My Take on the Week

Morning in Africa

Sometimes I look at the week coming at me and see appointments, deadlines, get togethers, do-lists, work and play all neatly assigned to their days and times and locations.  I see the week as if I'm taking a quick glance at iCalendar. 

This week I don't even see day names, let alone specifically assigned time slots.  This week presents itself to me as follows...

Phase 1: Hug Byron goodbye/Hug Heather hello.

Phase 2: Hug Heather goodbye.

Phase 3: Enter no-man's-land/Watch movies/Watch more movies.

Phase 4: Hug my parents hello.

Phase 5: Hug Colin, Trevor and Karly hello.

Phase 6: Hug Byron and Heather hello.

Phase 7: Figure out how/when I get to hug Jesse and Annie hello.

I think it's shaping up to be a pretty good week :)  

(And what's 10,000 miles when there are so many good necks to hug?)

Heather, in Quotes

Heather and I are home again in Tanzania and I'm too warm and sleepy to reflect much on our amazing trip.

Allow me instead to give you my 3 favorite Heather quotes from the time in England.

When in the little village of Send (where I lived when I was 8-10 years old) we passed a farm and a certain horse caught Heather's attention. In a slightly Anglicized voice, Heather muttered, "That horse belongs under my bottom!"

While gazing at one of the ornate and beautifully painted ceilings in Hampton Court Palace, Heather wondered, "Why do people always think that angels are naked babies?"

And finally, after a very welcome shower at the end of a long flight and a hot arrivals terminal, Heather declared, "It feels good to get the stink off."

I must say, I do like traveling with someone who makes me laugh :-)


(On the train to Waterloo)

Dessert First (and Byron's back slowly improves)

Today I had dessert first, which is to say that I read my pleasure reading before my work reading. It felt sort of luxurious to just read for the joy of it. But it was Sunday and the pleasant verandah at Sidai was telling me that this is what a Sunday morning away is for.

Last week was a bit of a blur to me. Most of our emotional energy in that time went into managing this pain that was radiating down through Byron's sciatic nerve to his calf and foot. It was just no fun. In fact, it was quite hard.

Can I just qualify that by saying that both of us are acutely aware that debilitating pain in the leg is a very small problem compared to what most of sub-Saharan Africa deals with. So Byron and I are well convinced that his pain isn't too important in the scheme of things, but it sure was throwing a wringer into life for us. I was surprised by how much work we got done despite Byron's condition, but I was distracted from most everything, worried for Byron and discouraged by the ramifications that this much pain could apply to our up-coming time in Portugal and the States.

And so it was that, after a full Friday morning of therapy and doctors appointments and x-rays and amped up pain medication, we finally made it over to Ciska and Ian's house to leave for a weekend away at one of the camps under their care. This has been in the works for a long time. We wondered, in the days before, if Byron's pain would cancel the trip, but it didn't.

We didn't DO a lot this weekend and that was just right. We mostly enjoyed the beautiful setting, our kids and the friends we were there with.

For my part, I was thankful that no speeding lorries knocked me off the tarmac and that, once we got into camp, I had a very nice verandah and a selection of good books to enjoy. Byron was none-the-worse for the car ride (he was lying down for a lot of it) and he relaxed, too.

Reality sets back in tomorrow. We are entering our last full week here before the great journey to the other side and there is a TON to do.

Blech. I don't look forward to being away from home for so long. But... Joy! I look forward to the friends and family we will see :-) Hugging our older boys... coming soon!

Beige--the Color of My Adventure

"Oh, Lisa, why so beige?"

I'm standing in the bathroom at the hotel in town where I'll catch my shuttle to Nairobi and OH MY GOODNESS, I'm totally beige! I'm wearing a light brown t-shirt and skirt, which both kind of weirdly match my hair and skin. I've never noticed before that i look all one color. I glance down and see my black sandals. Phew! I've broken up the beigeness with a bold and daring... black? Boring. I am one big blob of medium bland. But maybe that's not so bad. As my dear Mindy has famously said before, "Might as well start out with khaki in Africa because it will all be khaki soon enough."

Well, the bus ride unfolds into 6 hours of travel, alternating between a few scenarios. We have bumps and potholes. We have crazy lorries that we have to swerve away from. We have the counter-swerve to keep us on the road after we miss the lorry. We have the clouds of dust that are billowing through the bus, and the tourists who are yelling at people to close their windows. We have the stifling heat when the windows are closed too long and the tourists who are now instructing people to open their windows. Bossy tourists, I note. We have the shady characters who want to change my money at the border. We have the tired looking customs officials whom I don't want to cross.

We have quite a lot going on.

Besides all this, we have the growing panic in my chest that this might finally be the trip when I do actually miss my plane because the shuttle is taking longer and longer these days. We have my desperate repetitive and somewhat ridiculous prayers asking the Lord to get me there and to chill me out.

I would have liked to listen to music but ha ha! I can't see what's written on the tiny screen of my iPod when I can't hold the thing anywhere close to still. I opt to just observe my fellow travelers and fret a little.

Did I already mention it was 6 hours of this?

So, we get there... The lovely Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. In time, too. I pull off my dusty sandals and change into proper closed toe shoes for (cold) England. I stuff the Chacos into my case as I wait to check in.

Through security and upstairs, I make my way to the cafe. A large cup of hot Kenyan tea soothes and comforts and I feel better, even in the crowded and stuffy departure area. I'm here.

OK, we're going to have to clean up a little. In the ladies room, I find that my comb can't actually get through my (beige) hair. It's crusted over... Become crunchy with the sweat and frequent powderings of dust. I kind of scrape the comb around a little and clip my hair up again. Crunch, crunch. I pull on jeans and shove my skirt in my carry-on.

I'll wash my face--even though the signs tell me to only wash my hands. The attendant is there, annoyed with some women in long burkhas who don't know how to flush the loos. It's not their fault. It's not her fault. And we don't need to be annoyed. I wash my face anyway, figuring it's pretty obvious I'm not preparing for prayers and I'm not going to splash everywhere.

I also wash my sunglasses which are black, but are covered in a thick coat of beige. However did that happen?

I'm finally on-board and we're taking off around midnight. I usually like the chance to watch some films I haven't seen. I like to clean out my in-box and maybe read. But no, not tonight.

I'm out. I wake up for a few mins to eat dinner and then again for my breakfast. The nice steward is serving me tea and it's not as good or as hot as my Kenyan brew last night, but that's ok. I've got Houston's Three Feet From Gold on my headphones and I'm soon going to land in London. I'll have time to shower and pop round to the shops before making some final notes for my teaching time that night.

I come to a pleasant little realization. I really love my friends in 24-7. Why else would I put myself through this? :-)

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.

We do Jigs and I Grow Up

As I said, little jigs all over the globe these days as our family moves toward Arusha.

The adventures of getting us home have been great. Nearly missed flights, fully missed flights, lost bags, telephones left on planes (and miraculously retrieved), mistakes in itineraries, low luggage allotments, charges for extra bags, hazardous roads with crazy drivers, forgotten health cards with the needed immunization records... All quite alarming for a family of well-seasoned travelers!

At one point, I was in Africa on Skype to my parents in LA who had Byron in DC on their speaker phone and the 4 of us were connected as we waited to see how things would resolve after the missed flight of one of our offspring.

Each little and big incident has caused some level of anxiety in me. And yet, I am thankful.

I am thankful to learn a little more about the kindness of strangers, the generosity of customer service reps, the merciful intervention of a caring God. I am thankful to learn how to look the issues dead on, do what we can, pray for help and then let them go.

I think I have grown.

"Mama, I love you!" I hear Trevor's morning greeting as I make breakfast and I think to myself that I would live it again in a minute to hear that.

There is one nomad still on walkabout: Jesse Boy. He arrives on 21st (and can I say that I'm looking for no more dramas other than the highly dramatic happiness we will feel when we see him.)

And the very next day will bring Darrelle. Darrelle is the college friend who has captured Trevor's attention. How fun for us that we get to have her in Africa with us for 3 weeks!

Blessed and blessed... That's what we are!

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.

Here I Am...in Scotland! (Notes from Travel)

So I've arrived in Scotland! I've come here to meet up with the others on the International Leadership Team for 24-7 Prayer and I'm excited to see everyone when they get in later today.

I don't even know where I am. I'm in Pertshire at a wonderful country home called House of Cantle. It was about 1 hour and 20 mins drive from the Edinburgh airport, though I have no idea which direction we headed out of the city. But we came through moody, misty hills and along cold rivers and lochs. Pretty perfect.

Byron, Colin and Heather are at home in Tanzania and I'll be back with them by Wednesday.

Here are some things I noted as I journeyed from Kilimanjaro to Nairobi to Heathrow to Edinburgh.

Travelers leaving East Africa are often predominantly tourists and, therefore, there is a festive kind of high even in the dimly lit, poorly ventilated hallways and waiting lounges in Nairobi's international airport. Even the most exhausted tourist look pleased with themselves for the safari they just took OR are about to take.

Some advertising slogans don't really cross cultures well. I saw a wine in the window of a duty-free shop that is apparently a Kenyan wine. The slogan read, "You'll love it... Or, you'll learn to love it." To me that reads, "It's not very good but you'll get used to it eventually."

Some duty-free shops should consider getting a new buyer. One in Nairobi featured household appliances. They had irons on display. Not travel irons, mind you. They were the chunky steam irons that you normally find in a permanent location in someone's home. "Ooh, Mum needs a new one of those!" They also had blenders in the window. Yea, that's what I'm thinking about buying as I rush toward my gate.

Color choices denote where you live. Africans of all races wear more colors than people in the UK. To land at Heathrow in February is to be greeted by a sea of nationals dressed in every shade of black and dark grey. It makes the winter seem darker, don't you think?

Mothers understand each other. I smiled toward an African family walking quickly to their flight. The mum was draped in conservative covering, though she was free to show her face. She noticed my, "Oh, I remember how it feels to travel with little kids smile" in her direction and flashed me a lovely, "Thanks for your support" smile back.

British Air domestic flights make a good breakfast! I was given some lame excuse for a breakfast as my flight prepared to come into Heathrow from Nairobi. But on my domestic flight from London up to Edinburgh, I got the real deal. I believe we call it the full English breakfast as it included eggs, sausage, bacon, baked tomato and mushrooms and a cup of tea. I was just missing the baked beans. Very impressive!

Sitting for hours on end, be it in an airport or on a plane, makes me tired. The trip has just caught up with me big time. Boy, I better go grab a nap before the rest of this team gets here.

(Photo courtesy of House of Cantle)

Getting Here

Up at 3am on Saturday morning and out we headed to Kilimanjaro International Airport. We had to stand outside with the other passengers from that flight as the airport wasn't open yet :-) That was a first.

Our one hour flight to Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi was easy. Above the clouds, we saw beautiful close- ups of Kili. The lady at check-in didn't allow us to take our carry on bags on this first small flight. Byron had to cajole her to book them through only to Nairobi so that we could collect them there. She didn't really like sending one all the way to Madrid and letting us collect our other two little ones, but she did it.

In Nairobi we saw a fearsome sight! As we walked from the plane to the terminal, across the black top, we saw hundreds of bags being sorted by hand and carted off toward the aiport buildings. It didn't look any too organized or promising.

We had to clear immigration and go down to baggage claim to get our bags. Byron's came through fine.... Then finally mine MUCH later. Believe me, I had been praying hard to see that little blue bag appear through the rubber strip curtain!

We checked ourselves back in, stopping to point out to the counter lady that on the next leg we were seated in two middle seats away from each other. She was very kind and scrambled around and got us two together at the bulk head. An aisle, a middle, lots of leg room and togetherness. Much better!

Next stop was Schiphol in Amsterdam. No problems. No hassles. We even had time for a quick dinner.

We landed in Madrid at close to midnight and found that our one checked bag had not made it with us through the 4 airports that day. I was thankful that Byron pressed for us to get our hand luggage in Nairobi as that had almost all my stuff.

Two metro stops later, and we were in the heart of Madrid. It was a warm Saturday night and the narrow little cobbled streets in this old section of the city were filled with groovy young people "going out." It felt so much like an area of Lisbon we used to frequent!

We walked just a few blocks to Kelly and April's, finding Kelly up at 1:30am to welcome us. By the time we climbed into our bed in their very sweet little apartment, we had been up for 24 hours.

So we slept!

We had one quick morning to catch-up with Kelly and April and meet their cute little Alleke. Too short! After our very Madridian breakfast of toasted bread with blended fresh tomato, olive oil and salt on top at a local cafe, we hustled off to catch our speed train to Sevilla.

The train was a very pleasant experience. Jonah met us in Sevilla and we were soon sitting in another very neat little Spanish cafe eating tapas for a late lunch.

All in all, it's been a good time getting here. Our meetings start tomorrow. This is a long post because it was a long trip! We are happy to be here and all is well :-)

Where Am I?

Well, I'm in London, that's where!

It's so weird to be here because it seems we just got to Tanzania.

But here I am.

I have the very good pleasure of serving on a leadership team with the
24-7 Prayer movement and we meet three times a year. So on Monday afternoon I took a five and a half hour bustrip from Arusha to Nairobi. The open plains of Africa were quite lovely, even if the road was quite bumpy, as we traveled.

At the airport I checked my little bag (a great mistake as I could have carried it on and it's now lagging behind somewhere) and went up to the transit area where I had a cup of tea before my 9pm flight.

There was a couple of large groups of people in matching outfits and one such group was on our plane. Maybe 75 people? It looked like one group made up of smaller groups, each smaller group being an African family. I wondered if they were refugees being relocated? They had a couple of people traveling with them to help them understand what to do. Anyway, I liked them.

We stopped at Entebbe and then on to Brussels. That's where the bag went missing. In fact, the plane from Brussels apparently landed in London with an empty hold. No one got their bags! Crazy.

Then I trained across to Guilford from Gatwick. Beautiful English hills and pastures and paddocks and fields in the morning sun. I thought about how cool it was that I was watching Africa out my window yesterday and England today.

Now I'm "resting" and doing computer work and getting excited to meet with our team tomorrow through Friday. I am honored off my rocker to serve on this team. I love these people!

PS I told Heather that Trevor would be me while I was gone. I said he could do her hair and help her make toast and call Talhia if she wanted to go up and play. When I told Trevor that he had to be me he said, "OK, but do I have to blog?" Ha ha!

And PSS Today is my wonderful dad's 75th Birthday!! Happy Birthday, Dad!! Of all the places in the world I could be, I wish I could transport myself for the day to be with you!