Heading Out

4:44 a.m. and I have that pre-trip wakefulness. Getting up in an hour anyway to make sandwiches and do a last minute list check. Looking forward to joining the fam and a little team. They've been helping at a very rural elementary school many hours off the road. Now they're shifting camp and going to spend a few days hiking and adventuring. Off line now till next Wednesday. Hurrah!

Sidai

"Sidai" is a Maa word used for good, well-being, pretty, beautiful.

It's fitting, then, that we had 2 days away filled with good friends, well-being, pretty places and beautiful views. We slipped away to Sidai Camp and just chilled for a couple of days.

Time for contemplative meditation, poetry and reading alone. Time for the togetherness of friendship and campfires and meals shared.

Esidai :-)

The Famine and Michael

Last night I sat in a Chinese restaurant in East Africa with a group of Californians while cable television beamed Michael Jackson's memorial service above us as we ate our Szechuan Beef. The Tanzanian waiters were attentive, though their real focus was on the screen. We munched our Spring Rolls as I pondered it all...

The memorial service and the entire giant "event" of Jackson's passing, felt both very close and very far. I return to LA every 2 years and I just drove past the Staples Center less than 3 weeks ago on my way to LAX for my flight back to Africa. I can easily imagine the buzzing helicopters overhead, the snarled freeway nightmare of traffic, the way all else seems to be on hold until LA decides to move on again.

But our group of 12 was out for dinner after a day of prep for some days in the wilderness. Byron, my husband, is leading them today into a remote area of Maasai-land on a reconnaissance trip, if you will, to visit different projects we are involved in. The team is on a journey of discovery regarding how they might build involvement in Africa.

Initially, we planned this time to include some interaction with the local church, the local primary school, a well-digging project we have going and a fair trade artisan group we work with. But the April/May rains failed in this area of the country and our friends in this community are now struggling for their lives. There is widespread hunger and the "f" word is now being used regularly. Oh, lest you think we're losing it, the f word in this case is "famine."

Famine. I hate that word. I hate what it does to my friends. I hate the demeaning, ugly reality of lack of food.

As I sat there passing the rice, (with way too much food on our table) I thought about those thousands and thousands of people gathered in LA to honor a celebrity. The service was a mild distraction for us. We star gazed with the rest of the world. "Mariah Carey!" "Queen Latifah!" "Oh... who is that.... Oh! Lionel Richie!" But our hearts weren't into it. At least for Byron and me, our hearts were heavy with the anticipation of what the group might find as they assess the extent of the famine and the plausibility of doing something appropriate, immediate and lasting in response. But the thousands, yea, millions, watching the service weren't thinking of famine. They were grieving a man.

And that's when it hit me...

The millions of people watching that service were totally unaware of famine in northern Tanzania, but they were experiencing famine just the same. The total distraction of millions of people by the death of one terrifically talented, if broken and hurting, man reveals a famine in hearts. There is an aching famine of hope; a powerfully destructive famine of meaning.

I didn't resent the attention given to the death of one man any longer. Instead, I grieved that there is so much devastating famine all around me.

By "Beautiful" I Mean BEAUTIFUL (and Byron's back hurts)

It's beautiful at the springs. We camped there Saturday night with Tait and Hunter and Tehur (and Colin and Heather.)

Byron's back has taken a nose dive after the last 3 weeks of too many long hours on bad roads and too much heavy work, but even he was happy to be there. Better to rest on a blanket under the trees than to lie on the rug in the living room and get tempted by all the work he thinks he should be doing. But the drive home was painful for him.

We saw the physical therapist today and she was very good. We travel on April the 1st and so the goal is to have Byron out of pain and able to handle the long hours of travel between here and LA. The therapist had Byron figured for sure...

"The problem with people who have a history of back trouble," she said, "Is that they are used to it and they expect it to get better if they push through and so they don't necessarily do what they should do to treat it."

Um, yes. That is the trouble. She held her tongue nicely and didn't come flat out and just call him a dork for not taking better care of his back. He's fifteen and half years post a very successful back surgery... and he should know a little better.

So, back to beautiful.

Tonight, I feel 2 things simultaneously. I feel deeply content after a 24 hour stay at the springs with people that I love. (Tait and Hunter made us all crepes with multiple delicious toppings for breakfast on Sunday.) But I also feel sad about Byron's back pain. He looked lively this evening for a while when he was excited about some very cool solar lights he was looking at that are designed to save Africa. But he soon faded again. I've tucked him in now with a hot pack.

Heat, rest, stretches, brisk walking, ibuprofen, cold packs if he wants them... these are his orders for the next few days. With prayer added, I think we've got the bases covered.

I'll put this photo up as his desktop to bring on the memories of a happy weekend. I'm certain those will be good toward the healing.

Fragile

Life in Africa is so fragile.

Yet as soon as I write that, I think of the hardy life that I know here; people who survive in the most difficult of circumstances. Resilient, stubborn, odds-defying survival is normal.

Like Tait's friend, who shall remain unnamed, who lives around the corner from me in a tiny building that is a bar of sorts. Her mom sells beer to make a living and she lives behind a thin partition, a veil that may or may not protect her from the night. And yet, every morning she dresses smartly and walks proudly to the school where she is training to be a secretary.

On the one hand, then, life is not easily crushed here. Like indigenous plants, it finds a way to beat back against the ravages that come against it. When over-grazing strips the earth, the tangled weeds eventually come up and make the land unusable until the grasses have a chance to return. It may take 50 years, but it will happen, (if we don't interfere, that is.)

But conditions are harsh. Not for me, particularly. As I have said before, we don't live at a hand to mouth level and so we are not held by the whims of condition. Poor harvests may increase my grocery bill, but I will still put food on the table for my family.

Conditions are harsh for my African friends because life is not padded in any way.

Last week a man I know lost his sister; a family lost their 37 year old mom. She was working outside their home, where she has been working every day. She was going about the business of splitting rocks into smaller rocks, to be sold for use in construction. The family land is on the edge of a gorge; a dramatic gorge that provides good rocks for splitting.

But she slipped. And she died. And that was the end of that.

I suppose that her work had her in danger every day. But she likely never thought about it. What where her choices? This was an available job that she could do. This norm of people working jobs that put them in danger is accepted. Providing for your family may just simply require that of you. So she broke rocks with a hammer on the edge of a cliff every day.

I know that accidents happen all over the world. But when I consider that this will be the third funeral that many in that community will attend within the span of a month, I do pause. A road accident... an infant succumbing to disease... a fall... Even after all these years here, I remain disquieted by the fragile nature of the hardy life I see around me.

Skinny Band becomes No Band (but we escape to the beach)

We've had no internet for most of the last week. That lovely broad band (which we call skinny band as it can't do a whole lot at a time or with much speed) disappeared altogether.

I'm telling you, it just makes me grind my teeth when I have a pile up of work that needs done and needs done on line.

Big sigh. Cleansing breath. Patience. Oh yes, didn't I just say it was a good virtue to grow?

On a happier note, we had an unexpected 3 day trip to the Indian Ocean with friends. Picture us with sand between our toes, too much sun on our nose, (which should be noses but that doesn't rhyme,) salty hair and much pleasure taken in the warm air, warm water and warm friendship.

Just What We Needed

I could feel myself spiraling last week. I was tired and cold (so grey and miserable in Arusha these days) and, as previously noted, I was too aware that time was rushing on and there was not much give in the weeks ahead before Jesse and Trevor leave again for California and college.

So... We grabbed the opportunity on the weekend to run away together for 2 nights. I had looked at the calendar and noticed that it was the last truly open weekend before their departure so we said, "We're outta here!" It was Friday when we made this decision and we left at 6am on Saturday.

This little camp-out with the 6 of us may well turn out to be the highlight of the summer in terms of our family life.

As we sat around the camp fire on that first night, our conversation turned to Europe. We called Europe home for about 7 years and we've only been based back in Africa for 14 months now. It was really good to laugh and talk about good memories of people, places and events. We grew so much there. It was a priceless season in our lives and it good to talk about what we miss.

It was so life-giving to recall those times together. It's healthy to give recognition and remembrance to seasons and passages of life. I found it particularly healing because I am feeling lonely for the family of friends we shared life with there very acutely right now as I know they're all in Hungary for their annual gathering. Each email from one of them, letting me know we are missed as they come together, brings me twinges of separation and loss pain.

On Sunday we spent about 8 hours hiking up to the source of the Engare Sero River and back again. It was a stunningly beautiful hike up out of the desert sands and into lush gorges and under plunging, thundering waterfalls from springs pouring out of jagged cliffs.



It wasn't entirely easy but we saw no one all day and we worked together, enjoying each other's company, for hours and hours.

Now we've returned to Arusha-town replenished. I am most re-filled spiritually when I am able to be out in Creation. Creation helps me connect with my Creator and I love that.

I'm just so thankful for the tanked-up feeling and fact that we didn't let short notice stop us from getting what we so badly needed.

Thank you, Creator God.



Photos by Jesse and Trevor Borden

The Trek aka All Boys Safely Home (Updated)

The boys arrived home safely on Saturday evening and now it's time for a little photo log of their 16 days. They walked 93 miles but completed a 368 mile circuit when you include the public transportation they used.


On trail


In camp


The soda flats of the desert


Looking back over a section of the desert they crossed


Up in Loita


Loita again


And home :-)

They have some great stories... But those are theirs to tell.

"Leggy Blondes"

Here they are--the six trekkers as they left yesterday for their 16 day walk across the dessert and into the hills of northern Tanzania and southern Kenya.

From left to right we have: Colin Borden, Chase Russell, Skyler Russell, Trevor Borden, Jonny Pollard and Jesse Borden.

(For those of you who don't know Jonny, he also grew up in Kenya with this group of boys.)

OK, am I nervous that they are off on their own in not-exactly-domesticated country? Yes.
Am I happy for them? Yes.
Will I be relieved when they get home? Yes.
Would I appreciate your prayers for their safety? Yes.
When do we expect them? Around July 5th.

For now, we miss them--our "leggy, leggy, leggy, leggy, leggy, leggy, leggy, leggy blondes."

PS They buzzed their hair for the trek; an initiation ritual that they allowed Jesse to opt out of :-)
PSS The rest of us Bordens and Russells will be away now till next Friday, 27th. Signing off till then...

Photos from Recent Days...

It was hot on the roof near Natron, but there was a great view.


We got up early to watch the sun rise over the lake.


Then we saluted the sun.


We crossed into Kenya...


And made our camp...


And found our river...


And played in it.


We walked all over...


Discussed bead work...


Held Nalotuesha's baby...


And made new friends :-)

Photos by Jesse Borden--with his Nikon D 70 S.
(Got a Nikon camera... Mama, don't take his Kodachrome away!)

The Kindness of Strangers

Traffic in and around Nairobi in the evening is something that you never want to be caught it. It's gridlock with potholes and dust and heavily laden lorries carving new lanes on the median, the non-existent shoulder, through and around the cars packed tightly in one log jam to end all log jams.

I was trying not be nervous. And honestly, I was doing a pretty good job of it.

What's to be nervous about? I have taken the 5 hour shuttle bus from Arusha to the airport in Nairobi several times now. No matter how shocking and disastrous the traffic appears, we always seem to pull up to the grungey curbside of Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in ample time to get checked in and upstairs for tea and a samosa before the flight. The flight is in the middle of the night and the long journey to the terminal is jut a preamble to the rest of the trip.

But something seemed wrong to me on Monday evening. In fact, something WAS wrong.

Walking up the aisle, I asked the driver about my stop at the airport. I felt for the other passengers who still had to make it through the choked arteries of the city to the designated drop-off sites downtown but I knew that this was all part of the deal. You buy a ticket and let them know if you need the airport or one of those other 2 stops. My ticket said "International Airport" right on it and the other travelers would just have to abide the brief detour on their way.

But this little piece of info that instructed to the driver to make the airport stop had some how not been conveyed by the shuttle company to their fine employee.

"What? What? What?" he yelled, "No one told me about the airport!!"

Just about then, the shuttle came to a complete stop and the gridlock closed in all around us. We were stuck, pointed toward the city with no way to get me back toward my flight. At best, if we crept into the city and got ourselves turned around after dropping the other folks off, I might get there in about 2 more hours. But it could be longer.

I started to not feel so calm anymore. I was trying to trust and relax and not freak out, but I can't say I was doing very well, though I looked pretty good (maybe) on the outside.

As I explained the predicament to the nice gentleman across the aisle, the driver started yelling at me that this was MY fault because I was late to the shuttle and so they had failed to ask me where I was going to alight.

"No," I said, "I was NOT late to the shuttle. I bought my ticket last week and told them then that I was going to the airport and I was not late today either. This is NOT my fault!" I added with uncharacteristic firmness. "NOT MY FAULT!"

Sitting in the parking lot that might eventually open up and become a thoroughfare into the city once again, I began to wonder what would happen if I missed my flight.

And that's when the pleasant looking Kenyan woman from across the aisle and behind me spoke up.

"Can I take you to the airport?" she asked.

I blinked and tried to understand.

Well, her partner was going to meet the shuttle as soon as we hit the next major turn. She was going to get the driver to let her out at this unscheduled stop and the car would be pointed the right direction for the airport. She was volunteering to take me a long distance out of her way after the long afternoon of a long journey.

My feelbe mind raced, trying to think if there was any reason I should not accept this offer. But next thing I knew, the shuttle was pulled over and the driver was climbing on the roof to retrieve my bag. I held onto his arm as he held onto my luggage and we crossed 4 busy lanes of traffic in the dark.

The car was pretty flash and nicely cooled by the air conditioning. I slipped into the back, wondering if they were connected to organized crime and might they want to sell my internal organs in some seedy alley before dawn?

For a few deeply panicked moments, I feared I had left my wallet on the shuttle, but my desperate digging inside my pack finally produced it.

I think I was breathing pretty normally again as I climbed out at the BA check in and they handed me my bag. They wouldn't take any money for fuel.

"What's your name?" my rescuer asked me. Her name was Connie.

Connie handed me her card and asked me to send her a note so that she would know I reached London safely.

Now, I'm winding up my time here in England with my (oh so wonderful) 24-7 prayer buds. I am tired and looking forward to getting home. There are many miles and hours ahead of me before I find myself there, but I expect that all will go well.

I climb into bed tonight still smiling at the outlandish kindness of a total stranger.

A Tale of 2 Parties

A sunny afternoon in a green garden. We had tables set for tea and ladies in smiles and pretty clothes. It was a bridal shower for a fellow international and everything was perfect.

So many treats! Imported chocolate chips in the cookies, amazing samosas, gorgeous cakes and little cupcakes with cute bridal decorations. There was lots of "Oohing" and "Aaahing" and plenty of laughter. No nice touches were left out. The tea sets all matched just beautifully.

I drove back across town afterwards and through the gate to our garden.

In one corner of the lawn, a group of Tanzanian guys and one white husband of mine hunched over the goat they were slaughtering. Colin and Heather were playing soccer on the grass with a couple other young men and another collage of guys were getting the grill ready.

There was meat, meat, meat and more meat by the time the roasting was done. We had bits of it between our teeth and plenty of grease on our fingers. There was a dart board and a lot of joking around. There was a vat of hot chai to follow the crate of sodas and Heather taught willing participants how to play Tick Tack Toe. The dogs munched happily on tasty bones.

It was one incredibly full afternoon, evening and night. I enjoyed it all.

But secretly, I liked the second party, (the one on my lawn with the guys from the local welding shop) the best :-)

And I am Tired...

I am so tired tonight.

It doesn't make a lick of sense that I'm writing here. But I just want to make sure I am as close as possible to sound asleep before I put this little Mac away because I don't like going to sleep when Byron's not home. (I know, kinda pathetic.)

Neither of us slept much last night-- he with that pre-trip thing that keeps your mind ticking, veiled just ever so slightly by a light and unsatisfying sleep. It's a bad sleep like a non-fat something. Gross.

Me with all that too, just vicariously for him. I didn't have to get on a shuttle early this morning, rattle over 5 or so hours of bad road and then spend the afternoon in the back streets of Nairobi purchasing hundreds of dollars worth of beads for our fair trade artisan project, then getting said beads shipped back to our town before grabbing food and then making the painfully slow taxi ride through the congestion out to the airport for a midnight flight to the States. But I slept like I was facing it too.

Today I sort of bumped into walls and vaguely saw that Heather did school. I put laundry up and down on the line several times as the rain stopped and started throughout the morning.

I got stuck in the most nasty gridlock I've seen yet in Arusha. I spent about 3 hours getting across town and then back. This is just a little African city! Holy cow, Mother!

And I wandered into Tammy's house tonight for our team dinner, fully aware that I was too tired to be much company. I hate it when I can hear how incoherent I am being.

But now I think I can safely say that the day is done and it's time to sleep. There is a little girl sleeping next to me in her Daddy's spot. She says the pillow smells nicely of him.

Yes, I am tired, tired, tired. But I am happy, content, and peaceful.

The rain has begun on my roof again and I'm settling in for a good sleep. The full fat kind :-)

Foto4Friday

"Ok," Byron said as he looked out of the window this morning,
"I'm getting a little tired of the rainy season now."

Foto4Friday

The other day our little fam (and the Russell kids) hiked into Uru Falls on the slopes of Kilimanjaro. It was lovely.

Photos by Skyler Russell

Of Hedgehogs

I read today on the BBC that a man in New Zealand is being charged for using a hedgehog as a weapon. He threw the wee thing about 16 feet to hit a young man with whom he must have had some problem.

Weird.

Another weird thing... Last night I woke up to the strangest noise. It was a squeaking screaming barking kind of thing. I asked Byron if he knew what we were hearing and he said, "It's a hedgehog, " followed by, "Charlotte!! Cut it out! Leave it alone! Charlotte!"

So I have this Jack Russell (Charlotte) that feels compelled to protect our garden from hedgehogs. Terrific. I wish she would just leave them alone. They are cute and harmless (though I hear you can contract dread diseases from them) and I don't know why the dog has developed such a strong dislike for them.

Our night guard rescues them from her. He scoops them up and tosses them over the hedge in an effort to help them escape the crazed terrier. I hope they find refuge on that side.

(Photo taken by Jesse last summer here in TZ)

April Arrives

It's April and the rains are here in full swing. We can't get the drilling rig out to Wild Hope's new property to begin the work of searching out water because the final four kilometers to the land are not passable for a 20 ton truck right now.

Sigh. Africa does teach a person patience.

I posted today on the Conversant Life blog about my struggle to make sense of good gifts in the face of poverty.

See you over there...

Foto4Friday

The boys are back in town.

Colin, (on the left and aged 14) and Chase (of the Russell fam, on right and aged 15) went off on a safari of their own. They have been planning and plotting and preparing for a long time. They took 2 forms of public transport out to a tiny town and then hiked in 5 hours to the home of a Maasai friend. They set up camp near Ole Kukan's house and did day hikes up into the hills to spy on wild life, enjoy the views and generally have great adventures like getting caught in thunder storms and the like.

My camera is on the blink so they just held up my little Mac and smiled into it right after they arrived home.

They were tired, hungry, happy and very pleased with themselves. We were extremely pleased to see them again. At one point the Land Rover they were in was briefly chased by an elephant, but they had no other terribly dramatic incidents.

Yesterday...

Yesterday we spent the afternoon of Easter with friends. We spent a good deal of time cutting fruit and veggies and grilling a variety of meats on the barbie outside. It all tasted wonderful and there was a good celebratory feel in the air which, I think, is what Easter should feel like.

But the best part of the day was our hike. After sending the Peace Corps volunteers, who had to get back to Moshi, off on the bus, we headed up Lucky Lucky. (I'd kind of like to know how the hill got that name.)

It was a little late in the day to start a hike but we were determined. Besides, we had all promised Heather that chocolate treats would be hidden at the top.

The sky was going all pink and gold and the grass was thick, green and wet. The mud was especially sticky and clumped to the bottom of our shoes, giving us chocolate colored platforms to walk on. It was really quite amazing that no one fell on their backsides as we slid and sunk in the wettest parts.

After a hunt for pastel colored surprises that Max hid (and Gina looked for with a distinctly competitive shine in her eyes) we began the slip and slide walk/run back down the hill, trying to beat the darkness home. We thought about the hyena that Max and Gina said they saw not far from there as we made our way through the coffee bushes toward the end of the adventure.

I loved the way the clouds cleared to show us a new covering of snow on Mount Meru. I loved the 360 degree view of a green expanse of Africa. I loved the thick groupings of bright green coffee berries weighing down the branches we moved through. I loved the brisk air and the fact that Heather left her shoes behind accidentally when the mud got too thick. I loved the feel of being with friends as the day came to a close and the tired, happy feeling in my muscles as I climbed into the truck to go home.

Easter is a good holiday. Such a good thing we have to celebrate!

Foto4Friday