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.