Tanzania, Tanzania

Here are a few moments of life in Africa:

-Each morning we awoke to the Ramadan call to prayer and the smell of burning trash. (Which they just piled up by the road and burned each day.) Every night began with the slathering on of deet, the pulling on of long sleeved clothing, and the tunneling into our mosquito net for the night. Each night, as I looked up at the ceiling, I gained more appreciation for that net, knowing it not only kept out the mosquitoes, but the spiders, the beetles, and the lizards.

-Each day as we came out of our gate we would see donkeys, cars, goats, Masai on bikes, and women carrying huge buckets on their heads, all sharing the same road.

-I learned to enjoy porridge every morning and rice and beans every lunch and dinner. (Okay, perhaps at the end of three weeks the word enjoy may be a tad bit generous, it is true I actually dreamed about pizza.)

-I learned to teach without a classroom, and then in a room with no desks, no chalkboard, and no books, to children who spoke only a few English words.

-The last few days, I wiped away happy tears at the sound of those children saying English letter names and sounds, colors, numbers and words.

-I found myself screaming in horror as two, fat, killer lizards fell from the ceiling onto the floor in the middle of class. Forgetting all restraint, I ran from the room. Of course, all the children did likewise and tried to calm me down. Call the animal police, but the other teacher killed them as she exclaimed,"The children play with them. They are their friends. They will not hurt you." Friends or not, I did not feel an ounce of sadness. (Do not feel bad for those lizards, they were awful.)

-I discovered that all those random wet spots all over the playground were actually student made bathroom puddles.

-We explored a Chagga bat filled cave, where Nick decided to take a picture of a sleeping bat. I decided to run for my life after it woke up.

-We marveled at the Masai sand and dung insulated huts with live chickens inside.

-We cringed at the gaping holes in the Masais' ears, which according to the Masai preacher, were first started long ago when their herds were far from home, and they would put the new lambs in those holes to help carry them home. It's true, that's what he said.

-We rode what they call the dala dalas. They are old vans that act like buses for the people, since most don't have their own cars. They are however, crazy. There is always a man hanging out of the door scanning the road for anyone who needs a ride. The use of seats is also optional. People sit on the floor, on your lap, or hoover over your head. The dala dala is never too full for more riders.

-We were able to go to a newly formed L.D.S. branch. In a place so different, it was wonderful to find the same peace.

-We heard testimony in one of the U.N. Rwanda criminal tribunal court cases. (Which are still happening, even though it has been over 14 years ago.) It was fascinating, extremely sad that the genocide ever happened, and hopeful that justice will be served.

-I hummed Lion King music throughout our safari, as we saw amazing animals. They were extremely beautiful, okay, some of them were not, (Have you ever seen a wildebeast?) but all were extremely fascinating. I also have never seen such beautiful sunrises and sunsets in my life.

-I found myself falling asleep in the campground to the lullaby sounds of hyenas, lions, and water buffalo, the campground without any fences or gates. Amazingly, I actually slept.

-I learned that things aren't what make us happy.


-This is how my students would say goodbye every day. They would pray, sing about Jesus, shout about how happy they were, and then sing a goodbye song to their teachers. It makes me ask myself the same question each day, "Are you happy?" Humbly, and gratefully I know I can always say, "Yes!"

AFRICA

I'm finally almost 100% back from Africa. (I got home a little over a week ago, but my body has taken a little longer to get back.) Africa was a million different adjectives: amazing, despairing, fascinating, hard, heartwarming, heartbreaking, beautiful, frightful. . . . . . and the list could go on. I went with a nonprofit organization to teach, learn about the culture, and have some free time to explore. However, when I got down there I was truly overwhelmed by the immense need. It was hard because I knew I could not give back parents to all of the orphans, cure all that were sick, feed all that were hungry or give money to all that were in need. Looking around I felt very small and inadequate, however, I was reminded that I had two things that I could give in abundance to all I came into contact with. The first was knowledge. I am a firm believer that knowledge is power. We taught the children, the teachers, and the community. As a pastor we met said, " If you give me money I will cry and thank you, but I would rather you give me knowledge because after the money is gone, the knowledge will still be there."
The second thing I could give was love. My eyes were never dry as the children would run to grab my hand, sit on my lap, brush my hair, and squeeze in to be held. I spent most recesses with my arms around five or six children that didn't want to let go when recess was done. It was heartbreaking to realize that there are not enough hands to rock, hug, and love these little orphans. If only I could have brought them home.
I have truly been humbled and filled with gratitude. Whenever we told people we were from America their eyes would get big and they would cheer, "Oh America, that is our favorite country." We met many children named after American presidents, who have given great aid to the Tanzanian people. What a great country we come from, we are so blessed. It was however, also amazing to see these people who had nothing were so happy and welcoming. What a wonderful people and beautiful country. I would love to go back.

I of course have some delightfully crazy stories about falling lizards, swooping bats, sneaky pickpockets, and prowling lions that I will have to share next time.

THE FUGITIVE

Last weekend was the big family reunion. Every two years we get together with my only first cousins, and we head out to the mountains for a weekend of good old fashioned family fun. We had a fabulous time doing yoga (can't you tell I'm completely relaxed) swimming, rowing in the boat, eating yummy food, playing badminton, and foosball (I accidentally hit the ball into our own goal three times, Crazily, nobody wanted me on their team for the next game.) The best part of course was being together. This reunion may sound like any other family reunion, except for a slight twist, and that twist was . . . . . the fugitive.

You see the first night as we were enjoying a delicious dinner on the deck, we noticed helicopters circling the mountains. My uncle told us there was a fugitive on the loose. While he wasn't a killer, he was a juvenile delinquent who had escaped from a wilderness program in the mountains. They had planes and dogs combing the area. We were warned to lock up our cars and the cabin. I looked back at the mountain, locked the doors and didn't think too much more about it. That is I didn't until two days later, when my mother told me some people had been by again to warn us about the fugitive. They said he was wearing a blue shirt and had brown hair, "Uh, huh." I said distractedly as I helped whip up a salad. However, not two minutes later, I looked up, and who did I see? That's right, the fugitive. There he was walking down the hall with my dad and uncle. Convinced that I was the only one who knew who he really was, I whispered to my mom, "It's the fugitive." And no sooner had I said that, then my dad came bustling into the kitchen and said, "We need to get this kid some food." I nervously whispered again, "It's the fugitive." My brother looked at me and said, "Yeah we know." Completely baffled, I watched as they led the fugitive to the table, had him sit, and started feeding him our food. Personally, I was thinking more along the lines of grabbing him, tying him up and calling the searchers. (I tend to err on the side of caution.) However, if you know my dad, you know he befriends all, and so they set him at the table with food and listened to the fugitive's story. (I shouldn't have worried so much, it's true all the guys were right by him at the table, and my seventh grade cousin gave me a glance of his pocket knife telling me not to worry, he had it covered.)
This is the story that the fugitive told:
At the camp where he was they would take away the kids' shoes each night, so they wouldn't run away. However, this fugitive still ran. In fact he had been running for 6 days, over 35 miles away from the camp, without any shoes. Crazy! He also had been running without any food but a granola bar, beef and cheese stick. He said they almost got him one time, but he climbed a huge fence and jumped. Then he hid in a little cave, so the planes wouldn't see him. He drank water from a nearby stream and took shade in the Aspen trees. At night he slept up on the ridge, and every night below him he would see all of our cabin lights on. He said, "You guys are the loudest people I know, I could hear you all the way up on the ridge." ( It's true we are a tad loud, and when you get over 20 of us playing a game of werewolf, it sounds a lot like real wolves howling at the moon.) And so after 6 days he lost his adrenaline and decided to come down and turn himself in, and what nicer people to turn himself into then the werewolf howlers. He came and knocked on the door, and asked to use the phone. My dad knowing who he was (I guess I wasn't the only one.) told him a lot of people were looking for him, that we would give him something to eat, and call someone.
Now here is where the story turns into a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie, but I promise it is true. The fugitive called his dad and his dad (who had flown across the country and hired his own private investigator to find his son) came to the cabin to get him. His dad knocked at the door and when he saw his boy he held out his arms. The fugitive nervously asked his dad what was going to happen, and his dad took out a picture of his son from his shirt pocket. (I swear I'm not making this up.) Then he said, "I put this picture of you here by my heart while we were searching for you. I just want to love you right now." And the fugitive went over to his father for a hug. Now I'm sure there will be heck to pay later, but I thought it was a perfect ending to the reunion. The message: Your family is there with arms outstretched to love you, even when you aren't at your best. Now isn't that nice? Hallmark you can come get the story rights from me, because this one is a real winner.

The Big Event

The big event of the summer is finally here, I am officially braceless. I didn't think it would ever happen, but I still rotated my ankle during every kid's report, put on my makeup balancing on one leg, and pushed and pulled during every newscast, and I am overjoyed to say it finally paid off. My doctor even released me yesterday with the ability to jog on the treadmill with no brace. Can you believe it? Jog-no brace. I tore home to put on my running shorts (shorts, I could actually wear shorts) and walked into the gym. Amazingly, there was nobody staring or critiquing my fashion. Can life get any better? I guess so, because today I got to choose from any of my shoes, not just my fatty brace shoes, and I could wear anything I wanted. ( I know, I said I was over the fashion thing, but I must admit I have seen way too many episodes of What Not to Wear to know they will get you at your worst moment.) My students clapped and cheered my success this morning, and my foot is feeling great. Yeah!!!!! And so sadly, this concludes the last of my endless posts about my foot. I'm sure it has been fascinating reading, I know it was all I could think about. No worries though, I still have one more surgery to go. (Don't get too excited though, I am not going to write about it, well, unless it is as fascinating as this last experience.)

Fashion

Okay, it's true in the fifth and sixth grade I tight rolled my pants, sported two different colored socks on each foot, and ratted my bangs to enormous heights. However, I had thought my extreme fashion days were over, but apparently thanks to my brace they are not.
One Sunday after church, I ran to a dinner wearing a long gray skirt and black shoes. I thought that this would help camouflage that fabulous brace of mine. It seemed to blend nicely. I guess it blended a little too nicely. I walked into the dinner and a friend said, "Oh, how is your foot?" I smiled and kicked up my leg."It's doing well, I just have the brace now." That's when she said, "Oh my goodness, I didn't even know you were wearing a brace. I just thought you were wearing a boot and a shoe." I would like to add here that she was serious. I'm mean it, she thought I was wearing a dress boot and shoe. Which leads me to ask, how many people do you know who wear one boot and a shoe to a dinner? Is that a new style? And further more, do I look like the type of person who would wear a boot and a shoe out in public or for that matter at home? The rest of the night I was paranoid that everyone was looking at my boot and shoe combo. And so, after that I nixed the blending and tried to make it obvious that I was wearing a brace. Which looked like a big, black brace and a stretched out brown shoe with every fashion ensemble. I just can't seem to win. Therefore, I've decided to just wear what I wear, and if it helps give people a little enjoyment talking about my new fashion statement, then that is the small part of joy I will give to others.

The Art of Walking

It all began with that itchy, hard cast, then I moved to this summery boot (I lovingly call it ten pounder), and as of yesterday I became the proud walker of this sleek, little brace. It's true my days of all night reading, t.v. marathons, and plopping down in exhaustion are coming to an end, and I can't contain my excitement.
I must say however, I am grateful to my crutches for giving me bulging arm muscles, (Can't you see them?) a fabulous handicap sticker, ( it has propelled me to coolest teacher of the school status) and the opportunity to ride in a hip and stylish grocery racer ( those neon, orange flags really whip down the aisles.) Mainly, crutches have made me grateful for not needing them now.
Last week at my doctor's appointment, I was extremely disappointed with my failure to remember how to walk, and then with the pain involved. ( I had a little separation anxiety from my crutches.) My doctor therefore prescribed a couple more days of crutches and putting pressure on my foot. Monday, I began my first day of walking by myself. It was pretty amazing, Yesterday, I went in expecting to get out of the boot in another week or two. However, my doctor had me walk without the boot. ( I was scared out of my wits. ) Then he asked me if I still had my brace. (This brace and I go way back.) When I replied, "Yes." He told me I could wear it. Stunned, I actually started to clap and cheer. The patients in the other rooms could think what they wanted, I could not contain emotion to news like that. Then he gave me more good news, no brace to sleep in. I can not tell you how much happiness this caused my heart. You see the first three weeks in my cast I spent reading until 4 am, then the last two weeks in my boot I have spent ripping open seven Velcro tighteners every couple of hours to let my leg breathe and then strapping them back up and repeating. Last night, heaven.
Today I began my limpy, doo wop walking. I realize with no muscles in my leg, it is a bit dreadful to do and a bit dreadful to watch. ( I think people are afraid I'm going to tip over. ) However, it is me walking by myself, and I know that with each step my walking ability is increasing. (Speed walkers of the world watch out.)

The Truth about Life on Crutches

It's been almost two weeks since my surgery and here are some of the lessons, strategies, and truths I've learned about life on crutches:

1-Whatever you do, don't break the toe on your other foot a few days before surgery. It will hurt like crazy, and make hobbling and hopping around extremely hard and hurtful.

2- Take medicine when it feels like they are still drilling into your ankle. Stop taking medicine when it feels like they are drilling on your head.

3- When you can't take the claustrophobia and itching of your cast any longer, do not lash out on your broken toe wrapping. While it may be liberating, it will hurt like nobody's business.

4- A good way to deal with insomnia is to read. However, a bad thing to read is murder mysteries.

5- Do not stare at people on crutches, they may fall from all of the attention.

6- Where there is a will, there is a way. It may require scooting, crawling, and pulling, but it is possible.

7- Never, ever bring 26 sixth grader's final book projects home to correct. No matter what you thought, you are definitely not going to want to correct them.

8-You may think you are cruising with speed on your crutches until you notice old people passing you by. Remember what your mother always said,"Don't compare yourself with others."

9-"Up with the good, and down with the bad." It's not just a good motto for life, but it sure helps going up and down stairs.

10- It is okay to ask for help, it is okay to receive help, it is okay to need help. (This is one I have to keep repeating to myself.)

11- Patience isn't just for other people, patience is needed for ourselves.

12- Bless my family and friends, without them I would not be surviving.

The next surgery should be in July. Then I will have a better post: The Truth about Life in a Boot and on Crutches.