Old Foot Email - Greeting from Tenwek Hospital

I am posting this old Tenwek Hospital email for those of you who read my blog, but do not receive my email updates.

Hello Everyone,
This past month has been a busy one.

As a precaution against potential election violence, Africa Inland
Mission, along with most other agencies working in the area, required
all workers to take a "preemptive leave", therefore exiting the
country for the duration of the Sudanese election process. Today,
post-election, we all are thanking God that the elections were a
mostly peaceful process.

Leaving Sudan on April 7th, I traveled to Nairobi and spent a few days
catching up with friends, watching a Kenyan high school basketball
tournament and running general errands in the big city.

I spent one, hard to describe because it was so amazing, week on the
beautiful Indian ocean island of Zanzibar, before making the trip to
Mbita, Kenya. Two weeks were spent in and around Mbita, teaching a
little at the school, helping with the girls' football tournament and
attending my first Kenyan wedding.

About a week and a half ago, after a walk in Mbita, I found that the
top of my foot sort of stung and itched. I didn't think too much
about it and all but forgot about it until the next morning when I
noticed a small puss pocket on the top of my foot. I drained the puss
and went about my day. However, that night the top of my foot was
hot, red, painful and starting to swell. By the next day, my foot was
swollen to the point that my toes were turning a lovely shade of blue.

Last Thursday morning, my friend Joe took me to the clinic for the
first time. The attending told me that my foot was infected, tried to
unsuccessfully squeeze some puss out and prescribed me 250 mg of
amoxacillion. Unfortunately, this did little to nothing for my foot,
even after I upped my dosage to 500 mg.

At the wedding last Saturday, my foot was swollen to the point that it
was no longer possible to put my right sandal on. If you think a
white woman at a Kenyan wedding is conspicuous, try being a white
woman with a huge red foot, limping around, with only one shoe on,
while carrying the other.

A bit unsure as to whether or not my foot was going to fall off, Joe
and I headed to Kenyan clinic number 2. Doctor 2 agreed with
doctor-like person number 1, that my foot was infected and prescribed
a stronger, more expensive, but ultimately ineffective antibiotic.

Following doctors orders, I spent two days trying to rest my foot in
Mbita. However, my foot didn't seem to notice the effort , somehow
growing more red, hot, swollen and painful with each new morning.

On Tuesday, I left Mbita en route to Nairobi, on my way back to Sudan.
Traveling by road, our group stopped off at Tenwek Hospital, a good
mission hospital in Bomet, Kenya. We planned to drop off a Kenyan
friend there for surgery, while also having my foot quickly checked,
before I made my way on to Nairobi.

Mission surgeon, Dr. Dan Galet, a friend of a friend, was nice enough
to take time out of his super busy day to take a look at my foot.
After looking at the x-rays and ruling out a bone infection, he
decided to open up, drain and pack the wound. This part of the day
was really not that fun. He put me on crutches, instructed me to
rest, prescribed a stronger oral antibiotic and told me to come back
in one week.

Planning on returning to Mbita in the morning, we spent the night at
Tenwek. That evening, I came down with a bad fever and started to
feel really rotten. In the morning, my foot was throbbing and I felt
like I had been mowed down by a lorry.

Later that morning, Dr. Galet unexpectedly asked to see my foot again
before we made the four hour journey back to Mbita. When Dr. Galet
and the two other nice doctors accompanying him took off my foot
bandage we all saw that the infection had spread over night. When
they heard about the fever, the three of them got all serious and
started to talk about an IV and admitting me to the hospital. The
truth of the matter was, I had felt rotten and a bit feverish for
days, but admitting me to a hospital for a little foot infection
seemed like a tad of an overreaction. However, the three of them
didn't seem to want my opinion on the matter.

The day's fun had only really just begun though. After having some
medicated gauze jammed inside my open wound (I am sorry that you could
not have been there for this fun Kenyan experience), I said goodbye to
my friends who were all heading back to Mbita and an IV was started.
If I didn't know it before, I am convinced now, that I will NEVER be a
intravenous drug addict. Unfortunately, I seemed to have been
slightly allegeric to the drug that was being pumped directly into my
bloodstream.

So, after the IV was complete, I was an awesome shade of red, itching
like crazy, sick to my stomach and feverish. Barely holding it
together, I hobbled on my crutches down to my room, only to discover
that I was not checked in and would have to go back up the staircase
and hillside to the main hospital to check in. With that, I hobbled
into the bathroom, laid down on the floor and had myself a good
what-in-the-world-is-

happening-to-me cry.

Yesterday, was much better. To counteract the allergic reaction from
the IV, I took two Benadryl. The box warned me that I may experience,
"marked drowsiness" and I would have to say that the eight hour nap I
took might validate this statement.

Today, I am feeling much more like myself. Although I have not looked
at my foot in a day or so (I am working up to the non-wimpy state of
mind it is going to take to change my wound packing, like they have
asked me to do), it is feeling so much better. The fever has gone and
not returned. Tenwek is a good hospital, with good doctors. The
hospital compound is beyond comfortable with cold water for drinking,
hot water for bathing, electricity and wireless internet. I'm quite
fortunate that this infection happened here in Kenya, the land of
paved roads and trained medical professionals, rather than in Sudan,
where hundreds of dollars on an air evacuation would have been spent.
Forced dependence on others is a humbling experience for
sure, one that has left me incredibly grateful to so many friends here
in Kenya - Joe, Steve and Judi, Dr. Galet - those who have helped me,
in my helplessness.

My IV treatment will be keeping me here at the hospital for at least
another three days. As of now, there is no definite word on my plans
after Tenwek. Dr. Galet has told me that my travel back home to Sudan
must be put on hold until my foot is well on its way to recovery. And
I have to agree with him.

Thank you all so much for your prayers and little notes of
encouragement. I feel quite loved and for that I am thankful!

With love, appreciation and an ever improving right foot,
KIM

Healthy Again! Email - How to Email me in Sudan - Prayer Requests

Tenwek Hospital - "We Treat - Jesus Heals"
I think, that the structure to the left is the hospital's new surgical ward.

I am bit surprised that I was awake long enough to take this picture.
To say the least, I was very well rested at Tenwek.

Day 17 - On the road to recovery!

(This is a bit of the gauze that was jammed into the hole in my foot every evening. By the time that I thought it might be cool to have a picture of the nasty MRSA, it was almost healed up. I apologize to all of you doctorish friends. I know that you would have enjoyed a gorier shot, but did you happen to notice how all of the skin around the sore pealed off? That's pretty gross, isn't it?)

Hi Everybody,
I am healthy again and praising God for it! It turns out that my
'little infection' was quite a bit worse than I originally thought. It
is believed that I had something called MRSA, an antibiotic resistant
infection. Supposedly, the IV drugs and oral antibiotic that I was
prescribed are the only drugs capable of fighting this particular
infection. Drugs, that Dr. Galet my doctor at Tenwek, was pleasantly
surprised were even in stock, as they are incredibly hard to come by
here in Kenya.

A few days before I left the hospital, I hobbled up to Tenwek's
pharmacy window wanting to pick up my oral antibiotic. Those pesky
HIPPA laws haven't quite caught on here in Kenya and neither has a
little something called a line. So, there I stood in the literal mob
of people, holding my ground, while at the same time making sure
nobody stepped on my almost MRSA free right foot. When I finally got
up to the counter, I was informed ever so nonchalantly that I owed
10,500 Kenyan Shillings for my eight day antibiotic. To put this in
perspective, a ten day prescription of amoxicillin costs about 300
Kenyan Shillings. So, you can imagine that I, and the crowd of Kenyans
pressed in at my sides, were a bit put off by this new figure.
Thinking that I surely must have misunderstood her, I asked her to
repeat the figure two more times, before I asked to see the paper and
do the math again for myself.

Later, after paying about 1/4 of monthly salary on those fancy pills,
I asked Dr. Galet if I had been overcharged. He informed me that
those particular pills, the ones necessary for my infection, cost
about $100 per pill in America!!! I saved about $94 per pill here in
Kenya.

It really is such a blessing that this all happened so close to
Tenwek. It is a bit scary to think what could have happened if I was
in Sudan or how much money I would have spent if all of this would
have happened in America. God is really so good!



Other exciting news:

• After many failed attempts to secure a flight back into Sudan, Elly and I are scheduled to go home to Didinga this Wednesday, May 26th.I am eager to get back in there.
• Our houses have FINALLY been finished. Which means we will be upgrading from the tents to our very own mudhuts!!! Insert HUGE grin here!!!
• Elly, my awesome fellow missionary lady, who just happens to be one of the most generous people I have ever met, bought us a solar panel. What does this mean? Well, it means that we will have some power and EMAIL!!!! I would LOVE to hear from all of you in the Hills, but please remember these small details when communicating:

1. When in Sudan email me at: kim.davey@aimint.net (ironically, I only check kiminsudan@gmail.com when I am out of Sudan).
2. Satellite Email is NOT cheap!!! Help cut costs by removing any unnecessary text from emails. When replying, erase any prior text we have exchanged.
3. Use HTML - plain text only!
4. Do NOT send pictures or forwards (I won't get them if you do).
   

Prayer Requests:

• Please do pray for the health of our mission team (especially Tianne and myself). This past term has been an unhealthy one: amoebas, ghardaia, flues, colds, MRSA... Though we joke about our abnormal stomach activity, the 'sickness of the week' and the fact that our bodies seem to be breaking down in Sudan, we would truly appreciate your prayers for our health. Pray that our bodies would be strong and that the enemy would not use sickness as a means of keeping us from our work in Didinga.
• We thank God for the peaceful elections that took place this April and continue to pray for a peaceful referendum this coming January.
• I am so grateful for my job teaching in the Nagishot school! I am incredibly thankful for my eager and hard working students. Pray that my students would leave our classroom each day with more than academic answers, but with a hunger in their heart for the Gospel, for the Savior.
• Continue to pray for the salvation of our friends in Napep. Pray also for eyes to be opened and The Word to be preached and understood at the new Napep church.
  

Sending my love to you,
KIM

"Now, what is it that you do exactly?"

In late January when we first returned to Didinga, a conscious effort was made to take things slow. Not wanting to rush into anything and intentionally planning to set aside a good portion of time for language learning and relationship building, I hoped to start my work in the schools after the April elections. However, things don’t always go as planned. At least, not when you are living in Sudan!

In early February, Eunice asked me to tutor Facearah, one of the young girls living on the compound. I jumped at the opportunity!

After two days tutoring Facearah, five more pupils were added to my group. Within the week, it was decided that I should take over P3, the oldest class of students at the Nagishot Nursery School. Later that month, for many complicated reasons, I became the only teacher teaching in Nagishot.

Last term, my class of P3 students consisted of a group of boys and girls anywhere from nine to twelve years old, academically functioning at a kindergarten to maybe, on a very good day, 2^nd grade level.

I am convinced that it would be nearly impossible to find a more eager group of learners. As these students do not speak anything but the most rudimentary English, I am attempting to teach them in Didinga. When Eunice first suggested that I take over the P3 class, I laughed and reminded her that this might be a bit difficult considering the fact that I was not yet fluent in Didinga. She was convinced that I was ready (or maybe, just really desperate for a teacher) and somehow with the daily grace of God, I have been able to teach without a translator. It is.... hard, to say the least, but my students are incredibly flexible and very patient with my sad attempts at speaking their language.

However, at this point, my language skills simply are not at the level needed to adequately teach Christian education. This is a concern. I am looking – alright, begging – for a Didinga translator, to assist me with these lessons, but sadly, no one has jumped at the opportunity. Please join me in praying for that perfect person to come alongside me in sharing the Good News to this group of little ones.

At this point, our curriculum is quite basic. We are focusing on math, reading, writing and social studies. Math is taught with an emphasis on number sense. Reading is by far my students’ weakest subject (which is not surprising when one considers the fact that their mother tongue is an unwritten language). The seven continents and the great BIG world outside of Didinga were introduced in social studies and geography.

P3 students showing off their world maps

Trying to work against the African educational norm of rote memorization, much of my day is spent asking my bewildered students these seemingly simple questions: “How do you know?” and “Why do you think so?”. These, “Let’s THINK!!!” questions are usually met with deer in the headlight gazes. In fact, after weeks of asking my students to explain their thinking, I literally danced around the room the first time I got a response. We’re all learning…

Though we didn't have one Snow Day last term, we had several Rain and even a few, Wind Days. Teaching in this agricultural society means that some days, the majority of my students are hoeing a roe in a distant field, rather than learning their letter sounds in my classroom. In fact, on one particular day, the whole school (including myself) went on a literal “field trip”. In a few hours, working together we managed to clear the field for Eunice’s elderly mother.

In the near future, my role in the school may be two-fold. Eunice and Pastor William have voiced a desire for a teacher trainer. However, with the apparent lack of serious Didinga teachers, I am not yet convinced that this is where God wants me to spend my time and energy. Time will indeed tell.

When I return to the Hills next week, if I am still the only teacher teaching in Nagishot, I plan to split my work day; teaching the Baby Class and P1 students in the morning and the P3 students in the afternoon.

I am excited to get back to the classroom. I LOVE my job!

Nagishot Nursery School

Inside the P3 classroom -
I was pleasantly surprised by the school facilities.
This is a VERY nice Sudanese school!

This picture was taken in the school supply room.
Thanks to the generosity of the
Evangelical Free Church in Austin, Texas,
I have a load of teaching materials.
Thank YOU so much!!!

Reunions

After so many months out of the Hills, it was so good to see our Napep friends again. In January, when we first returned to Sudan, many of our friends from Napep came to visit us in Nagishot.

Pia, my homestay mom, came to visit. She wanted to show off her newest baby, her sixth! The baby boy, William Abona (pastor), was named after Pastor William.

And the best reunion... Well without a doubt, the best reunion happened that first Sunday when our Napep friends hiked the ten miles to Nagishot, surprising us at church.

The church service had already started when Tianne, Elly and I saw those familiar faces walking towards us down the trail. We couldn't stay seated, we didn't care if we were interrupting the service. We jumped from our benches, running to them as they ran to us. In the middle of church, with tears in everyone's eyes we all said, one time after another, how happy we were to see each other again. Our Didinga friends, kept repeating how they had prayed for our return. For once, the emotion was mutual - no longer one-sided. It was a very, very special moment!

With so many friends coming from Napep, the Nagishot church was over-flowing!

Small Friend

After church, we all caught up over a Didinga style rice potluck.

It was a great reunion!

On a sadder and slightly more ironic note - while we were all gathered at church and fellowshipping over rice, Martha, my dearest Napep buddy, was just outside the compound.

I am confident that our Lord is working in Napep. Hearts are softening. Lives are being transformed. However, some things have yet to change. That Sunday afternoon, I found my dear friend Martha in the small Nagishot marketplace. She was nine months pregnant, drunk and selling her home brew.

Remembering the mighty work our Father has done in my life, with a confidence in His love and perfect timing - I continue to pray for my dear friend, Martha. And maybe you could too...

Going on About Safari

This is Safari.
Through a series of sad events that I won't pretend to understand and feel quite uncomfortable posting on the internet, a solo Safari came to live on the Nagishot compound.

It is hard to say, but my best guess is that Safari is anywhere from two and a half to three years old. In my opinion, the perfect age of childishness.

She is a blessing. Most Nagishot mornings, it was her toothy grin and open arms, that greeted me as I staggered from tent to outhouse. And there is no greeting like that of a little one: unashamed, not yet trained in the fine art of reserved bashfulness, so open and generous with their affection.

For many African children, those who have grown up on the backs of their mothers and older sisters, security is found strapped to another. Safari is no different. On her hard days, days when she is not feeling well, overtired or just a bit cranky, Safari will hold onto my leg and ask again and again to be strapped to my back.

Sure she is a bit heavy, but so many of my favorite Didinga moments, have been moments in which this sweet girl has cuddled, slept or been "helping me" while tied to my back .

A tired Safari and I wash the laundry.

The Didinga people use the term 'mother' pretty loosely. Those who help with the bathing, feeding, entertaining and general loving of a child seem to fit the category. A possessive Safari seemed to think so. Anyone who would listen, along with neighbor children wanting to hold a hand or sit on my lap, were strongly reminded, "Mamma shanni chenni!" (This is my Mom!) .

I didn't have the heart to disagree. I mean, "It takes a village..." Right?

Around Nagishot

Here are some shots of Nagishot.

This is the school where I teach.
It's really nice, isn't it?

Main Street in Nagishot.

In the last few months, small dukas (stores) have started to spring up. History is being made. These are the very first businesses EVER in the Didinga Hills of Sudan!!!

Store Sign

A Nagishot Duka

Need a writing pen, small bottle of cooking oil, salt, soap or a really yucky piece of candy? They've got you covered.

The grinding mill.
A very loud and very popular Didinga hangout.

This was the church.
Sadly, it blew down during a windstorm.
We are currently meeting in the school and
will continue to do so until a second structure can be built.

The Clinic.

Nagishot is an interesting place.
In the fifties, before the war, the British military somehow discovered the temperate, beautiful Didinga mountains. They must have liked what they saw because they decided to settle there. For a couple of years, British soldiers retreated to the Didinga Hills for rest and relaxation.

When the war came, the British left Nagishot. However, there are still a number of buildings, in varying states of dilapidation, standing. An eerie reminder of the past.

And there you have it. The complete photo album of non-mud structures in Didinga.
Is Nagishot a modern, developed African village? Uhmm, not quite.
Is it worlds ahead of Napep? Yes, without a doubt.

Here a few other angles of Nagishot.

This is Major. He's not a Didinga, but during the war he somehow ended up in Nagishot. He is a tailor by trade, the only one our area. Most mornings, he sets up his sewing machine on the compound, just outside of our tented area.

Major is a sweetheart, my secret Didinga crush. With the smile of a school boy, he once gave me a bouquet of red onions. I think its safe to say that Major must have broken many African hearts by never marrying.

Cows, how can you not love cows!

"Modern" agriculture in Didinga.

Shortly after I took this photo, these boys (my students) asked me to take a turn behind the plow. Growing up watching, Little House on the Prairie, I jumped at the opportunity. It looks easy enough, but handling a plow is HARD work!

Living in Community

Welcome to Nagishot, Sudan!
Though Nagishot is only about ten miles from my former village, Napep, its feels like a whole different world.

Last year in Napep, desiring to build strong relationships with our Didinga neighbors, our team chose to live in the community, rather than on a joint missionary compound. Recognizing the benefits this living arrangement provided, Tianne, Elly and I were cautious about living on the Nagishot compound this year. However, Pastor William Laku, worried about our safety, was quite adamant about our settling on the compound.

And, I am so glad that he was!

The daily Napep stresses: the throngs of people lined up at the fence from sunup to sundown, the complete and total absence of anything remotely resembling privacy, the absolute ridiculous amount of theft....

Thanks to life on the compound, I no longer feel like a caged zoo animal. I can make bread in my kitchen-like area without 15 people watching my every move and yelling at me from the fence. And for that, I am infinitely and continually thankful!

Living in Community - Some of the Nagishot Compound
pictured from left to right: Hector Loki, Peter, Adega, me with Safari, Joyce with daughter Janie, Tianne, Eunice, William, Joshua, Lauren, Johnathan and Elly

Tianne, me, Elly with Johnathan and Lauren

We are called to live in community:

"All the believers were together and had everything in common. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved." Acts 2:44-47

It's easy to think that those first church believers had everything in common. Hard to imagine their unique personalities, differences. Were they all shopping at the same trendy stores, reading the same best-sellers, was everyone into bocce ball?

Nope, I don't think so.

Wasn't their everything the same everything we share with other believers today?
That everything is the reason it doesn't matter if you are a Didinga, Acholi or, a far from home, American, with Christ in common, people as different as night is from day, can live and learn together.

Each night, everyone from the compound (anywhere from 7 to 20 men, women and children) gather together for the evening meal. Hours have been spent around that table. I've found that despite our differences, He is enough to unit us.

And now, a little bit about our living arrangements:
It was originally promised that our new houses, the mud tukals and brick kitchen, were to be finished no later than January 15th. However, on the 26th of January, when we moved back to Sudan, our houses consisted of nothing more than cement foundations. Our kitchen had not been started.

This past January - Tianne, Elly and I standing in our "houses".

Jonathan, our fellow AIM missionary, did a super job organizing and working with the kitchen builders. Our cute new kitchen was successfully completed shortly before we left Sudan for the April elections.

Our beautiful porch faces west.
We would love for you to come over and enjoy a Didinga sunset with us.

Marking our territory...

Looking South in Early April
Unfinished tukals in the background, the rest of the Nagishot compound is located behind our eventual tukals, kitchen with water barrel in foreground.
My garden is off to the right.

Looking North in Early April
Kitchen structure and garden in the background,
the foundation for Tianne's tukal in middle foreground,
Elly's weaved tukal to the right.

As our houses had not yet been finished, we were living under this open-air structure
(the mabatte is there to block the crazy Nagishot wind and divert pesky animals).

Kitchen, with Tianne's tent area in the background.

Once a closet, now our kitchen counter.

Home Sweet Home!
My tent with African grass weaved rainfly
- not sure, but I don't think they sell this model at REI -
the original was somehow misplaced.
(yeah, you can pray for that one come rainy season).

I am convinced that we can grow accustomed to pretty much anything. Things that I once thought were totally disgusting, are not even categorized as gross anymore. To be completely honest, living in a tent for three months, was really not that bad. It reminded me of car camping and I like to camp. If it wasn't for the chickens roosting on the kitchen table, the dogs and cat stealing our precious food and the fine layer of dirt on and in everything, including our drinking water, I could probably live in a tent indefinitely.

However, rainy season is approaching the Didinga Hills of Sudan. The open-air structure that houses our tents is not leak proof and as I mentioned earlier, the tent I am borrowing, did not come with a rainfly. Will we survive in the tents? You bet. Would we rather upgrade to a mudhut? YES!!!

Please join us in praying for the completion of our little African houses.
Thanks!

The Will to Garden

This is a rooster, not the particular rooster that caused me such sadness, but a member of the fowl family none the less.

Without exaggerating, I must have spent at least twenty hours clearing land, building small dirt mounds, planting seeds and watering my new Nagishot garden. Satisfaction for me comes in the form of neat, weed free, rows.

Now, don't get me wrong, no one is twisting my arm and making me work this little piece of land. All the contrary, I realized last year in Napep that I absolutely love to garden. Unlike my other roles in Didinga, gardening has a definitive beginning, a measurable end. That can't really be said about teaching or evangelizing.
.
Literally, the day after I finished planting the majority of my garden, I came out to check on things and found that my beautiful mounds and carefully planted seeds, were no longer there. They had been replaced by millions of miniature chicken, turkey and guinea fowl footprints.

Oh, that was a sad, sad Didinga day. I'll admit it, the sight of those tiny fowl feet and the reality of their destruction, brought tears to my eyes.

Sure, a garden fence would have been a good idea. And I would have made a quick trip to Home Depot, if that would have been an option. It wasn't. I wanted to kill every last one of those good for nothing birds. I didn't.

When I finally make my way back to Nairobi, I plan to invest in a role of chicken wire. A garden fence will be built. New seeds will be purchased. I will garden. I will persevere.

Note the perfect mounds and
neatly arranged wood chipping mulch.
(Did I mention, that Nagishot's gale force winds ruined my mulching efforts?)

Food

It's no secret that Sudan isn't really known for its fine dining. I doubt William Sonoma will ever stock their shelves with cookbooks sharing the ins and outs of Sudanese cuisine. Will Americans ever be raving about the takeout from the new Sudanese hotspot? Uhmmm, I don't think so.

In Napep last year, the local food options included ahot (otherwise known as ugali - a sort of corn porridge), methe (corn beer), daughty (wild greens that have been boiled into a snot-like mixture) and modo (beans).

And though my new village, Nagishot, is only a mere ten miles from my former home in Napep, it seems to be the land of, 'Milk and Honey'.

Why do I say so? Well, because....
There is an actual, 'Honey Man' that comes to our compound every once in awhile to sell us golden honey that is so delicious and so fresh, I'm a little bit surprised he isn't followed by a swarm of angry bees.

Don't tell the folks from PETA, but we almost ate a rhino.
We were told that five rhinos sort of attacked a small village somewhere in the Sudanese lowlands. The villagers killed the animals, attempted to dry the rhino and came up to Nagishot, hoping to sell the excess meat. Though the meat smelled like death and was covered in maggots, Eunice bought and prepared the rhino for dinner. Fully aware of the consequences, we all agreed to eat the improperly preserved rhino. I mean, what's a little stomachache, when you can actually say that you ate a rhinoceros. In the end, the meat was so far gone, only the dogs could brag about eating an endangered species.

Dik dik is delicious! This small antelope made dry season a tasty one in Nagishot. Sorry, I don't have a single picture of a dik dik, the shepherd boys who kill them with their bows and arrows or us barbecuing the tasty little things.

Avocados grow in Nagishot. Every other week, we usually buy a bucketful from our friend, Julietta. She charges us 5 Sudanese pounds for maybe fifteen avocados, which translates to about $2.50.

Hanging out at Julietta's, under one of the avocado trees.

Julietta also grows, but doesn't drink, coffee (she only likes her coffee with 3 to 5 tablespoons of sugar, a commodity that is almost impossible to come by). So, when she learned that I LOVE a good Cup of Joe, she offered me some of hers.

Julietta's Didinga Roast is very tasty and it's pretty cool and all back-to-nature-like to pick, roast and grind your own beans.

Julietta and I picking the coffee beans.

That's me and Julietta's youngest daughter, checking on the roasted beans.

Tianne, grinding my coffee beans.