They're not all sweethearts...

Remember Nyokolaci? 

He's a real sweetheart.

In July of 2012 he blessed me with six rows of sweet potatoes!  You can read all about his kindness here: Surprised by goodness...

Did you know that sweet potatoes take quite some time to mature - about 8 months!!!  

That is 8 months of weeding and 8 months of sweet dreaming of sweet potato fries.
 

 
Now, do you see this yellow bowl?

Well, this little yellow bowl and one other partially filled bucket comprised my much anticipated, though desperately pathetic, sweet potato harvest this year - in full.

If in fact you are still reading (thank you for that), I am sure there are assumptions flying as to the color of this authoress's thumb.  And though I love taking the ol' stab at "living off the land" as much as the next guy, I can't pretend, even for one New York minute, to know all the ins and outs of gardening.  

However, I can say, even in my current state of novice sweet potato farming, that I am pretty sure (maybe 97.3%) that sweet potatoes don't dig themselves out of the ground.  

Would you agree?

That brings me to this charming story of cross cultural missionary living...

Abbi and I were welcomed back to Nagishot from our Christmas holidays away with a traditional Didinga welcome - ie. robbery.  You see, while we were away with family, sipping eggnog, cuddling other peoples' white babies and dressing in bulky outdated layers, our neighbors were busy stealing buckets and bath products from our outhouse and our clothesline from the yard.  Have I mentioned that this is our fifth, or is it sixth, stolen line of the year?  I am seriously considering the installation of an electric clothesline.    Are you shocked??? 

Running with this same train of thought, I think that it's pretty safe to say that my missing carrots and sweet potatoes did not simply get up on their own and walk away.

Which brings me back to my previous assessment - they're not all sweethearts! 

Faith in the Face of Giants

Do you remember the story from Numbers, the story of Moses sending the 12 spies into Canaan, into the Promised Land?

All 12 went into the Promised Land and all 12 laid witness to the land’s productivity.  They saw a land flowing with milk and honey.  However, they also saw Canaan’s fortified walls and its inhabitants, the ancestors of Anak, men who were quite literally, giants.

All 12 of these spies returned to Moses having seen and experienced the exact same circumstances in Canaan.  However, out of the 12, only two, Joshua and Samuel, continued to trust in God's promises.

You see, God had promised the Israelites this land of Canaan, this land flowing with milk and honey.  He’d delivered them out of slavery in Egypt and parted the Red Sea. He had brought them through years in the desert and provided manna for them daily.  God had cared for them and repeatedly shown His faithfulness in spite of their waywardness.

Yet, only two of the 12 spies, when faced with opposition, when faced with fortified walls and giants, trusted God.

We shared this story of faith in the face of giants with our Bible study group this past week.  As we studied God’s word, I could not help but wonder - which one am I?

When faced with trials or difficult conditions in my own life and ministry here in Didinga, do I trust in God’s faithfulness, do I intentionally seek to see His daily gifts of provision, His consistent manna, or do I doubt in His goodness?

Sadly, I am confronted with the stark reality that I am often more like the 10, than the two.

I doubt God. 

I dwell on past disappointments, grumble about my daily gifts and forget that I have God the Father, God the Creator, God the Almighty on my side.

For you see, these ministry frustrations, the repeated disappointments, the lies and the corruption that we so often are confronted with, well all of these “giants” have already been defeated by our mighty God in heaven.

For it is not my battle, but His.  Though I am weak, He is strong. 

He never loses.

May we all have the faith of Joshua and Samuel when daily facing our "giants”.

Wheat

"Walk softly, O man, past an acre of wheat,
With awe in your heart and your face.
Walk humbly, O man, and with reverent feet,
For strength slumbers here - Can't you feel its heart beat?
And beauty's own couch is an acre of wheat,
And holiness dwells in this place."

Last May - Abbi and Miriam clearing land for planting.

Clearing land, planting seed and harvesting take a great deal of manpower when modern machinery isn't implemented. With this in mind, Didinga gather together for what they consider, "community work". Payment is in the form of "merte" - beer - and the unsaid promise that the work crew will eventually move onto your own field. Think American colonial barn raising.

Lokang, Fiona, me and Miriam clearing land last May.

The Harvest! - Threshing wheat this past week.

 

Trey Mims took this dandy last February.

I actually really enjoy threshing wheat. Though it is back-breaking work (in the literal sense), it is fun. Whistles are blown or songs sang to keep everyone's thrashing in rhythm and to ensure that no one falls behind. It somehow reminds me a bit of dancing or marching - Didinga people also really get into it, laughing and teasing one another (usually me), which is great!

Lokang wanted his picture taken. He's been threshing wheat (and drunk) everyday for the last month. I love Lokang! He's like the teasing, loud-mouthed, hilarious older brother I never had.

Threshing is fun, but it does a number on these white wimpy hands.

Blisters!  Loads of blisters!

The wind separates the chaff from the wheat.

Sweeping off the chaff.

I find these feet strangely beautiful...

Wheat bread rising on our dish rack in the afternoon sun.

Abbi baking.

This is how we bake our bread here in Sudan - dutch oven style, over a kerosene flame. It works well.

Bath water.

Dirty, tired and ready for a bath. Abbi and I after a long day harvesting wheat.

Muscles! Didinga people are really, really muscley. They are strong and can work like no body's business!

We do our best to keep up!

I live in a beautiful place!

A Trip to Chukudum

Abbi and Bakita on the hike down to Chukudum.

This past weekend Abbi and I threw our toothbrushes, a bottle of sunscreen and a batch of chocolate chip cookies (you know, the essentials) into a bag and hit the trail.

We hiked ten miles down the mountain to Chukudum, the metropolitan center of Didinga.  Our plans were simple, we hoped to visit friends and drink a Coke.  

We were successful on both fronts.
  

Chukudum, located in the lowlands, is much hotter than our Nagishot mountaintop oasis.  

The days were a little too warm for my liking, but the evenings were starry skied, warm and beautiful.

Bakita, one of our former students, and her sister, Evelyn, were our amazing hosts for the weekend.

They poured over us as though we were some sort of American, poorly dressed, royalty.  

They made us chai, arranged cool places, away from the afternoon sun, for us to sit and stuffed us with chapatis (fried flat bread), beans and rice.  

They insisted that Abbi and I sleep on their mud sleeping platform, while they spent the night on the floor.

Abbi and I hoped to head back home early Saturday morning, well before the mid-day sun, but our plans were thwarted by cow meat.  We were detained as Chukudum prisoners - waiting for one final feast.

Bakita and Evelyn have certainly taught me a thing or two about hospitality.

Abbi performing the ol' "removing" a finger trick....

and this time, a few small people actually fell for it!

Meat is a special treat, a meal of importance, so Abbi and I did our level best to clear our plates.  Commands to, "Just force it!" were offered, but there is a limit to my cultural appropriateness, it is called, "I am going to throw up!".  

Anyhow, we finally waddled out of Chukudum a little after 1pm.

We hiked the ten miles back up the mountain with some friends we just happened to meet up with along the way.

The hike was hot!!!

In fact, it was so hot that I stripped down nearly naked, hid behind a banana tree and bathed with another local lady at the stream. 

Abbi filtering some drinking water.

We made it home a little sun-burned, a little tired, surprisingly hungry and thankful for these moments, these people, this time God has given us in Didinga.

"One more moment pregnant with wonder..."

I am a hunter of beauty and I move slow and I keep the eyes wide, every fiber of every muscle sensing all wonder and this is the thrill of the hunt and I could be an expert on the life full, and beauty meat that lurks in every moment.  

I hunger to taste life.

God.

- One Thousand Gifts

mquirrels

 

After several blissful weeks of "modern" world living, Abbi and I flew back into Nagishot Tuesday afternoon (some of us kept our lunch down, some of us didn't).  We left behind the frigid winter cold of China (for Abbi) and Washington (for me), in exchange for cool daytime breezes and uncharacteristically late season nighttime thunder showers of Nagishot. 

We also returned to a kitchen quite literally teaming with, what our 2008 TIMO team branded, mquirrels (I have no idea what the official name is, if there is one, for these little critters).

Mquirrels are a peculiar cross between a mouse and a squirrel and must be a Didinga phenomenon.  

Lucky us.

Now Micky, Mighty and Stuart Little are famous in their own right, but when compared with this half squirrel half mouse oddity their wonders greatly wane...

Our pesky rodents, with their bushy tails and sticky feet, can:

• climb a vertical wall like it is no big thing
• out-smart even the best of mouse-hunting cats with their nasty feline repelling smells
• and, how should I phrase this, leave an astounding trace when considering their pretty insubstantial body size...

Due to talent #3 Abbi and I spent all, and I do mean all, of Wednesday cleaning out every nook and kitchen cranny.    

Thursday looked a lot like Wednesday.  Same work, different locale.  Hours were spent scrubbing our mudhuts - because well, mud, as you may well imagine, can get pretty dirty.

Today, home is once again, home sweet home.  

Except for those pesky bats roosting nightly over my bed... 

Abbi's obese mouse...

Mquirrals are attracted to water (it's one of the only ways to kill the buggers).  I scooped this little fella out of the water barrel.

Home for the Holidays

Happy New Year!

I am back in Africa after a lovely Christmas holiday in the States!  I enjoyed nearly 6 wonderful weeks with my family and friends.  

I took full advantage of the snow - sledding, skiing, snowmobiling, snow-shoeing....

It was great to be home!

Here are some pictures, in random order, from my time there:
 

Family, greeting me at the airport.

"Auntie Kim, do you recognize us BIG kids?"  
A year and a half is a VERY long period of time in the life of a 3, 5, 7 or 12 year old.  
It was so GREAT to see them!

With my sisters on Christmas Eve.

As I rarely, if ever, experience winter these days, I prayed for the opportunity to enjoy a snowy winter Washington wonderland while I was home. 

God certainly did answer that prayer. 

My 6 weeks of winter were COLD and snowy and, just as winter should be, only 6 weeks!

Though I didn't have enough time to visit everyone that I would have liked to, I had a great time catching up with friends.

I loved sharing a cup (or seven) of tea with my dear friend, Dottie.  She was a missionary in Mexico for over 40 years.  She prayers for the Didinga (and me) without ceasing.  Christ shines through her.  She is an inspiration.  I LOVE her!

I also spent a few days with another one of my best-friends, Lindsey.  I had a great time with her family.

I also played in the snow, a lot!

Family sledding party.

 

My nephew, Evan.  He's a kick in the pants!

Snowmobiling with my Mom and Dad.

With the help of my sister, brother-in-law, nieces and 3 year old nephew, I learned how to ski.  I LOVE skiing.  I could REALLY get into it.  Well, I could really get into it if I wasn't a poor missionary living in South Sudan! 

Chopping down our Charlie Brown in the woods behind the house.

Oh, was it ever COLD!

More sledding - here we are trying to stop the tub before slamming into the barn at the foot of the mountain. And people think that living in South Sudan is dangerous!

Enjoy the rest of your winter!