Christmas in September?

Ever packed up an Operation Christmas child box? Many people have, but few have been able to see the results. Our church building is relatively empty. There's just a djembe, some wooden benches, and a podium to fill the space. Add some concrete walls and a dirt floor, and it's not much to look at. So, it was easy to notice a Samaritans Purse box in the corner of the church this Sunday. It was a box left from last Christmas. However, I didn't know that there were still six gift boxes to be distributed. My brothers and sisters had saved them for nine months.

Now, it was time to open them and distribute. But how do you give a gift meant for six children to thirty or more?

Check out the video I made to find out 

All in all, it was an awesome experience, and I'm so glad to have been a part. 

Language, Round Two: Still up and Fighting

Right off the bat, our team liked the new program a lot more than the old method. It required a bit of working with our teacher(s), but it was definitely worth it. One teacher completely understood, while the other was a bit resistant to repeat and to let us simply listen. Day one, he made one of us cry, one of us very confused, and the other wanting to punch him. After working with both (and having to go back to just one instructor), we've finally got the process down.

As the designated language nerd, I spend class time mentally playing with sentences, since the program doesn't allow us to talk right away. Then, Amanda just shakes her head and tells me I'm enjoying this too much. Now, we have a good 300-400 words under our belt. To give you an idea of things we have learned (and just for some entertainment) here are a few things we could say:

     I am riding my tiger to the market to greet my friend Umu.

     I am taking my rabbit. à I am setting my rabbit on fire. (unfortunately similar statements)

     I drive my iron horse (AKA bicycle) to the village.

     The old man kicks the cow. The cow bites the old man’s elbow. He headbutts the cow.

     I park my car on a goat.

     I am combing the lion’s mane. I braid the lion’s hair. He has a big head.  

     Karissa is thinking about boys. (This was actually our teacher's suggestion)

All in all, it's been fun learning, but I'm ready to be able to talk freely in their first language, instead of a foreign language for the both of us. That will make drinking tea for three hours that much more enjoyable. 

Lost in Translation

For the past week and a half, Team BK (that would be my coworkers and me) has been delving into language learning. We have a tutor who comes to our compound to teach. However, since the strongest language we have in common with our teacher is my French, a lot is lost in translation. Even after a couple hours of study, my brain is the consistency of jello from attempting to filter through three languages simultaneously. So, classes haven't quite gone as we had hoped. 

Here's a little snapshot of class: 

Formal class: 

Our teacher: (insert Jula word) ...  (give meaning in French)
Me: (discuss meaning in French)

Our teacher: (gives another variant of the original word and explains why one would use it.)

Me: (more discussion in French)

Me: (relay word to teammates, slipping into French mid-sentence)

Team BK: (forgets original word)

After class, we would attempt to practice with locals. This idea would be a great one... if we were in the city where we will be living. However, in the capital, the language we're learning isn't really spoken by the majority. In fact, there are over 60 languages spoken in the country, which makes finding Jula speakers a bit more difficult. 

This is typically how it went:

Street practice:
Vendor: (greets in Mòoré, Fulfuldé, etc.)
Team BK: (looks elsewhere)
Fruit lady: (greets in Jula)
Team BK: (broken greetings)

Fruit lady: (continues in Jula)
Team BK: (blank stares) 

Fortunately, we were trained in a newer language learning approach this weekend. In this system, class wouldn’t need to be translated, taking away the frustration of the team in having to wait on me and my frustration of double translation. Lord willing, we'll be able to pick up a bit more this way. It would be nice to actually talk to people eventually...

Home, Sweet, Sahel

I live here?!

The past month or so has been a time of redefining what the term home means. I landed in the Sahel of Africa in May, travelled down to my city for a week, and got back on a plane to head for more training in Zambia. When the plane landed, I learned how diverse Africa really is. 

To show what I mean here are some comparisons. Let's just assume I live in the dustier of the two pictures:  

 

I must admit, visiting Zambia almost made me jealous. The air is clean and dust-free. The people smile and greet me in English. The climate is pleasant, and the stars are ridiculously beautiful.

After a while, though, I found myself wanting to get back to my African home. I wanted to get started learning a language that’s useful for my people group, learning the specifics of West African culture, and building actual friendships instead of one-conversation relationships. I wanted to plant some roots where I will actually be living for the next two years.

However, there was a kink in my plans. During our bush camp experience, we found out that our team’s supervisor was diagnosed with melanoma. It was a question mark as to whether or not Melissa and Shad, who had taken us in as a part of their family and made us feel like home in our city, would be around. On top of possibly losing a large chunk of our family/team, we weren’t going to be able to go back to our city for a month.

Thus, I (internally) pouted for a bit, mourning a loss of direction and home. Where am I supposed to belong on this big, spinning ball of dirt? In a lot of ways, I never really felt like a “normal” American growing up. I think hamburgers are decent, but I could live without them. I studied French in college. I am kind of a hippie more often than not. For sure, I’m no African, either. Nor am I much of anything else. So, what am I?

I landed on this truth: regardless of my location, I am, at best, a foreigner in life. It’s good, though. In Christ, I am free to be undefined. I can be homeless, in a sense. Christ came to break down divisions, making new life and redefining home for me. So, my home is now wherever the Lord puts me for a time. Bigger than that, God has made His home inside of me, so my way of classifying myself doesn't really matter that much any more. It’s a pretty awesome concept, when you think about it. 

“For Christ himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility. He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household.”

Hello, Africa

As I stepped off the plane from West Africa to Zambia, I had to ask myself: Is this Africa, too?! I had resolved myself to the reality that where I live is not like what is portrayed in The Lion King, but I have finally seen some parts of Africa that are. So much has happened in the past few weeks, but here are a few highlights from my time in Zambia:

First we learned to manage in an urban environment: getting on minibuses, asking the right questions, seeing how Westernization affects Africa, sipping Mirinda (my new soft drink of choice), and being invited into homes even when they don’t know us. While Zambians are super welcoming and friendly, we learned that they are a very secretive group. It takes some work to truly get into an African’s life. I'll take that challenge, thank you. :)  

  Next, it was off to bush camp, where we were living in a legitimate tent city. Even without the comforts of the first world, this was my favorite part. We learned the joys of the longdrop/ latrine/ squatty potty: bees by day, bats by night. Honestly, I don't think I've ever talked about poop as much in my entire life. Water for baths had to be pumped from the well, heated by kettle over an open fire, and put into our makeshift showers (which were buckets with faucets attached to the bottom). The villages were empty in the daytime, due to harvest season, so we went out to people’s fields and joined them there, chatting and harvesting alongside them. We heard more of the dark underbelly of African culture as we interviewed witchdoctors, met girls who couldn’t speak until their mother-in-laws paid them, and heard of rampant polygamy.

Finally, the piece de resistance: homestays. We lived with an African family for a few days. It was an experience learning to draw water from a well, cooking nshima (a grits-like paste), sweeping a dirt yard, picking beans and okra, cleaning pots with mud and detergent, and trying our best to communicate [Who knew cow meat and cat meat could sound so similar?] All in all, it was a great time learning from our African brothers and sisters. I've been reminded of how diverse this continent can be. I've seen the (more) glamorous spots as well as several not-so-glamorous ones. It all just makes me excited to get back to my country and begin to be involved in life there.

Limbo

Seriously going to miss these folks

This is how Africans do dinner

Some favored folks back in Athens

Mumsy!

What a whirlwind of events the past month or so has been!

Currently, I'm in an odd time of transition. I'm looking back to all the things I've learned at training, looking forward to life in Africa, and looking around at all the people loving and encouraging me as I go. Really, I'm not sure that I could feel more conflicted about things than I do right now, but it's good. To love is to be vulnerable and to have warring feelings.

Even though I tend to be out-of-sight/contact, out-of-mind with people, God is never out of touch. He is completely involved in every area of the world at once, as well as intimately involved in the tiny details of my life. He's not so small as to only focus on one place and time. I've known this, but it's cool to see how while I was learning and growing in VA, so were people in Athens and Eastman, Georgia. God is always working. I may be going to a place without churches, access to the Bible, or believers, but I'll never go where God is not.

Relaxing = wandering in the woods
I love my family.

The B.F. Team in D.C. 

In spite of my ever-shifting emotions, one feeling has really stuck out in my transitioning: Encouragement.
After word-vomiting the events of the past nine weeks on my mom, I was encouraged by her love and support for what I'm doing. After being overwhelmed by the grandness of my church in Athens, I was encouraged to see how people I know are growing in Truth and not blind tradition. I was encouraged by their prayers for me. After traversing the state of Georgia a few times, I was encouraged at each stop by friends and family who are cheering me on and sincerely showing love for me. Even some who barely know me have made their support known. 

However, this encouragement will soon become muffed from across the ocean. When it comes down to it, I cannot rest in the affirming words of people I love. I need to trust that God is the one who gives endurance, encouragement, and brings people together.

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.  [Rom 15:5-6]

Things I've Learned

For all five or so of you who see this, my life has been a overflowing fountain of learning the past several weeks. Unfortunately, it took a crippling virus for me to finally sift through my thoughts for the world to see. I’ll try to sum up the most interesting points as best as I can.

As one who likes to study and understand people, I was fascinated by our studies of anthropology and worldview. It made me think about how I relate to and have related to those around me. We all have a “people group” or “culture” around us. It may be one we claim or not, but we can’t ignore it. We may not even recognize it, but how we understand the world. For example, I’d say that I’ve dwelt among worldviews/cultures as various as: Southern Belles/Beaux [aka South Georgians], hippies, artists, bandies, ghetto kids, athletes, brown people, WASPs, the Christian culture, hipsters, the Greek [frats, that is], the green movement,  nerds, and the list goes on and on.

Now, what does that matter? Can’t we all just get along? Sure we can, but we must know how to communicate. Most likely, there is someone in your circle that has a different view of the world. Even if they have the same worldview as you, do you meet people where they are with the truth? It made me think about how I talk to others and explain my thoughts and ideas. Do I just throw a script of what I believe at people, or do I actually listen to everyone as a human being, valued by God? It’s a tough question, but it’s essential. Do I look to love people by telling them the truth or do I just want them to agree with me? If I claim to be a follower of Jesus, I need to follow His example of living life with people and speaking into that.

So, those are just some thoughts from the week. Enjoy. 

Remember...

In a matter of hours, I will begin my trek to Africa, where I will stay for the next two years, studying language and culture. One thing I have learned in the meantime is that people have a lot of profound things to tell you when you're leaving for two years, especially my dad. He's always been one to make the most menial occurrences a story and lesson, and it's been even more of that, now. 

In one of our long truck rides spent imparting wisdom, he told a speech that his football coach had given years ago. While the few words were for football players, they were still applicable for where I am, now. I thought I'd share a bit of the McDonald wisdom with the world. You're welcome. :)

"Keep these in mind as you progress: 

1. Remember who you are.

2. Remember what you're here to do. 

3. Remember, I love you."

He went on to explain how it could relate to our heavenly Father, as well.

So, for me:

1. Remember who you are: Without Christ I am naturally messed up (call it "sinful," if you will). However, Jesus payed for my rebellion, my idolatry, and my pride with His perfect sacrifice. Now, I am a righteous daughter of the Creator and Controller of the universe. Sweet. :)

2. Remember what you're here to do: I am here to know God more and love people because of it. All other relations and activities fall under this umbrella. 

3. Remember, I love you: Yes, God does. He continually shows it, even on my worst of days: Grace!