We Didn't Steal the Thunder Stone... This Year

Lauren's Didinga Baby Shower

Before Lauren and Johnathan, our fellow Didinga missionaries, returned to the States to welcome their first child into the world, we wanted to celebrate with them the miracle that pregnancy is. Naturally, we decided to host the first Didinga baby shower in the history of the world!!! Sounds impressive, doesn't it.

Like most American women, I've been to a number of baby showers in my years. They are usually a nice enough way to pass a Sunday afternoon, but never anything to write home, or in this case blog, about. However, this particular shower was rad. I can humbly make this bold statement because I had little to no role in planning or executing this event.

I have never been a great party planner or a detail orientated sort of gal. Thankfully for me, and in this case, Lauren, my housemate Elly is both of these things. You would be hard pressed to find anyone as excited by matching napkins or sentimental Christmas cookies shaped like flying reindeer. It's great! So, the responsibility and therefore credit for this rockin' shower must be given entirely to Elly. My role, was much like my role in preparing for family holidays at my parents' house - ie. asking lots of, "What do you want me to do now?" questions and then running to and fro cleaning plant leaves or in this case, fastening twirly pink and blue ribbon around the porch and gathering every chair - stool - bench in 500 mile radiance.

The shower started with chai and mandazos (Africa's version of a donut). Then each of the ladies shared about their families and a piece of Didinga mothering advice for Lauren.

* "Be patient."
* "Baby number two should not come until the first is walking."
*"Babies cry a lot and need a great deal of attention. Be patient."
*"Don't get mad when your baby cries, just go like this (here they would model the world round model of bouncing the baby) and say 'Jaho hah.' - Quiet please.

We then played Pin the Baby on the Momma's Back - our version of Pin the Tale on the Donkey. This part of the afternoon was priceless. The ladies, never introduced to the game as a youngster or turned off to it at the age of 10, absolutely loved it. We all did.

The winning 'pin'

Hilarious!

Ok, so every last one of the party guests, all except Lauren that is, cheated while playing Pin the Baby. See how this unassuming old woman is using her left hand to gauge her positioning? All of the ladies were having such a good time that we decided to overlook this obvious disregard for the rules, but just this once.

Lauren also opened several handmade gifts from Didinga friends.

Beads, a gourd rattle and rain/sunshine gourd baby protector (on her back)

Lauren and Jonathan also played this air-gun-pop-the-balloon-and-determine-the-sex-of-your-unborn-child game, which is only slightly less accurate than a Western ultrasound in determining the sex of a baby. The general gist of the game was: blue balloon left unpopped = boy baby, pink balloon = girl baby and green = well, we weren't so sure about this one, but had the balloons.

Looks like we will be welcoming baby girl Ramirez into the world!

What fun sharing the coming Ramirez miracle with our Didinga neighbors and friends.
Praying for a comfortable delivery for Lauren and a healthy Ramirez wee one.

Lake Turkana

In July, we traveled to Lake Turkana with the Hildebrandt's (John is our pilot and his wife Ginny is perhaps the best bush cook on the face of the planet). We spent a fabulously relaxing weekend in Ely Falls, a little known Northern Kenya oasis.


As one would imagine, after two years living in Sudan I've maybe changed a little. For example, the concept of having a personal pilot is no longer strange, but a reality. Flying is commonplace and driving is now somehow an experience to be anticipated. So under these new circumstances, this July road-trip across North Kenya's extended desert was a journey not soon to be forgotten.

Halfway through the drive, women and children checked out the mammoth termite mounds, while the man checked on the tires.

We drove past several Turkana villages.



We saw LOADS of camels - was it 50?

Then all of sudden, the vast desert opened, revealing a beautiful and surprisingly tropical, Lake Turkana.





At the lake there were several cute little huts for rent, but we decided to stay in tents.



The swimming was amazing!!! We jumped the huge lake waves for hours and when we grew tired of that, we played around in the natural spring pool. FUN - FUN - FUN!!!

I found a crocodile tooth on the beach, evidence of the lake's high crocodile concentration.


We bought some Turkana baskets. I'm a sucker for two things here in Africa, ok three things - baskets, Real Wax African fabric and children.
And no, it is never EVER a good idea for me to go on a morning walk and swim without sunscreen.




The weekend was such a blessing - I had such a great time swimming with the girls and especially LOVED jumping the waves with Ginny. Good company, beautiful scenery and a real summer weekend get-a-away.
Thanking God for all of it!

One Year Later

The Didinga Team
From left to right: Bill, me, Deborah, Tianne, Amber Janette,
Shawn, Carly, Elly, Deborah Danny and David

June 19^th marked the one year anniversary of our Didinga evacuation. Here's the latest on the team:

Amber returned to the States in late August and shortly thereafter reunited with her longtime crush, a man who had just 'coincidently' returned early from a two year assignment to Sri Lanka. They started to date, were engaged by New Year’s and married on May 1, 2010! In the future, they are looking forward to serving as a married couple on the mission field.

Deborah returned home in early August to attend the weddings of two of her brothers. After an extended period of seeking God, she accepted a position in Philadelphia. After a brief time in Guademala learning Spanish, she is currently working as a nurse practioner at a Christian medical factuality which aims to meet the needs of the areas high Hispanic population. Ironically, her first day on the new job was June 19^th, 2010 – the exact day of our Didinga evacuation.

Shawn and Carly still feeling lead to be a part of a TIMO team, joined ‘the coast’ team in January. After years of wanting to start a family, they welcomed their first child, Elias James, into the world in early Spring.

Dustin and Ann have spent the last year and a half in Canada after leaving the field early due to Dustin’s immediate need for back surgery. Though their circumstances have not been easy, they have seen God’s provision, as Dustin’s back slowly heals and they prepare through extended Bible, nursing and farming classes for their hopeful return to Africa.

Almost immediately after our team’s end, Bill was asked to share his many talents at the TIMO headquarters in Tanzania. Due to continued work visa issues, Bill plans to return home to Canada in July. He will move to the UK this winter and marry Catrin, a fellow AIM Sudan missionary he met here on the field, in February.

Janette, our former roommate, still feeling called to TIMO, filled a last minute opening on the Madagascar team. The island life suites her and she is thriving in her position at a local university. She loves her new team and will be completing her first full year in Madagascar this August.

David and Deborah spent the last year teaching theology at Daystar University, located just outside of Nairobi. In May, they returned home to Pennsylvania. David is working on completing his doctorate, while Deborah goes about the business of making a house a home. Their son, Danny, finished his sophomore year at Rift Valley Academy in Kenya and is looking forward to getting his license and playing soccer in America.

In January, most of the team met up in Nairobi for a brief reunion. It was exciting to see the evidence of God’s loving hand when reflecting on the circumstances of the past year. While the team’s premature end was hard to understand, it is now easy to see God’s perfect timing and personal direction in each of our lives.

Didinga Discipline

Last week, two girls from my class stole 20 pounds, a huge sum of money in these parts. They took the money from a fellow classmate, a girl who was planning to buy a jerry-can of beer with the money.

I found out about the theft early one school day morning. The mother, who planned to use the beer to clear her corn field, was threatening to 'turn a snake loose' or, in other words, curse the student body if the funds were not fully recovered.

When my guilty P3 girls tried to spend their stolen loot, the community became suspicious. Girl number 1, realizing that her cover was broken, ran off to Chukudum. She is rumored to be buying slippers (flip-flops) and fabric with her share of the stolen money. No word on when she plans to come home.

When Philip and I approached Girl Number 2 about the theft, she admitted to having the stolen money in her possession, but promised that she did not steal it. With a defiant or nervous grin on her face, I still don’t know which, she told me that Girl Number 1 had given her the money. She told us that she had no idea that the money was stolen. Of course, this was a lie and neither Philip nor I could help but laugh when we heard it. I told Girl Number 2 that though I may not be a Didinga, I knew without a doubt that there was not a Didinga alive who would give ten pounds to anyone, let alone a ten year old!

After a long, but ultimately futile discussion about honestly, integrity, sin and forgiveness, along with numerous opportunities offered for Girl Number 2 to come clean, receive her punishment and for all to be forgotten, another approach was taken. I sent Girl Number 2 to her seat and decided to go and talk with her family.

Her Mom wasn’t home, but I found Girl Number 2’s Grandma, a lovely woman and active member of the church, planting onions behind the house.

After a bit of small talk, I awkwardly broached the topic at hand. Scared from my American teaching days, I expected her to deny any wrong doing by her grand-daughter and somehow turn the whole thing around, blaming me for the theft.

Grandma said that she had already heard about the problem and was waiting for the father to return home before disciplining the girl. She agreed that the child would also need to be disciplined at the school. When I told her that I did not feel comfortable "beating" the young girl (as that is the way things are done here) she looked skeptical, but told me that I could do whatever I thought was necessary as, “she is your child when she is at school.”

Still not convinced that I was free to handle the situation without the negative judgment of the community, I asked the Grandma if it would be alright if I had the girl do some hard labor for her punishment. With a patient and loving smile, Grandma told me that what her Grand-daughter had done was, “very bad” and the fact that she was lying about it was even worse. She encouraged me to deal with the situation however I deemed best.

She then thanked me, gave me some corn and sent me off, smiling all the way – awe-struck by the contrast between this 'phone call home' and the many absolutely jaw dropping, can a parent actually be saying that, terrible calls I had in America .

After school on Tuesday, Girl Number 2 hauled 10 jerry-cans of water for the compound (a number suggested by Philip). It took her more than five hours. She knew that she would be repeating this exact task every weekday until she decided to tell the truth.

Early Wednesday morning, Girl Number 2 confessed to stealing the ten pounds. She apologized and promised that she would never do such a thing again. I somehow believe her...

Teaching Tales

Last term, due to disputes over salary, I was the only teacher working in Nagishot. When I returned to Sudan in May, I was happy to discover that four other teachers would be joining me at Faith Nursery School and City on the Hill School, the other mission school in the area, was planning to reopen for the term.

As one could imagine, with the increased teaching staff, the Nursery School’s student population dramatically increased. In my class, P3, we welcomed 15 students.

Our beginning of the term assessment showed that only three students knew how to write their alphabet in entirety and none knew all of their letter sounds. Adding single digit numbers often resulted in not only the counting of fingers, but also of toes! And well, double digit addition was a joke.

However, teaching this class of ten to twelve year olds has proved to be a true joy. They are bright and capable learners.

We had a great start to the term. As of last week, all but two of my twenty-five students could confidently write their complete alphabet! Most know their letter sounds and many are reading ‘at’ words!!! I consider this a double accomplishment on their part as they are not only learning how to read for the very first time, but also how to read in a foreign language.

Teaching the concept of double digit addition with regrouping is never easy. The idea that ten ones is the same thing as one ten baffles most learners. I was getting quite a few blank stares those first few days I introduced the idea.

Then, one morning a few weeks back, I tried explaining the idea using small pieces firewood. Bringing one student up to the front of the room at a time, I would ask them if they wanted to get firewood with me (one of the most common everyday chores for children this age). We spent the morning literally, adding their firewood to mine, binding ten pieces of wood together with a small piece of tape and then sending the child with the wood on their head to the 'tens side' of the classroom. I would be left with the ‘ones’ firewood.

I am not sure how, but this idea simply made sense to my students. Within the day, every student in P3 was successfully adding double digit numbers with regrouping.

After several unsuccessful days of stories, games and activities designed to help my students memorize the days of Creation, I went out on a musical limb (as I happen to be rhythmically challenged) and wrote a Creation song. With unmistakable enthusiasm Philip translated the song into Didinga and lead the class in the call and response song, “On the first day, on the first day…”. The song was a hit that my students sang endlessly both inside and outside of school. I would guess that not only those students in P3 learned the Creation Story, but many mothers, fathers, brothers, sister and neighbors as well.

An apple for the teacher - nope, how about a shish kabob of wild Didinga raspeberries
or a bag of homegrown avocados.

I sure do love my job and my students!!!

Note: yes, I noticed that the fonts on this post were messed up and yes, it is driving me crazy. However, after spending more than forty minutes here in the Loki heat fooling with it, I have decided to let it go....

Meet Lojore

Philip Lojore

Last term, only by the grace of God, I somehow managed to teach without a Didinga translator. No, I am not anywhere close to being fluent in Didinga and no, my students do not speak English. Yet, with a great deal of effort and patience on both of our parts, we somehow managed.

The first few days of this term, feeling incredibly frustrated with the language barrier, I asked Eunice about the possibility of getting someone from the community to translate my Christian Religious Education (CRE), a class that I simply could not teach without a translator. Eunice encouraged me to ask around, but thought my chances of finding a volunteer translator to be less than promising.

Philip Lojore, an outgoing young man with a personality so contagiously positive it could lift even the most down trodden of spirits, was my first choice for the position.

I found Lojore in a field one day and not really expecting him to agree to translate, I began to plead my case. Before I had even finished the beginning of my, ‘I Need You Speech’ Lojore had agreed to translate CRE. He asked if he could start the following day.

Lojore is a blessing! He not only arrives for work each scheduled day (yes, just the act of coming to work consistently is to be noted), but always on time! After only a few short days, Lojore asked me if he could spend the whole day with our P3 class, “learning how to be a teacher” and translating. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity.

Every teacher knows that there is a strong correlation between the degree unto which a teacher looks and feels totally ridiculous and the attention span and retention of their students. Fortunately, Lojore is always willing to join in on even the silliest activities. He's a natural teacher: patiently coming beside those who need an extra hand, working confidently with small groups, answering student questions, checking work...

For the past few years, Lojore has been working around the compound, running a small store and several other small businesses such as buying chickens locally and selling them for a profit in bigger, relatively close towns. He was forced to leave secondary school one year before graduating due to the lack of tuition funds. In the meantime, he has been working and saving and plans to return to school next year. He also hopes to attend Teacher College in Juba someday and eventually return to Nagishot as a mission school teacher.

When I told Lojore that I had decided to pay him for his volunteer teaching, he was visually shocked. Since then, he’s never even once inquired about how much he will be paid. He asked me to hold all of the money until January, when he will be heading off to school.

Yes, Lojore is the real deal!

Today, while our students worked on their Even and Odd math, he told me his Salvation story. A tale of a boy who spent his days wandering the village looking for brewing beer, drinking with friends and picking fights. It was hard to picture that Lojore as I looked into the face of this man now filled with the Holy Spirit.

I thank God for the work done and through my friend, Philip Lojore.

Philip standing with our P3ers