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.

Pray Please! Home-Stay #2

Dear Friends,

It's hotter than hot. And my brain feels like melted butter and scrambled eggs all at once. At noon I dropped my entire team off at the air-strip, sending everyone off with multiple bear hugs and kisses as they left for a bit of work and a bit of play in Uganda. And I drove home to an empty compound. Weird! I felt a true pang in my heart of hearts to send them all away like that. Standing alone on the road and waving as their dear little faces disappeared from sight. It was a sweet sadness - one that tells me these are my specials, my people, and I really, really love them.

That done, I am switching gears again majorly and will shortly bike off to Miri-Kalanga and Margaret's house. Two heads shorter than me and with enough hugs and smiles and genuine love to more than take the edge off the loss of my team, she is a member of the church I've been attending for the past two years, and part of the Mother's Union there. I'll stay with her at least for the next two weeks - but hope to hop between her house and another lady's for the next month and a half or so (if I can stand the heat).

I covet your prayers for me:

1. For grace in getting to know everyone, loving them well, finding our stride together, and fielding the awkwardness that's bound to hit at times!

2. For great gains in learning more language and culture (these folks don't speak a lick of English, so there's great potential for real improvement.)

3. For true help with the heat. I'm not just joking or complaining when I tell you it's hot. It is getting past 100 every day. Some nights are not cooling off any longer. And by noon everyone is wilted and cranky. On top of that, I'll be surrounded by people all the time, not in my own place, and I've had some struggles with heat rash (which by the way, is HORRIBLE). So, I need God's intervention - to keep my brain sharp, my heart soft and willing and patient, and my body able to deal with the heat (since I won't have the usual access to an ice cube, shower, mango slushy, or the privacy of my own room when I'm just DONE.)

4. Fun. Deepening relationships. Heart to heart communication. Creative ideas to engage people. Strength to move towards people. There is nothing more dear to me in life than going deep with people and truly feeling connected with bonds of love. What better thing could I share with people than myself and my God? It's what I've come here for. Please pray that I will be a huge blessing to this family and all their neighbors, and that they in turn will be the same for me - so all of us can grow and be encouraged and inspired by the goodness of our God.

THANK YOU!  So much love to all of you - even the ones who haven't had a personal email from me in months. Please know you are on my mind and in my heart, even though I'm not able to stay in touch better.

Larissa

Fine Dining with the Fam

Staying with Mama Viviana and her family has been an exercise not only in language and social custom, but also in the culinary arts - such as the refined skill of commanding the charcoal cookstove. Lest you scoff at the assertion and suggest that any old person can use charcoal to cook - I challenge you to cook an entire meal (and I don't mean hot dogs) from scratch; lighting your own charcoal from the embers of the last fire; using no measuring cups or spoons; getting the rice perfectly done (and not burnt); making sure you didn't use too much charcoal; using as your utensils a knife, a ndeṛi (wooden stirring stick), and a small metal sppon; and not burning your fingers in the process. It's more difficult than it seems.  I assure you.

Braiding, Bullets, Gnuts, and Pumpkins

Meet Äpi.  Son of Kenyata.  Grandson of Mama Viviana. This week as we were back in Viviana's garden picking the balance of her ground nuts, he informed us that he was going to marry Christine (my roommate who had come to take our photos last time we were in the garden.) "But where's your house, and your job?" the other women asked. "I'm going to school," he replied, satisfied that he was on the right track. ha!

Life. Moru Style.

Viviana with the traditional three stone fire, preparing to make lunch

It has dawned another scorcher.  Yesterday we looked at the thermometer.  That was a bit of a head-scratcher. All of us were drifting downward like wilting balloons giving in to gravitational pull . . . and it was telling us it was only in the upper 70s. That was when I realized that the glue that held the thermometer in place had long since melted, and it had dropped down a centimeter or so...putting us in the 70s instead of in the 90s where we belonged.