My brother Dave and my sister-in-law Ellen arrived a couple of days ago. Their smiling faces are a blessing to us. Plus! They came rolling in with the supply train. yes. Brownie mixes, cheesecake mixes, extra Airborne, a couple of good DVDs and childrens books for the library project. Oh. We are in heaven.

As you would expect, there is quite a bit of sadness to struggle with here when we see people we are fond of and respect living in distressing situations. Poverty, sickness, lack of opportunity for example. People in these situations have as many responses as there are colors in the rainbow: determination, courage, anger, heartfelt prayer, discouragement, hope, despair, strength, bitterness. Some doggedly search out the tiniest of opportunities with a patience that is beyond me. Sometimes we are seen as that opportunity. Consider this saying -  "Wazungu (whites) are like a river. You can dip your bucket in and take water from it, but it isn't diminished. It just keeps flowing." 

As for how we approach the opportunities here. Well, we have many opportunities to hand out a few loaves and fishes. We are doggedly pursuing the One who calls us to do that. Surely the few sardines in my hand can become a feast when in His hand. Pray for that when you think of us. 


It sure is interesting living here.

(-:

Update on Matt. He's back in DaDaab, Kenya, getting another young American man settled. Next stop for him may well be a school in Nairobi that takes in drop outs. Apparently when he interviewed there, they took him on a tour and introduced him to several classes. When they told the kids he might come and teach P.E. they all cheered.

Play is valued the world over, eh?

more on meals...

Friends of ours who've been here 30 years shed more light on the meal deal. People in developing nations have a "feast or famine" way of approaching eating. If the food is available, they'll eat a lot. If not, they can go without food and take it in stride...

Stride or no stride, you'll still find me under the bed.

Daily Bread

I know about poverty. I've read the statistics. It's different when poverty has a face. Here at the university we are somewhat isolated from poverty. Students and professionals wear clean, stylish clothing, carry cell phones, interact as students and faculty do at universities in the U.S. So I drop my guard here. Poverty is pushed into the background.  When it finds me dozing, it pounces.

Case in point: I’m spearheading a library project at the primary school adjacent to the university and recently arranged to hire the teachers there to do the card inserts. Their salary is woefully low and the extra income was welcomed enthusiastically. The head teacher, Conrad, and I met briefly to plan the logistics of our Saturday work day. I suggested that the teachers bring their lunches since we were planning to work the entire day. He did not understand what I was asking. So I rephrased my suggestion and saw that he was a bit perplexed still. After a third reiteration it became clear to me that he was not comfortable with this request and sidestepped the whole issue by asking that I speak directly to the teachers about it. Luckily, before I plunged us all into similar discomfort of group proportions, I ran into the librarian/teacher. Dear Ayubu was a very adept go between. He relayed to me that no, the teachers did not want to break for lunch. They preferred working straight through. Really? (Images of lunchless American teachers striking filled my mind.)

Okay, then. No lunch break.

Finally it dawned on me.

They do not eat lunch.

Get it?

As a matter of course, the teachers do not eat lunch.

I confirmed this with Tim’s teaching assistant by asking what meals were typically taken in Tanzania… particularly by teachers. (He is a former teacher) Some do have two meals during the day. Some don’t. In some schools tea is provided mid day. Some do not eat at all until evening. This is their daily routine. Dignified, professional, employed teachers do not have enough money to eat three meals a day…

This is when I go to our little house, shut the door, and crawl under the bed.