The Move

Today I am moving to a new city four hours north. I've finished my Hausa class after 10 weeks, and am ready to move into my new house. I have been waiting to make this long, hot journey since November 2006 when I realized God was calling me to serve in this particular city. So my car is packed up and I'm leaving behind a multitude of wonderful friends who I will come and visit from time to time, but I'm looking forward to meeting new friends and finally unpacking my boxes. Some of those boxes have been packed for five months! I think I even forgot what I packed in many of them! So it will be like Christmas. Hopefully I will get the time and opportunity to post in the next couple of weeks, but if you don't see a new post soon, just know that our internet situation in this new city isn't really ideal. Hopefully it's more ideal than I've heard it is. For now, have a wonderful next few weeks and I'll write soon about my new house!

Words Can't Describe

Sometimes it's hard to describe my life in Africa to my family and friends back in the U.S. There's funny, bizarre things that happen that I don't even know how to describe, or that even seem normal to me after readjusting to life here. But I have a friend who has recounted a priceless and unique story about a particularly funny and bizarre event that happened to her in her life as a missionary with a camping ministry in Africa. Beware, this story has to do with rather large rodents and is a little out of the ordinary for the average missionary experience, but it might give you a taste of the unique events we face from time to time. Enjoy!

Reconciliation Update

Many of the former street boys I used to work with have been reconciled to their families after living at our center for several years. We were concerned about how these boys would readjust to living with their families, especially when some families are so poor. My friend GayLynn and I went to visit four of these boys at their homes about a month after they went back home. They all live in the same village and go to school together, so we went to see all of them in the same visit. When we arrived, two of them came running to meet us on the road. They had been very discouraged before they moved back home because they thought they wouldn't have many friends in their new school. But one of the first things they told us on our visit was that they have many friends and they enjoy living at home! We saw each of their homes and met their parents and other family members. We had also brought chocolate chip cookies, which these four growing boys wolfed down in no time! The wonderful thing about our visit was that these boys were obviously very happy. As you can see by the picture, they are great friends; they see each other almost every day. We drove into the village market area with them and bought them sodas while they laughed and gave each other a hard time in typical "boy" style in the back seat. We had such a great time with them, and at the end of the day they each wrote a letter to all their friends back at the center telling them how they are doing. And they each signed their letter "big boy". I think living back home makes them feel more independent and grown up, since many of them have more responsibilities at home than at the center. We really praise God for the things He is doing in these boys' lives and the way He has helped them readjust to home life.

Rat Killer, Anyone?

There is a major intersection that I have to drive through each day on my way home from Hausa language class. Instead of having a traffic light (there is only one traffic light in this city of about 800,000 people, and it only works when the president comes to town!), there is a traffic director who stands (very bravely, I might add) in the middle of the intersection and directs each lane of traffic. Usually when I'm coming home, traffic is pretty heavy, so I have to stop and wait at the intersection. Because it's such a major intersection, there are roadside salesmen who have taken advantage of the fact that people are sitting in their cars waiting for traffic and they might just want to buy something, so these men literally stand in the road at the intersection waiting for the line of cars to build up, then they make their way down the line asking people if they want to buy. Usually they sell things like belts, sunglasses, wallets, and leather bags, all of which they will assure you are major name brands, but they will give you a very big discount, just for you. Uh, huh. In all of this mix of salesmen with their fancy goods is the rat poison man. He doesn't have anything fancy, just a stack of red boxes labeled "Bomb Rat Killer!". I can always hear him above all the other salesmen. "Rat killa! Buy rat killa! You need rat killa today?" No thanks. But I always have to laugh how random the buying options at this intersection seem: belts, sunglasses, wallets...and rat killer.

Fortunately, I have some rat killers at home: namely some well situated traps by the trash pit. If you read my post about the thing in my ceiling, here's an update. We did catch "our man", who turned out to be a very large rat. He also had seven brothers, who all met the same fate. We and the compound guards were very happy, until the intercom system in my apartment quit working, and we realized that before the last "brother" went to rat heaven, he made a feast out of the phone wires in the ceiling. So we had to get that repaired. But now I don't have anymore creatures in my ceiling. I think our traps probably worked better than "Bomb Rat Killer". Sorry, rat poison man.

The Driver's Test

Most of us remember taking our driver's test as a teenager: a strange person sits in the passenger's seat and tells you where to go, you make a few mistakes you wouldn't normally make if you weren't so nervous, you hopefully pass, and then it's all over and you're glad you never have to do it again!

Well, the other day I found out: I do have to do it all over again!

I had a driver's license here before I left three years ago, and somehow misplaced it right before I came back. So renewing my license wasn't an option. I had to get it again. No big deal, I thought. Last time, I filled out the paperwork, paid the money, and gave a copy of my U.S. driver's license to show that I had been driving for several years. That's all I had to do. Missionaries who have recently gotten their licenses here confirmed that. But when the man who was helping me with the paperwork went to the government office to present my paperwork, he was told about a brand new law. All people getting new licenses must take a test, no matter if they have a license in another country or not. Apparently I was one of the first to fall under this new law.

So the man, Danju, who was helping me, gave me a book to study. I had to memorize the meanings of road signs (funny that, there is only one road sign that I have ever seen in our city!). I studied hard, then on Monday went with Danju down to the office to take the test. A man showed me a wall with pictures of the road signs on it, then pointed to various ones with a stick and asked me to tell him what they meant. I think I did okay, though I missed at least one. The man smiled at me and then said, "Well, I'll see you here tomorrow for the driving test." I looked at Danju in shock. I had thought this was the one and only test! I was told to come back by myself the next day at a scheduled time, and there would be an officer expecting me who would make me drive around the city so he could evaluate my driving.

Now somehow, me, a blond-haired white woman, driving alone in my car in a foreign country with an African man I didn't know from Adam, didn't really jive with me or any other missionary. Also, the fact still stood that no other missionary had to do this. I felt picked on! And I started to get really nervous about it. I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling very unhappy about this driving test. After speaking to some of the other missionaries, we all insisted that Danju return with me to the office and stay with me throughout the test. Thank you, Danju!

So we went to the office only to discover that most of the offices were closed and the people we needed to see were either not there or in a meeting. There was one man who could help us, and he was behind closed doors in a very heated discussion with some people. So we waited outside the office with some sketchy-looking men who were probably wondering what in the world a white woman was doing there. Did I mention I was so thankful Danju was with me?! Finally the heated discussion simmered down a bit, and Danju was able to go into the office, tell them I was there to take the test, and remind them that I already had a U.S. driver's license. Oh, yeah, we forgot, that doesn't matter to them! We were told, "Wait!"

So we waited. Danju went to eat lunch while I sat down on a bench in one of the now-open offices. Finally, Danju came back and said that the man we really needed to see wasn't around and wouldn't be back for another hour. Could I come back tomorrow? Sure, I agreed, a little unhappy not to get this over with now, but that's just how things work around here.

As we started to walk out of the office building, a group of men met us and announced that there was a man who could administer the test. So a man in a uniform eating a handful of peanuts followed us out to my car and settled himself in the passenger's seat, only to jump up and inform us that he had to get the special plates to put on my car. So he came back with big wooden signs to attach to the front and back of the car that said in big bold letters: "CAUTION! TESTING!" As a few men attached the plates, my uniformed, peanut-eating passenger got a cell-phone call and once again jumped out of the car. Then I noticed the men pulling the special plates off my car. I leaned out the window and asked Danju what was going on. "Oh, that man got a call saying that you don't have to take the test after all! They're just going to give you your license!"
Wow, was I ever thankful!

As we walked back inside the building to verify this, another uniformed man carrying the special plates and all of my paperwork marched over to us and abruptly said, "Okay, lets go!" I was in shock. The man turned to say something to someone else, and I turned to Danju. All I could do was laugh for a moment. Then I said, "Danju, I don't understand! What's going on? I thought they just said I didn't need to take the test?" The look on Danju's face was priceless. I think it was a mix of hilarity, dumbfoundedness, and disgust. I felt the same way.

So officer #2, obviously in a hurry, ushered us out to my car, put the plates back on my car, got out his list of items he was supposed to evaluate, and we started out. He took me to the busiest parts of town, and really, once we were driving, it wasn't a big deal. They were places I had driven before, and Danju was there to offer a comment or two to lighten the mood. And then it was all over. The officer got out of the car and went back to his office, and we were told to wait outside. From what we could hear, the officer was having a big argument inside his office, and when the door came open once, I saw that he was holding my paperwork in his hand. Great, they must be arguing if they should give me my license or not! Did I really do that bad?!

The argument finally stopped, the men all left the office, and I was told to go inside and sit down. Then after a few minutes I was told to go down the hall to another office. I was getting slightly confused and tired about this point. This office was full of men with uniforms, all a little nicer and less abrupt than the officer who had tested me. They all wanted to shake my hand, tell me congragulations, and let me know that I had passed the test!

So now it's all over. And I hopefully don't ever have to do that again. All that's left to get my driver's license is to wait for them to make it. Unfortunately, the card-making machine is broken and they don't know when it will get fixed! Yep, that's Africa! Not only was my driving tested, but my patience, humor, and self-control as well. I hope I did well on all those tests!

Yes, I Can Carry That!

A popular mode of transportation here is the motorcycle. People use them as taxis, and they are convenient because they cost less than taking a car taxi and they will take you to a specific location rather than just dropping you off on route like a regular taxi would. They are actually quite dangerous because they weave in and out of traffic and get into alot of wrecks, so most of us missionaries avoid riding on them. These motorcycle taxis often are seen not only with a passenger, but also with what the passenger needs to take from one place to another, whatever it may be. Sometimes the things people carry on motorcycle taxis are huge and seem almost impossible to balance. But I am convinced that the motorcycle taxi drivers all have one motto: We can carry anything! For large, awkward items, passengers often hold the item to the side or back of the bike (causing an obstacle for those of us driving cars!), balance the item on their head and the head of the driver, tuck the item in between them and the driver, or give the item to the driver to put in front of him (sometimes people carry multiple items, so the driver is forced to carry one item in front of him). Below is a list of items that I or others have seen passengers take on motorcycle taxis. Some of these might sound impossible, but they always seem to make it work, even if they have to wobble slowly down the road and cause an obstacle for others!
- 30 flat cartons of eggs
- a large bookcase
- a plastic lawn chair (not folding)
- 3 children, mother included
- a large, live hog
- live chickens
- lumber
- a large pane of glass
- a box spring for a bed
- rebar, extra long
- a door
- a car engine
- rolls of carpet
- two business men, complete with suits and briefcases (with the driver, there were three men on the bike!)

That's Our Man!

I've had the week off from Hausa class, and it's proved to be a very quiet week. But it's helped me to see and enjoy the little things that make our lives truly interesting as missionaries. Mostly, we just live and work like everyone else in the world. It's the little things that make life different for us. And that was apparent to me the other night.

We had no electricity that evening, so I was sitting by candle light in my living room when I heard an awful thump in my bathroom. At first, I wondered if the little shelf fastened to the wall above my sink had fallen down. I carefully walked in with my candle to survey what damage there was. But everything was still there; nothing had fallen. So I figured I had heard something outside instead. A few minutes later, I heard the same kind of sound in my kitchen, not as loud this time. Then I realized- it wasn't something in my house; it was above my house- in the ceiling! We have had rats and shrews around the compound lately, so I was sure that this was one. I know that the ceilings in my house are pretty strong, but it unerved me a little to hear scampering directly above my bed that night! Fortunately, this was the only night I heard this, so the animal apparently got out and went somewhere else.

Last night at our compound prayer meeting, I made a comment about it, just in case someone had a brilliant idea for keeping this rodent out of my ceiling. One of the other missionaries said that he'd set a trap; he just needed to know how big of an animal we were dealing with! So he went out and asked one of the compound guards if he had seen anything. Abraham said yes, that he had seen a large rat hanging around our trash pit (we dump our trash in a pit, then burn it regularly). The other night, he saw this rat somehow climb up the two story building and get into the roof. So the missionary came back to me and told me with a grin "That's our man! We'll catch him with a trap by the trash pit tonight!" Through a small community effort, hopefully we'll catch our "man" and we won't have to hear anymore "thumps" in the night...at least for a while!