Solo

"I want paper."
"What, Gift?” I can’t understand him through his mumbling.
"I want paper!" Still mumbling, but the more emphatic tone helped the decibel level of his voice.
“What do you say?” Seriously, he should know this by now…
"Paper please.”
“Okay,” I reply, pointing to the stack of paper on a different desk, “you can have a piece.”
“Paper please!” Now Gift is frustrated.
“Yes Gift, you can have a piece of paper, it’s over there.” Didn't I just tell him that he could have one? My patience is tired, and I’m getting frustrated.
“I want paper!!”
“Gift, the paper is over there, you can have a piece.”  My patience is now disappearing.
“No! I want paper!”

Patience: Gone. I let him stand there until he decided he could get the paper that I said he could have.  And the day had only started. Hello Thursday.

Later that day Alyssa came up to me. “Gift told me that I won’t go to heaven.” I looked into a pair of very sad six-year-old eyes.  Obviously, Gift did not get the “Be nice” message I had given him not too many minutes before.

Life with this child is 90% frustration. If he doesn’t get his way, on a good day he pouts. On a bad day? He will fake cry (loudly or more softly), knock his chair around, shove things off the other students’ desks, throw his textbooks around, glare, and do everything he can to get attention. 

And thus went my week. Laurel got a parasite which was causing problems and the medicine for it made her sick (yes, she's fine, no, it's not Ebola), so all week it was my solo time, with an audience of eight students, each with his or her own different needs needing to be fulfilled. Everything went fine, and I resorted to having the older kids help the younger kids, even if their work for the day wasn’t done yet. Even so, handling the lessons for the grades that I normally don’t and explaining everything to everybody, mixed in with the usual concentration problems, made the week rather hectic and long.

Julian (6th grade) and Claudio (5th grade)

“Excuse me?!” I sternly demanded, “I’ve told you ten times already to be quiet and work on your Bible assignment…. No, you don’t need to talk to each other to write a paragraph about what you think heaven is going to be like.”

And dealing with Gift didn’t help. Not wanting to sit and do something like everybody else is makes life hard, especially when he starts being noisy and distracting. My patience was wearing thin, I was tired, and ready for the week to be over, but we still had Friday to look forward to.

And Friday came.

The day started off with Gift refusing to sit in his chair during worship. Then it so happened, that I could not understand what the kindergarteners were trying to tell me, even if they were speaking English. When Gift still would not be quiet after being asked multiple times, I put him in time-out, sitting in his chair at his desk. A little while later, I found him next to my desk.

“Chair not nice.”
Excuse me? Chairs aren’t nice? Okay…. “Who’s not nice, Gift?” I asked him, wondering if I heard him correctly.
“Chair not nice.”  Yup, I heard correctly. If anybody had been focusing on their work, they definitely weren’t now. This was just too good to ignore.
“No Gift, chairs are very nice!”   Everybody is successfully distracted.
“NO! Chair not nice.”
“Yes Gift, chairs are nice. They don’t hit you or anything!”
“Chair not nice.”
“Chairs are nice Gift.” And round and round it went as the other students tried not to laugh out loud.
“Jesus nice, chair not nice.” He emphatically tried to convince me.
“Yes Gift! Jesus is nice! And so are chairs!”
“No! Chair not nice.”
I took Gift back to his desk and gave him something to do. And of course, I had to physically put him in his chair. As I’m getting him settled, another student pipes up, “Moral of the story is: Don’t have kids!”

Later that day, he was upset for some reason I don’t remember. Then his fingers were accidentally smashed in the door. More crying, more tears, but at least for a reason we could actually deal with this time. Even so, this Friday felt like it was going to last forever.

I oftentimes feel like the most impatient person in the world. Patience doesn’t seem to be one of my virtues. In the same way, I feel like I have no business being a teacher to my students here.  I wouldn’t say I have no clue what I’m doing in the classroom still, but there are times when I wonder…
But, today I am thankful for a God who can enable me to smile at my students at the end of the day and still love them, no matter how the day went. I am thankful for the joy that He gives me through my students. And I am thankful that God is capable of doing so much more than I am, so much more efficiently. He is Good.

And the week wasn’t all bad…

Alyssa has an alphabet dot-to-dot coloring book, and needed help connecting the dots. So we sang the song.  By the end of the song, the whole class was singing, “Now I know my ABCs, next time won’t you sing with me.”

“Can you write, ‘I love my teacher Talea?’”
I happily wrote it down on the paper Alyssa supplied for me. Anytime sweetheart, anytime! A moment later, she provided the same paper, asking me to write “I love my teacher Laurel” this time. Then she wanted me to write for her, “Laurel get better.”
Later that day, guess what she gave me :) This girl is SO SWEET!!!

Last Sabbath, we received a note from another very sweet student, Lillee. “To the best teachers ever! Happy Sabbath!”

Please excuse me as I go mop up my melted heart….

All our students, ready to go to the pool for swimming class.

My impatience can be displayed in the pictures that I really don't want to draw. One very fat elephant.

Gift was thrilled with it. Whew!

On Being Small

Lillee (year 3) and Alyssa (kindergarten).

The kindergartener’s sobs grew steadily louder, and nothing would comfort her, let alone coax the reason for the tears out of her. From what I saw, nothing happened physically, and I didn’t hear anything. What on earth could it be? Finally, she calmed down enough to communicate, through deep sobs and monstrous crocodile tears, that the other kindergartener had called her small. I closed my eyes and sighed. Seriously?!  We had already lived through tears of stuff being taken by the other kindergartener, having to share the crayons, being tagged while playing tag, and a handful of other small incidents. Granted, it was all over a good period of time, but by this time I was tired of tears over such “simple matters,” and this in particular was not something I wanted to deal with. 

But wait a minute… How many times did I go home from school in tears because the other kids made fun of my height? How many times was I hurt and upset when random people in the grocery store thought I was five years younger than I actually was?

Too many times to count. What made this any different? Absolutely nothing. I could definitely understand her heartbreak and pain over what had been said. I took a deep breath, appreciated my parents all the more for their patience with me, and asked God to grant me some of that same patience. We calmed our distressed student down and assured her that no, she was not small, and the day went on.

Too cute not to share :)

This whole experience was during the first month of school.  The tears have become pretty much extinct now, though the accusations of being small haven’t quite disappeared. Just the other day as we were sitting down to story time, the same kindergartener sadly and very offendedly informed me that the other child had called her small.

“Gift, did you call Alyssa small?” I asked him, a stern expression on my face.
“Uh-huh!” he very gleefully replied, his face FULL of excitement, obviously very proud of what he had done.
“No Gift, that’s not nice.” I then impulsively added, “You’re small.”
“Me small, Alyssa big?” A look of complete shock replaced his previously excited expression, as if he could not possibly believe that he was small.
“Yes.”
He pouted and sat lower in his chair.

Gift (kindergarten), with his adorable
smile through missing teeth :)

Gift is our child who is just now learning English. I know that he knows the meanings of yes, no, time-out, and “what do you say (i.e. please, thank you)?” especially since he decided it was cool to tell me “no” when I asked him to do something. He is learning English fairly well, and sometimes I’m amazed at what he says and uses appropriately, but I’m not sure at times how much he really is understanding. So, to make my golden-rule “if you don’t like being called small, you shouldn’t call other people small” point, I turned it on him instead of trying to explain it to him in words I didn’t know would process correctly - I knew he would understand the few words that would make him feel just like he had just made Alyssa feel.

But was that the right thing to do? Was that even Christian of me? Did he understand it? Was it effective? Is that what Jesus would have done?  Was that being patient and loving? Would a simple time-out have been a better option?

I have no clue. No clue at all. I pray that I didn’t just ruin the boy’s life, and that he actually understood what I was trying to get across to him. 

Language barriers are difficult things and can be quite stressful, but thank goodness that God is bigger than every barrier and can defeat them for us.

Swimming class. Sitting on the sidelines because these two were sick
and couldn't swim that day....

20 Hours

Christmas break came, and Laurel and I decided it was time to go on a little journey, to help rejuvenate ourselves, in the splendor of God’s African nature and wilderness…

I sat in my seat on the already crowded bus and waited for the rest of the passengers to board. The seats were too small, and the aisle even smaller. Somebody who had just gotten to their seat in the middle of the bus turned around to get off, with all her luggage. Nobody moved out of the way. As the lady worked her way past people in the narrow aisle, the passengers waiting to get to their seats were squished this way and that, into other seats, into other people. A purse was suddenly occupying the same space as my face, and then a body moved into that same space. I leaned over into Laurel’s space, hoping to get away from a little bit of the squishiness. It didn’t work. Finally the people were seated and the bus roared on down the road. The air was stale. The bus was stuffy. The atmosphere was hot. I was cramped. And I was about to go crazy.

Buses that we didn't take.

Waiting for our 20 hour bus ride.

Personal space does not exist in Africa. People are not afraid to push in a queue. They aren’t afraid to rub shoulders in the market. They aren’t afraid to touch your arm, because they want to know what a white person’s skin feels like. They aren’t afraid to take up your seat space on the bus as well as theirs. 
I don’t like it. But that’s their culture. 

When I am around people I don’t know, my personal bubble is a decent size, so after three days of crowded buses, and twenty hours to endure on this bus ride, I wanted to scream. This bus felt more like a prison than transportation to adventure. I hadn’t realized it before, but I missed my personal bubble fiercely. I didn’t want to be squished or touched anymore. How was I going to survive all twenty hours of this bus? I closed my eyes and turned up the music on my iPod, hoping to drown out the bus’s music with The Canadian Brass. I tried to relax and not think about what I wanted - my comfort zone.

But, as I’ve mentioned before, I didn’t come to Africa to be in my comfort zone. I didn’t sign up to be a student missionary to be comfortable. Though some aspects of life here are comfortable now, there are things that definitely are not comfortable yet, and I don’t think they ever will be. But that’s life everywhere, for everybody, isn’t it? There will always be things in life that we like, and there will always be things in life that we don’t like. The key is figure out how to enjoy life through even the things that we dislike.

Needless to say, I survived that twenty-hour bus ride. Without screaming. And the adventure after the bus was well worth it.

Sossusvlei, Namibia

This is what the Atlantic Ocean looks like from Namibia!!

Swakopmund, Namibia

This pretty much sums up our friendship :)
Yay for Intercape (aka, nicer) buses!!

Namibian Sunset

Victoria Falls, Zambia

I Love Elephants

When elephants cross a river, they don't swim; they walk along the bottom of the river. When the water gets too deep, they simply raise their trunks above the surface of the water and keep on going. This works really well, unless you are a little baby elephant. Though baby elephants are big compared to other animals, they are not big enough to complete this task. 

So what do they do?

The mommy elephant walks in front of the baby elephant, and another elephant follows behind. The baby elephant holds onto the mommy's tail, and the elephant behind holds onto the baby's tail and pushes it along. Without this method, the baby would not be able to cross the river and stay with it’s mother.


This is just one beautiful example of the wonderful design in God’s creation, and also a wonderful lesson in teamwork.

Disclaimer: No, I unfortunately did not get to watch this happen - the tour guide told us about it.

Pleasant Dreams

The evening air stings my face as I step outside into the cold evening air. My breath forms a small cloud in front of my face. I take a deep breath, of the icy air. My lungs scream in protest. Above me, snow gently dances from the skies, leaving the world with a new look and a magical feeling. The street lights cast homey glows on the deserted streets. I pull my scarf tighter about my neck and button my coat. My gloved hands find their way into my pockets as my arms and shoulders tighten into the cold-weather-shrug in attempts to preserve body heat. It is cold.

I wake with a start. Sweat rolls across my forehead and drips off my head. It’s too hot to sleep. My brain quickly switches from my beautiful dream to reality. I’m in Africa. There is no snow on the ground, and there is no reason to even consider thinking about wearing a coat whatsoever. Dreaming of a white Christmas is as pointless as taking home a real, live elephant for my brother (yes, he asked me to bring one home for him...).

I miss being cold. I miss sitting on top of my heater in Foreman as a desperate attempt to get really warm. I miss fog, ice, and snow. I miss the welcoming warmth of entering a building from the cold winter weather.

But at the same time, I love Africa. Rainy season has begun and everything all around me is coming alive with color. The country-side is absolutely beautiful, and the animals and birds here are exotic. The people here are wonderful, sweet, and kind. I am blessed to be here. God has made up for the lack of cold and snow in fantastic ways. Even though Christmas will be extremely different this year, it will be wonderful. :) 

Merry Christmas from Malawi!

Liwonde National Park

Thanksgiving in Africa

I cleaned off my plate and went back for seconds. It was Thanksgiving Day and all the American missionaries got together and had a big potluck. There was a LOT of good food (lots of classic dishes) and I happily followed the good ol’ American tradition of completely over-eating on Thanksgiving Day. Because Malawi is not the United States (haha, not a new concept, I know), Thanksgiving is not celebrated here, and we still had to teach on Thursday and Friday. Teaching on Thanksgiving just felt wrong, and it felt equally wrong to interrupt my Thanksgiving Dinner Coma to get up in time for school the next day.

Beautiful Malawian Countryside

I often feel guilty, eating my fill, living in a house, having a fan and running water. There are so many people who do not have that. So many people live in shacks or lean-tos. Most people pump their water from a well. They cook their meals over a fire and have no electricity. They have no money. Their clothes are worn and tattered. They do not have enough food.

Being here where the people do not even have enough food to feed their children and seeing it with my own eyes has made me more conscious and thankful for what I have. 

So, this holiday season, I am thankful for:

…..having to monitor how much water I use, because it means I have running water.

…..the hot stove burners that I burn my fingers on, even though I turned it off a half hour ago, because it means I have the electricity to cook my food to help avoid food-poisoning.

…..the rooster that cock-a-doodle-doos outside my window incessantly and wakes me up early in the morning, because it means I am still alive. 

…..the terrible heat that proves that my nervous system is still functioning.

…..my fan that brings relief when I feel like I’m going to die from the heat.

…..how sore I get after a session of aerobics with the nurses, because it means I can still use my body.

…..people here who give us rides to places we need to go so we don’t have to rely on public transportation or help us with whatever we need because that keeps us safer and shows that we are cared for.

…..my students who make me smile daily, because it shows that even though teaching is hard, it is rewarding and worth it. There is joy in the difficult.

…..the bad internet connection that will cut out in the middle of a call home, because it means I have a way to talk to my family.

…..the absolutely gorgeous sunsets that completely take my breath away, because it reminds me that beauty is present even in the poorest of places and circumstances.

…..the prayers from all my friends and family at home - it means the world to me.

Most of all, I am thankful for God. He has so greatly blessed me with the best friends and family, both here and at home. He takes the best care of me and loves me every moment of every day, even though I most definitely do not deserve it. I am SO incredibly blessed!

Funnies

We have adventures. Of course, with Laurel being a red-head, what else are we going to have? These are a few of our golden moments that I thought you would appreciate :)

Bug Hunts

Okay, so not quite hunts. More chasing is involved than anything. One particular evening, I was trying desperately to kill a certain mosquito that kept threatening my space. I was next to my bed, and suddenly, he was there too. I was all focus. He hovered above my bed. Okay Talea, now!!  It would have worked, I could have killed him, if only my body had jumped when my brain told it to. But no. There was a three second delay between the brain and the body actually moving. When my body finally responded and moved to kill the mosquito, it was in “slow-motion” mode. Needless to say, I missed the mosquito and awkwardly fell on my bed. For Laurel’s viewing pleasure, I tried to kill a mosquito that was far away from me and failed. I’m sure it would have won an award on “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”

Emotions

One Friday afternoon, we were watching “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” as we were preparing our supper. Laurel was chopping an extremely strong onion… “Man these onions are strong!” I look over and see her eyes watering. “Quick! Take a picture to prove that I actually get emotional and cry during movies!”

Haha, nice try Laurel, nice try.

Spider Battles

Do I talk about bugs a lot? I feel like I do. I don’t like them, in case you hadn’t picked up on that :)

We were at the lake for Mother’s Day, taking some time to relax during the break from school before the next quarter of school began. Laurel and I being there alone, we were being cautious not to be in any unsafe situations. This means being in our room not long after it gets dark outside: 6:00pm. That leaves us with a lot of time to do absolutely nothing. Laurel had rented downloaded the movie “Second Hand Lions,” which meant we could only watch it once, so we were waiting for the perfect opportunity. This seemed to be it. We positioned ourselves on the cool, cement floor and started watching. Half way through the movie, a big, disgusting, weird, flat (and did I mention big?) spider crawled out of nowhere and ran across the floor. I graciously paused the movie so that Laurel would have the opportunity to decimate the vile creature. She missed, as he was a quick enemy and scurried under one of the bunks. Laurel shrugged her shoulders and resumed her place next to me to finish the movie.

Me: “Um… Aren’t you going to kill it?”

Laurel: “No, I don’t know where he is.”

Me (in desperation): “He’s under the bed.” Laurel didn’t seem too motivated. “I’ll even help you!!!”

Laurel, in a surprised tone: “Really??”

Me: “Yeah! Somebody has to hold the flashlight!!”

As hard as it may be for you to imagine, I reigned victorious over that spider. I don’t remember if I used my shoe to kill it or Laurel’s. But he was dead and we were at peace to finish the movie.

Rice

Laurel loves rice and eats EVERYTHING with chopsticks (except for cinnamon rolls). She’s part Asian, if not all. She is very well disguised with her white skin and red hair. I have yet to figure out how she managed that. I really don’t mind her inner Asian, I like rice, but I roll my eyes at her every once in a while. I can’t let her go too long without somebody giving her a hard time, right?

Well, we have ground breaking news!! On October 30, 2014, Laurel said she didn’t want rice. 

And I have a confession to make: The past couple of days I’ve been craving rice. Laurel may be rubbing off on me. 

Please don’t be surprised to see us at a rice-aholics anonymous meeting when we return to the States.