The Hindsight of a Year, and the Death that is Life

It's funny the things that get you ... and the things that don't, when you walk this part of this kind of journey. One morning before Christmas I was in the post office. One letter to mail. There was the usual post office humdrum and conversation (comforting really ...), the rotating rack of greeting cards, the smell of newsprint, the reassuring presence of people just like me, waiting in line. Normal life.

A poster of coming holiday stamps was up and my eyes sifted through them thinking which ones I might like to use this year. Such a regular, routine activity. Yet after 2 + years of constant change and nothing dependable from season to season or year to year, for that matter, it's a deliciously conventional feeling ... like, 'wow, my life may approach some semblance of normalcy, and I can think about doing normal things at normal times again!'

I'm Grateful: The Journey From Autumn to the Most Wonderful Event in History (Part 3)

Every year when the bounty of summer starts to give way to the mysterious and ancient winds of change that are Autumn
when leaves fall
when skies are blustery
when hopes of something secret and riveting
hidden in the deep sleep of winter flicker on frosty air
when squirrels busily eat the red berries off the dogwood trees
and here in South Sudan when grasses die
when the mud turns to dust and clay
when the vibrancy of rainy season is sucked away by the sun
when the days burn off the humidity
and the nights find me snuggled away from the chill under multiple blankets, candles lit -

I'm Grateful: South Sudan (Part 2)

I'm grateful this year, to be back in South Sudan. Surrounded by the earthy Moru existence that I love so well. By drums, and gourd shakers, and dancing, singing friends in church. To know the words of the Moru hymns and pipe in heartily with my own voice - loud enough to make me happily hoarse afterwards - like everyone else.

Break, Planes, and this African Life

Yesterday’s departure from Mundri for our break was like a scene out of Home Alone.  The one where everyone finds out they slept in because the alarm clock didn’t go off and they might miss their flight. They jump into a flurry of frenzied activity, throwing things into suitcases, running about the house getting this or that, and squeezing into the airport van hoping that they haven’t left anyone or anything behind.

24-ish Hours of Wow

It’s been a rare 24 hours indeed.  As I stood sopping wet from the shower getting ready to go to town for some errands, my friend Cici called.  Her very pregnant sister Maria was in labor, the baby sitting bum-side down, and things were not looking good.  Maria already has 6 children, and none of her labors have ever been as bad or long as this.  Cici asked if we might be able to help them get to the hospital in Lui (17 miles away - but an hour or so by car, owing to the bad roads).  'Of course!’

One minor problem.  Our main vehicle (Brown Sugar - the land cruiser that seats 11) had just been taken by another team to Mvolo.  Our other vehicle (White Bull - the water truck that sits 3 in the cab) had been taken by our friend Rooney to do a bore hole repair.  Someone had seen him pull back into town this afternoon, but he hadn’t shown up at our place yet.  And we couldn't seem to reach him by phone.

You Make Beautiful Things

Andrew just made a new video clip of our work here in South Sudan.

Feel free to check it out here.

Ebenezer Totem

1 Samuel 7:12 "Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen and called its name Ebenezer [meaning 'stone of help'], for he said, "Till now the LORD has helped us."

One very fortunate advantage of living this crazy between-two-worlds missionary life is the frequent book-ends that mark and divide my time. Quarterly goal reviews with team leaders; yearly team vision retreats; the welcome trek back home to Philadelphia and Canada once a year; and the regular cadence of birthing projects and reporting back as the different seasons unroll themselves like ticker tape.

Kid's Club

We used to get really irritated with neighbor kids coming and fishing in our trash pits, making noise, leaving messes, sometimes stealing things. We try to get them to first greet us and ask for things rather than jumping in the pit and getting hurt (one morning I had to fish a kid out who couldn't climb up!!) or running away like thieves when we come outside to address them. Then we give them containers and other prized trash that we've saved so they don't rummage in the pit.

Merry Christmas!

From the South Sudan team...

our neighbors...

my incomparable home-stay family...

our Moru friends...

and my favorite little Moru boy Caleba and I!

May you find joy in knowing Emmanuel has come to you

and celebrating Him with all the sweet souls He has put in your life.

Love and Hugs,

Larissa

Olofo Ngwa Te (Lit: The Baby Was Taken Out)

Yawn. Yep, that was pretty much my sentiment when the clock went off at 6:15 to rouse me to yoga this morning. It was dark and raining (as it seems to be all the time these days). At 7:30 my eyes opened again and I attempted to shoot my tired body out of bed. It ended up more like a drag, but I made it out, and that's what counts on days like this! 

Tea, homemade yogurt and granola, starting four workers into their work on the compound, doing some dishes, getting in some reading in Genesis and Psalms, and I was off to Mama Viviana's house to celebrate!

Teaching Ag at BNTC

It's 6:39pm on the clock. I've been banished from my garden by a feisty afternoon rainstorm. I'm not complaining - grow cucumbers!  Grow radish!  Grow squash!  Grow tomatoes!  Grow! And actually, it's a good moment to sit down and share some exciting and much-overdue thoughts about BNTC.

Absentee Bloglord. Part Three: Anything and everything you could desire to know about what I do in agriculture.

Installment Three: May

Eating by Season, Fruit, 'Prune'-Ups, and Planting. :)

It's a wonderful thing to live by seasons here. In November and December we are rolling in citrus: succulent key limes, big gnarly lemons, sometimes oranges and tangerines, even. Once they disappear from the market in January and February, the tamarind comes ready on trees and everyone is walking around sucking it or shaking bottles of it mixed with water and honey. The juice is AWESOME.

Absentee Bloglord. Part Three: Anything and everything you could desire to know about what I do in agriculture.

Installment Two: April

Mango Madness & Experiments in Dehydration, Fermentation, and Preservation.

The arrival of mango season is always a cause for major celebration. First off, it's hot as it comes, and second, there's hardly anything resembling fresh produce left in the market. Excitement about what to cook for dinner hits an all-year low. The entrance of mango at just such a time of year, combined with the fact that everything here is so confined to its season has gotten me thinking since I arrived: how can one save the bounty of different seasons for the rest of the year? Caleb and I put our heads together to come up with solution #1: a solar dehydrator. Ingenius and persevering one that he is, Caleb slapped this together and we were on our way.

Absentee Bloglord. Part Three: Anything and everything you could desire to know about what I do in agriculture, not including my work at the college - ha!

RAINS, DIGGING IN GARDENS, AND PLANTING.

Installment One: March

Towards the end of dry season (March), you wonder that anything could be different. The ground is hard as rock, baked into granite by the never-ending sun. All manner of vegetation is dead and desiccated. A few trees sport their green leaves for the long haul, but others stand bare, either having dropped their clothes, or having had them eaten off by Lulu caterpillars, grasshoppers, or some other ravenous thing. Shades of bleached brown, red, and yellow stretch out as far as the eye can see - and owing to the lack of vegetation, that's a long way.

Absentee Bloglord. Part Two: Team Fun

Following a month and a half of home-stay with Margaret's family during dry season, I moved back home to the team compound.  And here's a little snipet on some of the joys to be found therein.

Absentee Bloglord. Part 1: Changing Seasons

Visiting Lui's yet dry resevoir before the rains

So there are absentee landlords ... and there are absentee bloglords. Yep, that's me. I haven't been in the blog world for a while. But I hope to be back for a bit. With some stories from my travels in the real world. Do forgive my long absence. Sometimes there's a lot happening. And not much time to write about it. But here are a few glimpses from the last few months, and a handful of thoughts to go with them.

Join Me For Life at Margaret's

Meet Christina. That's her church name. At home and among her friends she goes by Koba. I share a hut with her. Older, and never having had children of her own, she lives here with her one remaining brother (of an original 10). Hard working, she doesn't complain when she gets up and down and her rheumatism twinges something awful. She's no-nonsense. Direct. And would probably strike you as rather brash at first glance. We first met on a bench outside of church. I was talking with a bunch of ladies, and she was sitting next to me. She kept grabbing at my arm to get my attention, telling me that I was going to teach her English, and animatedly engaging me in conversation. At other times, that could have bothered me, but in her case, something about her matter-of-fact way hinted at a beguiling mix of soft-hearted sincerity and honorable fighting spirit just below the surface. And I've loved her ever since.

Peeks Into Past and Present: Seasons

I love my house. My little hobbit hole. Nestled in the gardens of the Shire.  ha ha With the end of October, the rains left us. For a month the land gave it its best shot . . . and then gave in resignedly to dry season. Crazy the difference of a little water makes to the landscape. Here's the same house, just a couple months later. And it'd probably be even more dead were I not to water a few little prizes round the house. . .

Peeks into Past and Present: Drip Tape Gardening

November 15th, 2011 saw the debut of the bucket drip-tape system. I'd been wanting to try it out for some time. Part of my role in assisting with agriculture here is trying out new things to see if they'll be useful and/or sustainable for families in S. Sudan. Dry season (6 or more months of no rain and searing sunshine) puts a bit of a damper on eating in a place where refrigerators, freezers, and processed and canned goods are practically unheard of, or out of the average person's financial reach (saving for tomato paste, perhaps).

Reprieve

6pm.  The sun slips away from the scrub of papery straw and dust beyond my window.  Gentle.  Quiet.  A bird or two twittering in the bare tree just to my left.  Empty.  But not lonely.  I breathe out a dry swill of content.