when my two worlds collide, weird things happen

• I am writing this blog from the comforts of my mudhut. Yes, my house is made from mud and yes, there are naked children hunting rats with handmade bows and arrows just outside my door. Yet, due to the boundary breaking capabilities of technology, I can now harvest wheat with a sickle in the morning and enjoy Ree's, Pioneer Woman, blog, "chats" with family and friends and mostly, refreshingly Western Facebook updates in the evening.
• The other day I found a cow, on my porch, drinking my dirty dishwater.
• While working to place teachers on the new 2012 school time-table, I actually had to ask the question, "Can this teacher read?". Side-note, he can't.
  
• The other morning, thanks to a clear cell phone network, I was able to simultaneously talk with my sister Stephanie, in Washington State, and my friend Joyce, here in Nagishot. Stephanie had just gotten home from town and tucked her brood into bed for the night. Joyce was just coming up from the stream, carrying 40 liters of water on her head and her quite large and incredibly adorable baby on her back. Stephanie, couldn't believe how clear the cell phone connection was. Joyce, couldn't understand why I was talking to myself. I, couldn't stop laughing.

Carrying water with Joyce.

• In an effort to meet our need for physical activity, Katie, Lauren and I have started Jillian Michael's, 30 Day Shred. Have you heard of it? It's stinkin' INTENSE! Yesterday, hiding behind the eucalyptus trees, in the area now designated as our gym, we begged Jillian for mercy while barely, and I do mean barely, making it through our 12th straight day of jumping planks and power lunges (whoop whoop!!!). Meanwhile, on the other side of the stick fence, unaware of our "traditional dances", a large group of Didinga men blew large whistles made from cow horns, sang ancient chants about their harvest and jumped up and down until a dust cloud rose over their heads.
  
  
  

Poi and Yaya weren't really sure they liked, Jillian.
I know the feeling ...

• A few months ago, three men from Texas visited our team here in Nagishot. Obviously, their visit led to a Didinga/Khawaja monkey feast and hoe down. Under a full moon a monkey was roasted and tentatively sampled, Abbi played her fiddle and then, we all danced. We Twisted, 2 Stepped or, as our Didinga friends like to call it, Stepped 2ed, in long Sudanese/American lines we Electric Slid back and forth through the dust, small naked boys did the Rock Lobster, we even broke out the Macarena. Didinga people LOVE to dance. Think of an occasion, any occasion, and they have a dance for it; there are specific day dances, night dances, praise dances, harvest dances... However, I'm pretty confident that all of the men, women and children gathered together that gloriously strange November night had never experienced anything quite like our Texas hoe down. I know that I hadn't.

Monkey, it's what's for dinner.

Life is sometimes very strange here in Sudan.
Blending my Western roots with my daily Didinga life,
can be challenging.
However, the challenge is a happy one. A funny one.
Most everyday I'm still amazed that God
allows me to journey through life here,
in this foreign land, amongst people I so dearly love.
He is good.

Oh my, look at the time!
I've got to go pay the 8 year old boy
who's been diligently working on my fence.
Child Labor Laws. Um...we don't really have those.

Elly's Visit

Elly's surprise visit went off without a hitch.

Moments were spent visiting old Didinga friends, reminiscing about those ol' Didinga days in Napep and praying about the future, specifically Elly's as she prepares for and wonders about her next life chapter. The days were comfortable. Our time together was sweet.

Flying from Juba to Nagishot on the 206

Nagishot did a fine job of welcoming us home -
sunset landing, yes please!

Elly's first weekend back in Sudan was a busy one.
Our pilot, Jerry and his oldest daughter, Olivia were visiting,
Phil and Linda were in from Uganda
and a few other guys (not pictured), working in a nearby village,
climbed up the mountain for the weekend as well.
From Top Left to Right:
Mark, Diana, Katie, Jonathan, Abbi, Phil, Trey, Jerry
Bottom Left to Right:
Lauren with Adelaide, Olivia, Me, Elly and Linda

Elly and I did a lot of hiking while she was here.

And a lot of visiting with old friends.

Playing locally made instruments.

She's still got it!
Elly hauling water.

Elly brought along enough American snacks
to keep a small army hopping.
She also blessed us all by making her famous Didinga calzones.
They were quite tasty!

Calzones!!!

Old Friends - Elly and Lino from Napep with Dario in the background.

Elly, sure do hope you "surprise" me again real soon.
Love you!

Volleyball

A few weeks ago, we had quite the crew of out-of-towners here in Nagishot. We were lucky enough to host our pilot, Jerry and his oldest daughter, Olivia. Two fellas working in a nearby Didinga village with the NGO, Yokefellows, climbed up the mountain for the weekend as well. Our wonderful bosses, Phil and Linda, were in from Uganda and Elly was visiting from Florida.

Our dinner table swelled to 15 places! We ate grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade tomato soup.

We played intense games of Settlers.

We laughed.

And... we played volleyball. I LOVE volleyball!

Trey snapped these great shots of our Sunday afternoon game. Enjoy.

Who needs a net when you have a long piece of string?

January Prayer Update

The new school year starts in February. I am really excited!
Please pray for:

• Our students. Pray for their academic and spiritual futures. Ask God to open their ears to hear and truly understand the Gospel, so that their hearts may fully accept the love of Christ Jesus.
• Our National Teachers. This year my responsibilities will be divided between classroom teaching and training teachers. As the saying goes, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." Please pray that my "leading" is God directed and that my Didinga "horses" are ready to drink.
• Our Khwaja Teachers. I am no longer the only Khwaja (or white) teacher in Nagishot. This year, newcomers Abbi, Trey and Mark will be joining me in the schools. Please pray for us all as we navigate teaching in a foreign land in a foreign language. Pray for patience, servant hearts, perseverance and God's love for the Didinga wee ones in our care.
• Health. Staying healthy continues to be a major struggle for me in Sudan. Please pray for a healthy body, one fit to fight off the many illness I daily encounter. Pray also that I would not grow discouraged when sick, but rather find refuge in our Lord's embrace.
• Language. I am incredibly grateful for my new language helper and friend, Joyce. Under the guidance of her strong teaching skills and endless encouragement, my Didinga has improved. My goal this year is to attain a Level 3 in all areas of Language Acquisition, including: vocabulary, fluency, comprehension, grammar and pronunciation. Reaching this goal will not be easy. However, it is more than worthwhile. Please pray that I would remain committed to consistently studying language. I am all to aware of the real barriers caused from language deficiencies. Barriers that can impede my teaching, building strong and meaningful relationships and sharing the Word of God.
  
• My personal relationship with Christ. Pray as David did in the 62nd Psalm, that my soul would, "...find rest in God alone" Pray that I would know that, "He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress." Pray that I will never be shaken. That I would hear and hold dear those powerful words, "that you, O God, are strong, and that you, O Lord, are loving."
  

Thank you so much for praying!
In Him,
KIM

Look who I surprised surprising me tonight.

Elly is back in Africa for a visit!

I didn't have any idea she was coming until last Sunday. She had been meaning to surprise me, planning to pop out at the Juba airport and yell something like, "Got any room in that tiny plane for me?".

That little weasel!

However, we are missionaries serving with AIM, not secret agents working with the CIA. Fortunately or unfortunately, however your cookie crumbles, her top-secret, secret arrival ended up slipping out.

(Right about now are you wondering just how many times I am going to use the word secret in this blog post? Hang in there, we've still got a few to go.)

Once I was in on the secret, but Elly didn't know that I knew the secret, the fun really started.

Last Sunday, right after I discovered that Elly was coming, I called her. Who can resist the urge to make a friend squirm? Questions like, "So, what does your work week look like?" and "When do you think you will be back in Africa?" just couldn't be avoided!

I really like surprises, but I also really like catching other people in theirs!

By Road

So, last week I had a real adventure! A real, "Oh my, I'm out of my comfort zone!", "Perhaps, this wasn't a good idea.", "Hold it together, don't you dare cry in front of this crowd of Sudanese men." sort of adventure.

It all started a few months back when the new government of the Republic of Southern Sudan mandated that all flights entering or existing the country must proceed through one of three entry points - ours being Juba.

Africa Inland Mission considers Sudan to be a "hardship zone" and therefore requires all Sudan missionaries to leave their area of service once every three months. For us, living in Didinga, these periods of time out of Sudan are not only necessary for mental, physical and spiritual rest, but also logistically essential as all of our grocery shopping, banking and medical care must be done out of Nagishot.

Traveling through Juba is quite expensive. Eager to avoid these new travel costs, I started looking for alternative travel plans.

And this, my friends, is where the real adventure began!

The plan, which seemed to be a great one and might have been if everything had gone accordingly was to: hike down the mountain to Chukudum early on the 1st, catch public transportation to a small village called Camp 15, located smack dab in the middle of nowhere Sudan, spend the night there and, the following morning at 8 am, meet Daniel, a missionary friend, who I would then travel by road with onto Nairobi.

I was fairly confident in the plan, as confident as one ever dares to be in Sudan. However, it didn't take long for the plan completely disintegrate.

Problem Number 1:
The week between Christmas and New Year's was marked with extreme fatigue and a general feeling of "offness" for me. I tried, with no success, treating the amoebas I knew were hiding out in my stomach. However, despite the medicine I'd already taken, I woke early on the morning of the 30th with stomach cramps. I tossed, turned and moaned my way to 9 am. The rest of that LONG and painful day was spent vomiting.

I rolled in my new year from the comfort of my twin bed, sleeping most of the day and turning in for the night about 4 hours before the official start of the Sudanese New Year. It was a pretty bland New Year's Eve.

Still feeling off, I woke at 4:30 on the morning of the 1st, forced myself to eat my first meal in days and started the long hike down the mountain to Chukudum.

Liaga was nice enough to escort me down the mountain.
He was keen on jogging most of the way.
My tender stomach wasn't impressed with the jog. Errr... I mean, hike.

Problem Number 2:

Though I'd been assured on numerous occasions that finding transport from Chukudum to Camp 15 on the 1st would not be a problem, I quickly realized once I arrived in Chukudum, that the hope of securing a vehicle to the moon was just about as plausible as finding a taxi to Camp 15.

Feeling wheezy and worn out, frustrated and far from home, I spent the first day of 2012 oscillating between hot walks through the village searching for transport and sleeping in a random friend of a friend's house.

By nightfall, the hope of meeting Daniel seemed hopeless. Due to the New Year's celebrations traveling was an impossibility. The limited cell phone network meant that calling or emailing Daniel to let him know of my impending delays was also not an option.

After careful consideration, I decided to take my chances with transportation in the early morning hours and pray for the best.

Though I was more than tired, the night in Chukudum was sleepless.

The New Year's celebrations were in full swing by noon and by nightfall it was hard to find a sober Didinga. Though I wanted, no needed, to sleep, the loud drumming, yelling from both inside and outside the house and street dancing made resting difficult.

Which led to....

Problem Number 3:
With most the village up past 4am, the promise of a sunrise departure didn't quite materialize.

At half past 8, a half an hour after I was to meet Daniel, I finally was on my way to Camp 15.

Our late Chukudum departure and a the twenty minute layover devoted to buying corn on the cob led to....

Problem Number 4:
At 10:40 am, two hours and forty minutes after my planned meeting time, I finally reached Camp 15. After waiting for as long as he could, Daniel left Camp 15 at 10:30am. Exactly ten minutes before I arrived!!!

A white person in Camp 15 is something of a novelty. When I arrived asking if anyone had seen the white man, I quickly learned that he had just been there, drank a soda, waited and left moments before my arrival. One helpful lady, trying to encourage me, pointed out his dusty tire tracks.

Problem Number 5:
In a different world, a non-Sudanese one, I simply would have hailed a cab, explained my situation and most likely, caught up to Daniel within the half hour.

However, I was not in a different world. I was in my world. A world where the only vehicle to be seen was the slower than molasses taxi I had already been struggling with for two days. The very taxi which after hours of negotiations had promised to take me to Camp 15 on the evening of the 1st, but didn't. The same ol' taxi who promised me as we were leaving Chukudum at 8:30 am that we would make it to Camp 15 by 8am!!!

Eager for a second opinion, I called my boss. After checking the safety of the road, he encouraged me not to turn back for home, but to keep pursuing an eventual rendezvous with Daniel.

And so, with no other transportation option, I resigned myself to board the slowest taxi on the face of the Earth for my fast pursuit of Daniel.

Problem Number Six:
Traveling through no man's land Sudan as a single white woman is not really the best idea. In fact, most Sudanese women shy away from traveling solo. If a woman is forced to travel alone, she will traditionally carry a large rock as a form of protection. Seriously.

With all of this in mind, I was quite intentional about traveling with Liaga.

Unfortunately, Liaga had other plans. Shortly after boarding the slowest taxi in the world (which from this point forward will be referred to as the Slosh) Liaga grew tired, set down my bag and quickly informed me that he was going back to Chukudum. With that, he ran off and jumped in a taxi heading in the opposite direction.

Problem Number Seven:
After a forty-five minute wait, the Sloth finally departed.

The drive to Kapeota was a bit long, hot and quite crowded. Jammed up against the door, on a seat too tall for the vehicle, each bump, and I assure you there were many, caused me to forcefully bonk my head on the roof and my right arm against the door.

I arrived in Kapeota, a town I had only briefly visited once before, flustered, bruised and clearly not thinking straight.

Hoping for some insights as to the whereabouts of my elusive ride, I dimwittedly greeted the traffic guards in Didinga. The fact that Kapeota is a Taposa territory (Taposa being the fierce enemy of the Didinga) completely slipped my mind. After this major language/cultural blunder, any hope of gaining a bit of insight into Daniel's whereabouts was a long shot as the guards refused to even acknowledge my presence. Maybe I'm picking up more Didinga culture then I thought or perhaps these helpful guards were misguided by my freckles and strawberry blond hair, mistaking me for a Didinga. Who knows???

Anywho, things got worse from there. Much, much worse.

Problem Number 8:
Unable to speak the local language, alone, pretending to have things under control , but really not even sure as to which direction I was headed, I started to feel a bit out of my comfort zone.

I took a boda (a hired motorcycle) to the city center, figuring that all hired transportation would be operating from this point.

I was right. Finally.

After several chaotic, yet futile, interactions with potential taxis, I was unanimously informed that, "the time had gone" and travel onto Loki was an impossibility until the following day.

This turned out to be the straw the broke the camel's back.

Choking back tears and simply refusing to cry in front of the crowd of Sudanese men, I retreated. I walked through the gawking crowds, simultaneously encouraging myself that everything would be fine and worrying that it wouldn't. I prayed.

Not really sure where to go, I walked to the only store I had previously been to. Thankfully, the storekeeper recognized me, seems that I stick out a bit in these parts of the world, and asked me how I was doing.

With the prospect of spending the night alone in a foreign village, I wasn't really doing that well. I nodded to him, still unable to speak, bought a water and turned my back to the crowd struggling to compose myself.

My struggle was obvious. The storekeeper again inquired if I as ok. I shook my head and managed to whisper that I was. Unconvinced, the only other woman in the shop searched my downcast eyes, asking if I was alright. Taking a deep breath, I explained my situation.

The storekeeper asked me not to worry and pointed out a taxi he was certain was headed towards Loki.

Taking his directions, I tried not to worry and headed towards the taxis.

Problem Number 9:
I asked everyone whom I could clearly communicate with where the taxi was headed, and each time I was assured that the said taxi was headed towards Loki. I did not really believe that I would make it to Loki in that taxi, but at the time it was my only real option.

I waited and waited and waited for the taxi van to fill with passengers.

After two hours of waiting the taxi's conductor, a man whose job it is to fill the taxi with passengers, approached my window.

After a brief greeting, the conductor whispered, "This taxi will not reach Loki tonight. The border closes at 5pm. If you travel with us, you will have to spend the night at the border. You must find a different option."

This man was a gift from God. An answered prayer.

Mr. Angel Conductor quietly told me to hire a personal taxi. Earlier, I had considered this option, but after much thought decided against it as I was nervous about traveling alone. However, at this point, with the clock nearing 2 pm, I weighed my options and settled with what I considered to be the least of the two evils.

I asked Mr. Angel Conductor to bring me his most trusted taxi man. And to the shouts and angry threats of his fellow workers he did so, giving his business to his opponent and possibly putting his very job on the line.

Problem Number 10:
So, with less than three hours to reach the border, I prayerfully entered the taxi.

I explained to the driver that I could NOT sleep at the border, that I MUST reach Loki tonight and that if he failed to deliver me to my said destination ON TIME I would NOT pay him the agreed upon amount, but rather the cheap public transportation price.

He seemed to get the idea, or so I thought.

Rushing away from the taxi park we traveled oh, about.... three whole city blocks before stopping for gas. You see, in Africa, it is quite rare to hire a taxi with a full and prepared for journey, tank of gas.

We pulled in to the gas station at 2:05 pm, exactly 2 hours and 55 minutes before the border closed.

I spent the next 40 minutes impatiently waiting for the driver to fuel the car and stewing about the fine art of inefficiency. I truly love Africa's slow-paced, laid-back approach to life. This approach drives many Westerners crazy, but it suites me - or it does 98% of the time. Yet, on this particular day my patience had run out. I had nothing left. I was quietly fuming with irritation over the disorganized, ineffective approach towards well, seemingly everything.

Eventually, my desire to be culturally sensitive, to blend in and not rock the boat ceased to be an option. I could wait no longer. I exited and locked the taxi, squeezed past the group of staring Taposa men and wandered behind the gas station in search of my driver.

I found him. With as much grace as I could muster, I asked him what in the wide, wide world of sports he was doing. To which he calmly informed me the generator, which allows gas to be pumped, was broken.

Nearing my boiling point, I kindly reminded this man that I would not pay him unless he got me through the border in the next two hours and 15 minutes!!!

At this time, Mr. Angel Conductor reappeared and filled the car with several water bottles full of spare gas he had somehow procured.

I sincerely thanked this kind-hearted man and quickly got back in the car.

The next two hours and 11 minutes were spent flying down the dirt roads of Sudan.

Though my taxi driver attempted to repeatedly convince me that there was no danger of missing the border, the speed with which he was driving and the fact that he kept checking his watch every ten minutes were telling signs that we might not.

I road most of the way with my eyes on the road, my hands gripping the seat and my mind wandering. I prayed continually. Asking God to forgive my impatience and short-temper. I asked for protection and peace about the uncertain night ahead.

At 4:56 pm, with four minutes to spare, we cleared the Kenyan border! I had never, in all my travels, been so relieved to enter a country!

About an hour and a half later, after more than 37 hours of VERY. STRESSFUL.TRAVEL, I finally made it to Loki. And a few moments after that, I finally met up with Daniel.

Daniel apologized for leaving me, though it really wasn't his fault, and informed me that he wasn't too worried about me - "I knew you'd find some way to get here."

I wonder if he also knew that I'd spend two solid days trying not to blubber in public like a big fat baby?

That first night out of Sudan was wonderfully blissful.

I washed off the day's sweat and dust with water that came pouring out of a wall. I think that they are calling this contraption a shower. I ate what was my third meal in four days! I devoured cheese, oh wonderful cheese, for the first time in three months! I didn't have to sleep at the border, by myself!

The following two days of road travel to Nairobi went off without a glitch - well, ok so there was one small problem of the brakes temporarily refusing to work - but besides that, it was great!

Loki Sunrise

Kenya

I am pretty sure some people pay a great deal of money for this -
4 wheeling through the Kenyan Desert!
Super FUN!

Traffic!

More Traffic - Turkana boys and their cows.

Out of the bush and headed into town.

The Elusive Group - Daniel, me, Susanna and Simon

A Merry Christmas in Sudan

Homemade Eggnog!

I enjoyed another very merry Christmas in Sudan this year.
This year's highlights included:

• Sharing Christmas Eve breakfast with my new hutmates: french toast, stewed peaches and local wild berries, homemade whipped cream and lattes! Yummy!
  
• Watching the fellas slaughter our Christmas dinner - a really fat bull.
• Seeing the church working together to selflessly donate and prepare a Christmas feast big enough to feed most of our mountaintop community!
• A clear internet connection on Christmas evening, which aloud me to chat with my family on their Christmas morning.

Church on Christmas morning -
Joshua led the congregation through each and every verse of,
"If you're happy and you know it....".
Sure, it was a bit nontraditional, but hey what can I say...

Nagishot Youth Choir

We sang a bunch, we danced a little, we prayed,
we rejoiced at the coming of the King!

Didinga men ready for a funeral
errrr... I mean church.

Church Receiving Line
Each Sunday after church, the church body lines up to shake hands.
After this friendly exchange we often dance.

And speaking of dancing... last year one of my favorite parts of my Sudanese Christmas was the dancing. Joyful, spontaneous dancing.
This year there wasn't a great deal of dancing going on, but there was a whole lot of cooking... As I briefly mentioned early, the Nagishot church hosted a HUGE community feast on Christmas day. And, believe it or not, cooking for oh, let's just say a few hundred people, is not only time consuming, but extremely exhausting.
Though the urge to dance was still there, most of us were too busy, hot and worn on out to do so. Maybe next time...

The day's menu consisted of stewed beef and ahot.
Ahot, the Didinga staple food, is made from boiled water and corn meal.
When made correctly, ahot bares a surprising resemblance to Elmer's paste.
It's not my favorite - though, what do I know?
The Didinga love it!

Full belly = Happy Child

Little ones waiting for their Christmas meal - ahot and beef stew.

Snuggles from Yaya - my favorite Christmas gift.

Adelaide's favorite gift - her new tire swing.

Sisters, Linda and Acholin, showing off their new Christmas clothes.
Didinga people do not traditionally exchange gifts on Christmas.
Rather, those who can afford it (and even those who probably can't) purchase a new outfit for the special day. In most cases, these "Christmas Clothes" replace the previous year's "Christmas Clothes" and in turn become a child's sole outfit for the coming year.

Yaya smiles in her new Christmas fatigues???
In my humble opinion, a new Christmas dress might have been a better option for this baby girl - but I will be the first to say that she looks mighty cute in her new army gear.

My new hutmates: Abbi, Trey, me and Katie.

Thanks to Trey's determination we were able to take a few house pictures without the mangy compound dog, Simba, in the foreground.

Hoping that your Christmas, wherever and however it was celebrated, was filled with the true joy of Emmanuel.
Merry Christmas from our huts to yours!