A short Christmas drama...

Here is Tendai shining like a Christmas angel under the tree.

Here is Tendai deciding that sitting like an angel is for the birds, and she would rather knock over a bottle of wine whilst Auntie Keren is fiddling with the settings on her camera.

Here is Auntie Keren frantically trying to clean up the wine puddle before it stains the tiles.

Tendai got a present anyways, though. She is just too cute.



The end.

Merry Christmas...

From my tent...

...to yours.

But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord."

Luke 2:10-11

Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat upon them nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

Revelation 7:16-17

PS- Hey, Stuka. Did you see the star?

And then Tuesday was a little nuts...

I was talking the other day with one of the missionaries here who also keeps up a blog. I was saying that sometimes I am unsure about what to post. I like talking about all the good moments, and there are very, very many good moments. But there are very bad moments too. Sometimes I don't want to write about those moments because I don't want to sound overdramatic or sensational. The truth is, however, that life can be very, very harsh and hard and unfair for people in Mozambique.


Anyways, as I said, I was talking with one of the other missionaries about what to post, and she said that she tries to keep a balance between good and bad. That sounded like good advice.

So, here is a post about frustrating and funny.


Quite often people wait until they are almost beyond help before coming to the clinic or sending out a mayday. By the time we see them it can be too late. It is extremely frustrating. Other times people come to the clinic, get treated once, then go home and get sicker, but don't come back to the clinic. And then sometimes they die. Just today Lynn and I went to see a woman who was complaining of stomach problems. She is seriously, seriously ill and suffering terribly. Back in Canada she would be an emergent case, but here things are different. She is afraid that she will die if she goes to the hospital (people around here call the hospital "the departure lounge" which gives you an insight to how things run sometimes). Lynn and I are doing what we can, but it really will be a miracle if she recovers well.


A lot of people just don't understand how to care for a sick person, or what the signs are that someone is seriously ill and needs help immediately. Two kids, one about 12 years old and the other a two-weeks old baby, have died in our area in the past two months because they got too little help too late. In both cases the situation sounded pretty innocent, but turned out to be critical. In the case of the baby I was told on a Friday that the child was "a little thin". I was going to see the baby on the Monday to help the mom with breastfeeding, but on Monday morning I was told the baby had died on the weekend. I was shocked, until I found out that the baby who was a "little thin" had actually lost 60% of their birth weight in their two weeks of life.


Anyways, all this has made me a little paranoid. Now, when I listen to prayer requests from the staff at morning devotions I am always thinking, "Okay...he said his child was sick and had a headache. What could that mean? How sick? How long? It is malaria? Is the child conscious? Can they eat and drink? Have they gone to the clinic?"


On Tuesday one of the workers asked for prayer. His brother's child was in the hospital and needed a blood transfusion. My paranoia kicked in. Blood? Why? How sick? Did he get the blood?

You see, if someone in Canada needs a blood transfusion, they get one. Right away. Here in Mozambique, things work a little differently. We're a little short on something called a blood bank. If you need blood you had better hope that there is a willing volunteer.


I happen to be blessed with extremely user-friendly type O blood, which means that almost anyone can enjoy my nutritious, plentiful blood in times of need. I asked a few questions, and found out that the little guy had not received blood, as there was no one to donate to him, so I decided to go in and donate. The hospital is only about 1/2 an hour away and also, well, mostly, I don't want people to die. Y'know?


And, like I said, I got plenty on tap.


Donating blood in Africa. It was something else.


It turned out to be kind of funny.

First things first, ensure that I don't have HIV. Here is my test. I don't have it. But it was still nervewracking. I kept thinking about how much my life would change if I found out I did have HIV.

Ouch. That is a big needle you so confidently jammed into my arm.

Tendai watches intrigued. This is understandable, because she is going to be a doctor one day...after she graduates from Julliard...on an athletic scholorship.

Tendai takes advantage of my weakened state to try and steal my hat.

They took half a litre in less than five minutes. Basically, the blood bag sat on one chair and I sat on a higher chair. Gravity then did it's job and suctioned my blood out at an alarming rate.

Did I mention it was a big needle? I could have used this sucker on our cow. No wonder my blood poured out of me like a fountain. Very efficient, though.

The highlight was when a nurse came into the lab and asked if I was sick. "No," I said. My Portuguese is pretty bad so all I could tell him was, "A child wants my blood." He looked at me as if I were deranged, and when I put myself into his shoes, it would sound pretty creepy.

And then last Thursday...

This is Magnum's cute face. He lives here on the farm with Rick and Heather.

This is Magnum's not so cute face when he gets stung by some mysterious insect and inflates rather dramatically, so that Lynn and I are paged (via Facebook) while we are making pizzas at her house to come to Magnum's house stat before he puffs up past the point of no return.

It took us a while because...what drugs do you give a dog? We had to look it up. And then we had to find the medication which took some time because we both have very bad eyesight and the printing on those medication vials is so small.

Ever wonder how much Benadryl you can inject into a dog? Just ask me. Magnum also got a needle from Lynn full of steriods and now he has an epipen, just in case. I have never heard of a dog with an epipen, but here one is, deep in the wilds of Mozambique.

Then Lynn and I want back to her house, pushed the injectable drugs to the side, and kept making pizzas. And then we laughed a little at how funny it is nursing in the bush. It's all very exciting.

So then on Friday...

Since I arrived in Mozambique the government has changed their visa regulations. This came as a bit of a surprise, as I was all set to apply for another visa here in Mozambique, only to find out that I had to leave the country.

How convenient that Zimbabwe is only about an hour and a half away.

Here is Matthew. Matthew is the farm adminstrator, but on Friday he got the job of taking me to Zimbabwe and back. Matthew spend quite a bit of his childhood in Zimbabwe, so I think he was a little bit excited about the trip.

I only have one picture from the border crossing (as you are not allowed to take pictures) but going into Zimbabwe was quite the adventure. First we went through customs on the Mozambique side. The customs agents stamped about 52 papers, wanted all possible information about about van including the serial number on the engine (...uh?), charged Matthew a tax for leaving his own country, and off we went. But only for a few meters before we were stopped and sent back to the customs office to provide more information about the van.

Eventually, we were on our way and drove through the no man's land between the two borders. Then we had to go through Zimbabwe customs. Once again, 52 papers were stamped, an entire precious page of my passport became home to one giant visa (granting me one day in Zim at the low, low cost of $75 USD) and all possible information about our van was recorded. We were also charged a carbon tax of $25 USD.

So, up we drove to the gate into Zim, where we were informed by a border guard with a gleam in his eye that we would have to purchase special car insurance for our time in Zimbabwe. This insurance was $120 USD. I choked. Also, the insurance building was back where we had come from, but we couldn't turn around because the traffice was lined up behind us. So, the border guard told me to give him my passport and my car information, drive through the border, and then walk back to the insurance office. I handed him my passport and jumped out to follow him...only to be stopped by the border guards. I couldn't come through! I didn't have a passport! Crazy white girl. They let Matthew go back through. So...I roamed around passportless in Zimbabwe hoping that Matthew would re-emerge and trying not to think about that movie where that guy gets stuck in the airport for years

.

Anyways, Matthew did come back with everything in order and we carried on our merry way.

Truth be told, in spite of the expensive border crossing, I quite enjoyed Zimbabwe. The border town was very quaint and delightful in spots and Matthew and I did our Christmas shopping.

And the mountains around the town were really green and beautiful.

This is coming home, back into Mozambique. Like I said, you aren't supposed to take pictures at the border but I just took this one. This was kind of a ridiculous thing for me to do, but I let my annoyance get the best of me and this was my small, pathetic act of rebellion. (This is all very embarrassing). I'm pretty sure at this point we were being hassled for more car information or something or being charged for who knows what. And why does the visa have to be so big! In the new year I am going to start writing African heads of state to suggest the manufacturing of new, SMALLER visa stickers. A passport only has so many pages, y'know?

Here, Matthew and I are happy to be done with border crossings and back home in Friendly Mozambique.

Hopefully the visas will continue so that I can stay!

One week...

Last week was very eventful. I usually spend the greater part of every day at my computer writing parts of the health manual or school curriculum. But, goodness gracious, this last week there were a few other things on the roster.

Sunday: Sick cow gets a big needle. I think I already mentioned this.

(Evidence of my foray into vetrinary medicine.)

Monday: Christmas party for orphans and widows in our sponsorship program. My heart overflowed with goodwill and gladness. Fabulous. It was fabulous.

(Joao helps out one of the littlest participants in the gunney sack race)

Tuesday: I get a big needle.

Wednesday:...what happened on Wednesday? Anyone? I think I went to a meeting or something.

Thursday: Sick dog gets two big needles and, on an unrelated note, we make pizza.

Friday: I have to go to Zimbabwe and back. Quite expensive and passport consuming. And hot. Have I mentioned that it is hot here this time of year?

(My gigantic visa from Zimbabwe. Note my angst.)

Saturday: Made lots and lots of Christmas cookies with Mrs. Boss. Decorated tree belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Boss. Watched "A Christmas Carol" with the Boss clan and pesky fellow short-termers.

It was a good week, though. One of the best ever. Hopefully THIS week I will have time to tell you more about it.

A little sigh...

The General has been under the weather for a few weeks. It has been a bit of a bummer. Actually, I can't think about it. It's too sad.

Today I had to go into the clinic, though, so I decided to ride a bike.

Our driveway is a few kilometres long.

It is all uphill from the farm to the road.

One of the pedals fell off early in my journey.

I need to learn perserverance though, so I kept riding....really slowly.

I made it into town and there was quite the sensation. Kids started running out of houses and falling out of mango trees, all so that they could point at me and yell. I don't speak the local dialect, but I'm pretty sure they were saying, "WHITE GIRL ON A BICYCLE! WHITE GIRL ON A BICYCLE!"

And it was really hot today.

Get well soon, General. Please, get well soon.

Some Sundays...

A typical Sunday in Three Hills:

Wake up.

Open one eye.

Stumble into kitchen.

Make coffee.

Drink coffee.

Open other eye.

Shower.

Brush teeth.

Begin the day.

This Sunday in Mozambique:

Wake up .

Open one eye.

Stumble into kitchen.

Start making coffee.

The boss drives up- one of the cows is sick, he says. It needs a shot.

Get into truck. Attempt to open other eye. Still wearing pajamas.

Get needle for cow. Quite dirty. Try to clean needle. Photos are taken.

Discussion ensues about where to inject cow.

Wonder where our copy of "Where There Is No Vetrinarian" might be.

Collectively decide to inject cow in the bum.

Go to cow pen.

Spy a smallish sort of cow lying near the fence. Relief.

No, says the boss. Not that cow. It's one of the larger males. Relief dissapates.

Let cows out of pen. Try and corral sick cow into another pen. I am not very helpful. I feel the cow is eyeing me.

Get sick cow into chute.

Attempt to inject. Needle breaks. Cow skin turns out to be rather different than human skin.

Attempt to inject again. Success. Cow doesn't even say "Moo." Photos are taken.

Back to camp. Go to house of boss.

Put water on to boil in order to sterilize needle.

Put water on to boil for coffee.

Have coffee with boss and Mrs. Boss.

Remember that I am still unwashed and in my PJ's.

Start heading home.

Stop to visit with other friends.

They are trying to kill a mouse with a broom handle.

I sit on the couch and watch.

The kill is a gruesome success. Photos are taken.

I go home.

Shower.

Brush teeth.

Begin the day.

Games children play...

I thought you might like to see some pictures from the Vacation Bible School that was held at our mission school during the first two weeks of November. I am going to have to break it up into several posts, as I am afraid of losing everything if I try and add too many pictures to one post.

So, here is the first collection of photos. These pictures were all taken during game time, by the very talented Heather Neufeld. I am photographically impaired, so I am grateful for her skills and her willingness to share.

I just like this picture so much. It is just a shot taken during a relay race, but the look on my face says a lot to me. Sometimes I find it hard to express just how I feel about being here, about Africa, but this picture captures a bit of it. This is my place.

This is little Tito. He is one of the kids enrolled in the orphan program. Tito doesn't want to go to school yet, but we shall provide him with wise counsel as to the importance of higher education. Surely he will come 'round.

We played one game where the kids raced wearing these huge hats with a beanbag balanced on top. The little ones were so cute, especially, practically blinded by hat.

Sometimes the grown-ups had to participate, too. In this shot I am just trying to figure out how to avoid participating in the part of the relay where we we're supposed to drink a cup of juice from a communal bucket. Every feeling revolts! I faked it and then made sure I lost the race in order to satisfy my guilty conscience.

And this may be one of my favorite photos of all time.

Above and beyond...

In response to your requests for pictures of my new little home, here is my humble offering:

Here is my tent. You can see The General parked in the carport. You can also see a few of the darling little flower boxes that Amadeo, one of the farm staff, made around my tent. I asked him to plant a few vines by some trees and came home at the end of the day to six flower bloxes all around my tent. I have planted them full of flowers and am so excited for them to bloom.

Thanks, Amadeo! I think I am spelling your name wrong...sorry.

Here is where the magic happens. Mr. and Mrs. Perry, a wonderful and lovely couple who attend my church, helped me out a ton when I was getting ready to come to Mozambique. Seriously, it was actually a ton worth of help. They gave me all these do-dads that connect to a car battery. Lights, fans, an electical outlet. The light is so great, and the fans are necessary to survival.

Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Perry! You have blessed me immensely.

Here's a picture of my bed...and my tiny, life-giving fans...and my vintage motorcycle helmet...and the coverlet and throw cushion that I brought from Canada to make my tent feel cozy.

Here's the beginning of my shelving unit. Those bricks were seriously heavy, but I was seriously motivated to make a shelf, so it worked out great.



And here is my shelf in all it's glory! Gabriel, our carpenter, made me nice shelves out of lovely wood when all I asked for were a couple of planks.

Amadeo, the Perry's, Gabriel.

They really went above and beyond.

Thanks!

Hope you enjoyed the tour.

Yum...

The fruit in our lychee orchard is ripe and ready for harvest.

It is my first experience with fresh lychees.

They are a lovely color.

Their taste is delicious.

But if you eat them in bulk, they corode the inside of your mouth.

Worth it.

I'll be down in the orchard if you need me.

Waking up is hard to do...

I was snuggled in bed this morning, mentally calculating just how many more times I could hit my snooze button, when some intriguing noises outside my tent banished any lingering traces of drowsiness.

I peered through my window and saw not one, not three, but four baboons in front of my tent. Jumping into trees and running about. I tried to take a picture, but once I started moving around in my tent they headed for the hills.

They were probably taking turns pretending to ride on The General while I was off in dreamland, the little scamps.

Mailing address...

A number of people have asked about how to get mail to me here in Mozambique, so here is the info:

I can receive mail through a box in Nelspruit, South Africa. Here is the addy.

Keren Massey

c/o Dwight Lagore

Suite 531

Private Bag x11340

NelspruitSouth Africa, 1200

Send items via airmail. Regular mail may take an extraordinarily long time to get here, as in, I might be gone before it arrives..

This mail box probably won't be checked again until January/February, just so you know. If you are wanting to mail me things for Christmas, mail them now! That increases my chances of getting them early in the new year.

There is also a DHL about an hour from where I live, but from what I hear it costs an obscene amount to send things via DHL so please, unless you are mailing me a kidney for transplantation, don't use it. I am a very patient waiter. Christmas in February sounds fabulous to me!

My wish list reads as following:

Tea!

Tea!

Glorious tea!

Tea of every flavour!

Beef jerky?

Crayola pencil crayons

Anything else you can think of that can sit for a few months and not grow mold or a personality

Of course, there is always good oldfashioned e-mail as well. My address is:

keren.massey@hotmail.com

Thanks for the love, youz guyz.

What month is it, Mr. Wolf?

Today I bought a tiny, artificial Christmas tree at the grocery store. I am forcing myself not to set it up until December 1. I hear that you can also buy Christmas lights around here that are shaped like corn cobs. Wouldn't I have the snazziest tent around?

Here is a picture of my Christmas tree from last year. The ornaments were attached with dental floss and we had to nail it in place. Our house in Uganda was a little...grimy, and no amount of tape could make anything stick to the walls.

Hopefully all the Christmas decorations will help me remember that it is not July or August. I keep getting confused by the weather. It happens regularly and then I do embarrassing things like set off 4th of July sparklers or wax eloquent about how the leaves back in Canada will be starting to turn in a few weeks. Sometimes I have to carefully explain to people that I am book smart, not smart smart. There is an important difference.

They do exist...

I have this little problem. Actually, it's not so little- it's an exaggerated startle reflex. If something scares me I kind of flip out. I can't control it. It's almost like I have an out-of-body experience every time it happens. My reaction to being startled has, in the past, been compared to a cartoon character. You know, arms and legs flying everywhere, jumping eight feet off the ground, eyes bugging out, etc.

When I get startled I also let out a blood curdling scream. It usually sounds something like, "AHWHAKKAHAKKAHOEYHOEY!" It happens every time.

I have been startled a few times since I got to Mozambique, usually when I look down and something like a giant stick bug is clinging to my shirt and grinning up at me. I scream and it echoes all through the campsite, over the river and possibly into Zimbabwe. It's really embarrassing.

Bugs are just so sneaky. I have started a catch and release program for the bugs in my tent, but not all of them qualify.

The other night I was over at Rick and Heather's house and Heather told me that Glenn (another short-termer who really likes Spam and went home yesterday) was sitting in our kitchen when he was startled by a Black Mamba. I had to panic a little and scream, "AHWHAKKAHAKKAHOEYHOEY!" in my head. I crept around our kitchen on my tippy-toes for days.

Today I was walking back to my tent at lunch time. I heard a big "thwack" as something smacked onto the roof of my tent and fell to the ground. I saw a tail wiggle under my doormat. "That is either a very long skink," I thought to myself, "Or else...it's a...". I inched closer for a better look. Out from my doormat wriggled my first snake. A real snake. A real one. It was startling, but strangely enough, there were no screams. Perhaps I was frozen in terror.

Do you remember those old Christmas M&M commercials where the M&Ms see Santa and Santa see the M&Ms and they both say, "He does exist!" and then they pass out? That is how I feel. They do exist! Shoot. I ran over to Heather's and told her that I saw a tree snake (I think) by my tent. She reminded me that they are very poisonous but also very shy and have very small fangs way in the back of their mouths. It was very reassuring.

VBS is now over so I am settling into more of what I expect will be my actual routine. Here is a picture of my desk: a laptop; copies of Where Women Have No Doctor, A Book for Midwives, a Child-To-Child Resource Book; and a Lambchop puppet. That gives you a little glimpse into my life these days.



Tomorrow it will be one month since I left chilly Canada. There was one last thing I wanted to mention...what was it now...

Oh...yeah

Long exhale, short inhale...

(The General seeks shelter under a mango tree during a late afternoon rain.)

I wasn't feeling so well yesterday, or this morning for that matter.


I was all aches and fever and chills and more aches, and dreading this afternoon.

Part of my preparation for working on the women's health section of the preventative health manual has been meeting with small groups of local women to hear about their concepts of health and disease. A few weeks ago I made an appointment to spend this afternoon with the area's traditional birth attendants, an appointment that I had been looking forward to.

But I felt so gross.

I came home for lunch, demolished an entire carton of frozen juice (a Bush Slurpee, as I like to call it) and then found myself feeling quite well (medication may have also played a role). I jumped on The General and drove into town.

The traditional birth attendants were right on time and eager to talk, all shy smiles and sweet faces. They graciously answered my long list of questions about how they help women in Mucombeze bring their babies into the world.

I wish I would have had someone taking pictures. I think the women here are so beautiful. I love their colorful head coverings and the wild hodge podge of clothing that makes up their attire. The birth attendants looked wonderful sitting against a blue wall in their multicolored clothes with bright orange Fantas in their hands.

I was sitting on a simple brown chair, laptop on my knees, sporting one pair of the oversized earrings I bought on Etsy specifically for Mozambique.

The birth attendants kept expressing an eagerness for more training (well, training at all, they have never had any). And who should arrive midway during our conversation but Senor Da Cruz! This fellow is an adminstrator in the health district and I know him from past immunization campaigns. I had meant to get in touch with him to ask about training for the birth attendants, and...there he was! We chatted, he told me that their were trainings every three months in a city a few hours away and that the government paid for them. All we needed to do was write a letter or recommendation from the mission. This was exciting. I hope it's true.

The birth attendants were watching this little exchange, and after Da Cruz left we went back to our conversation. At the end of our time I asked the women if they would be interested in training and they responded with an enthusiatic yes. But...they could only go in April once they were done tending to their crops.

Fine, I said. In the mean time would you like to meet every few weeks and have classes here with me?
Tell us when to be here, they said, and we'll be here.

I'm so excited.

So, first order of business: get these women some gloves to wear during delivery! They don't have any protective equipment at all and could only tell me some very vague facts about HIV/AIDS. I think that will be one of the first lessons.

Second order of business: Have regular training sessons with the birth attendants.

Third order of business: Get these women off to school!

Or course, I need to run this by my superiors...and find out if these trainings actually exist.

Here's hoping.

After my afternoon with the birth attendants I went to the community leader's house and taught him how to use his new puffer. Oh, lands. It was so funny. It took a while but I think he got it.

In the meantime, a midafternoon rain storm blew in and The General sought shelter under a tree with the required crowd of small children crowding curiously around him. He is more popular than me, I think. Ah, well. You can't win them all.

A visitor...

Look who dropped1 by to help me with lunch the other day...

Me: Could you pass me the spatula, buddy?

Frog: Anything for you.

1 I know I should have said "hopped" instead of "dropped", but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

It's a hard knock life...

My internet is being a bit slow at the moment, so these are not all the photos I wanted to post. I scalped these three pictures from Rick and Heather (a couple who work here with SAM, along with their adorable foster daughter, Tendai). I will try and get the rest of them up later, but for now...

My first weekend here all the staff went to the Indian Ocean (close to Inhambwe, if you are into maps) for a few days. The place we stayed at was right on the water and there was an awesome reef running parrallel to our beach. The weather was perfect. I love the ocean.

This picture is a little misleading. I wanted to go snorkling out on the reef but didn't have a life jacket. I am a pretty terrible swimmer to I took this board out and floated on it with my head submerged in the water.

Heather and I spent a lot of time frolicking around in the ocean and letting big waves smack into us. So fun. Seriously.

All that frolicking was pretty tiring, however, so every now and then we had to take breaks. You can't see it really in this shot, but the sun was just starting to go down and the light was beautiful on the water. Oh, it was so lovely at the beach!

Recap

I bought my motorbike yesterday. It is purple and I call it The General. I spent a good portion of my day today riding around the farm, practicing switching gears. For my reward, I have a watch tan.

This morning I also went out on a home nursing visit to see an elderly woman who is part of the mission's orphan/widow program. She has been feeling not so hot, and has one nasty sounding lung. I also drove out to the mission's school to try and find a little boy who we hear has a serious abscess on his chin. No luck tracking him down, but his mom was around so we sent her home with some medication and careful instructions to bring her son to the health post next week.


So, my trip over. I will use photos to capture the magic:



Here I am, just arriving at the airport in Calgary, striking a pose for mom. You can tell if my mom is taking the picture because she always makes me place my feet just so. I'm so hopeful, so stress free...

Now, the suitcase on the bottom of my pile was being a tad problematic. When I weighed it the night before it was slightly overweight. When I tried to open it to remove some items, the zipper jammed. I decided to just pay the overweight fees because I wasn't sure what to cut. When I got to the airport I was informed that I was actually allowed to take THREE CHECKED ITEMS.

Three? Who has ever heard of that? So, weight was no longer the issue but I did need to wiggle some stuff out of the suitcase so that bag at least would be the right weight. The stuff I removed was going to go in a cute plaid plastic shopping bag-esque container the airline provided.

Here I am with my cousin Laura and the plaid bag. Although I can't actually open my suitcase to get anything out of it, we are optimistic that we will be able to drag enough stuff out of the bag using the little gap that is available before the zipper jam. Trying to claw my belongings out of the gap resulted in numerous scrapes, which resulted in drops of blood all over my stuff. What's a girl to do?

So, a few minutes into our endeavours my suitcase had a change of heart and the zipper came completely undone, undone in the sense that I would never be able to close it again. The zipper, and the bag, were toast.

Noting my predicament, the airline guy gave me two giant see through plastic sacks to shovel all my stuff into. I liked to think of it as a glorified Ziplock. That's right, all my stuff in a giant baggie, all set to jet across several continents. I was rather nervous about my stuff actually arriving, but, it did!

Who are the gentelmen behind us, you ask? Why, it's the entire team of Saskatchewan Roughriders. As Laura and I were madly trying to repack my stuff in the baggie, with fistfulls of underpants flying through the air in the middle of the chaos, these gentlemen quietly lined up behind me. So quietly that I didn't really notice their arrival until my baggie was packed and I became conscious of the fact that people had been watching my little episode. Ah well.

Okay, the rest of the trip, moving on.

London: neutral, I slept practically the entire time.

Jo-berg: walked around a corner and stumbled upon a woman having a seizure. First Aid hadn't arrived so I went to help, and a few minutes later a doctor came along. Later, I took an airport survey and was given a free key chain. There is so connection between the seizure and the key chain, I'm just trying to wrap this up.

Beira, Mozambique: I handed in my passport to get my visa and was given back a passport which was 1) burgandy in color, and 2) had a picture of a man in it. The customs guy asked, "Is this yours?" Had I known more Portuguese I would have said, "Are you kidding?" I had to wait a while but I did get my nice, navy blue passport back.

So, there you have it.

Arrived...

Hello, friends.

Today is a good day. I am wearing my favorite blue butterfly earrings and my feet are dusty and red. Perfect.

I am waiting to go to down to the woodshop to pick up a plank for the..."shelving unit"... I am making in my tent. My tent is the cutest. You can check it out on MTV Cribs next week.

I want to tell you all about my trip over but I will save that for another time. It will be an epic tale. Ziplock bags, professional athletes, a mistaken identity oh, I could go on! And I will. Tonight? Tomorrow? Some time.

Enough to say that I am here and safe and sound and taking the occasional deep breath.

Hope...

I leave for Mozambique tomorrow evening, so today has been full of last minute packing, shopping, general running about.

Today, as I sorted through stacks of this and that, I came across an article that I wrote for CIDA at the end of my internship in February. I remember exactly how I felt when I was writing it, and it is those same feelings that motivate me now.

"For five months, beginning in August of 2008, I worked in a water and sanitation project in rural western Uganda as part of a CIDA/Samaritan's Purse internship. One of the daily highlights was the natural beauty of the African bush. Everything looked like an illustration out of a Dr. Seuss book with the hills rolling crazily along, bursting with tress, shrubs and flowers of impossible variety. As we shuddered down rusty, rutted roads in our truck I would stare out the window, caught up in the stunning explosion of color.

In that marvelous medley of brilliance one tree stood out like a ghost, its sparse grey branches gnarled and bare. It looked completely lifeless, except for one thing. At the end of each deadened limb a vibrantly red flower bloomed--a burst of life against a backdrop of grey.

I was often reminded of an ancient proverb from the Bible, "Hope deferred, " it says, "makes the heart sick." Frustrated hope was all around me. Both personally and on a greater scale in the Ugandan people who hoped for almost everything: better health for their families, education for their children, peace in their homes, rain for their crops, food for their stomachs, and help from me which I often felt unable to give.

There were days when everything seemed to be painted in shades of grey. Our water program was truly making a difference, but it was easy to be overwhelmed by the many needs that were still unmet. In the midst of it all, however, I began to recognize splashes of the brightest, deepest, most perfect red. I loved those strange Ugandan trees because they made my heart ache with truth: hope always remains.

I heard hope in the trickling cadence of a filter that turned water from life threatening to life sustaining. I saw it when people living in absolute poverty coaxed beautiful flowers to grow around their simple mud and brick homes. I felt it in the generous hearts of my Ugandan community who found fulfillment and joy in relationships instead of possessions and who looked to the future with an expectation of good things to come.

I am leaving this internship with an overwhelming sense of optimism. We face massive and devastating problems as a global community, but I believe that we can work towards a better reality. There is enough good amongst us that we could make the world a better place if we earnestly chose to do so.

The rest of that ancient proverb declares that "a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." This experience has strengthened my vision to bring life into grey landscapes, watching hope bloom into reality, one brilliant red flower at a time."

Long time, no see...

So, what have I been up to for the last few months?

Well, lots of very ordinary, quite lovely, deliciously everyday things.

Mostly I have been working as a maternity nurse. I can't really take pictures at work, so here is a self portrait taken once I arrived home...after a stretch of night shifts. I actually love my job, and I can't say this photo really captures that emotion too well.

I was house sitting for a few months, too. It was wonderful. This was my tiny living room packed full of all my little treasures.

While I was house sitting I got to hang out with my super cute neighbor. Here he is helping me with the gardening.


It has been the best of times, truly.

There was one little dark cloud in my summer, if I am going to be truthful. You see, I was all ready to head off to grad school in September on the west coast.

I was rather excited. I even bought a new pair of galoshes for the rainy weather.

Then, my grad school of choice changed their mind about little me and I was left without any Plan B, at least as far as I could see. It was rough.

So, what am I up to now?

Well, instead of polishing my galoshes, I have been digging these out of storage:

These items may appear a little...vibrant, shall we say, for usage here is southern Alberta. I agree, which is why I only wear them when I am in Africa, which is where I am going in a few weeks.

I am going back to Mozambique as a short-term missionary with SAM Ministries. This is the same place I was when I was a student nurse.

I will be helping with preventative health care initiatives, along with other things.

I leave on Octber 17th, Lord willing.

I am rather excited.

I think it's going to be the best of times.