hey guys, this isn’t funny. Why don’t you come back and continue eating with me.” But when no answer followed and not a single goat heeded his cry, he started to scamper a familiar direction, at least one he had been on before. (I know this not because he pulled out his GPS and put in recent destinations, but because I’ve seen his flock pass the same intersection all week.) I trotted a little bit out of the field until hitting the road when he hit a full gallop if goats gallop. He showed urgency. He stood for a moment at the corner baa-ing. “FUNNY! I’m not laughing anymore. GUYS- where are you?” And all the while he remained with the grass in his mouth. Well, the change of location and bleating didn’t gather his friends or shepherd any better the second time. In a flash, I saw his brain process the information, “Oh Goat! I’m lost. No one had any idea where I am. I have no idea where they’re at and this silly grass is not going to reconnect me.” He dropped the grass instantly, looked both ways before crossing the road, mainly to decide on direction rather than check for traffic, and ran away. “HEY YOU GUYS!!!” I suspect they reconnected; I haven’t seen a lone goat wondering around the familiar eating hole.
This scene ran through my head all day. How much it reminded me of my relationship with God. “God, thanks for the goodness you give me- this good food (grass), nice place (the shade) and plenty of friends (other goats). I’m content hanging here. I’ll call if I need anything.” Then to my surprise God moves. Not away, like out of my life or beyond my call, but around the corner. He moves in his direction, the one I am meant to follow. So eventually I notice. I cry out, maybe move (hopefully with some conviction and speed) to where I think he is, but I’m still relying on the sweet things (the grass) God has already given me. “I’m looking for you, God. I don’t know why you’re hiding; it’s not funny. But I’m not too bad off with this blessing of these passions and life position so…” I still cry out all the while leaving one little thing at a time until the need to give up everything, grass and all is necessary, for me to run to his side. “Ok, I’m coming. I know I should obey the first time, but back there was so comfortable. Um, can you be a little bit more clear when and where you’re moving next time?”
Somehow I see this as a direct translation from one goat to another. We sang a great song in youth group entitled the Sheep Song. “I don’t want to be a goat. I just want to be a sheep. From my head down to my feet. I don’t want to be a goat.” I’m thankful God gives us a chance to change our actions and hearts even if we still look like a goat. I pray that I might be more like a sheep, from my head to my feet.
I finally have had enough sleep to stay up past midnight. Oddly enough I was even up early, before 7am to make mandazi. It was a good day, not overly creative or productive though I did help prepare 2 meals. We served spaghetti, meat sauce, peace and garlic bread for our North American meal tonight. Apple pie is hard to do without an oven, but we managed to whip up a great apple crisp. In the end I connected with people and wrestled with God and worked out my faith. I may produce a wool sweater yet.
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