Watch this video and enter in to the place and the people that have captured my heart!
Water is Life from AIM On-Field Media on Vimeo.
Showing posts with label Kenya. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kenya. Show all posts
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Water is Life
My heart sometimes aches for Kenya, and especially for the Rendille and for Korr. Here is a video about the need in Northern Kenya. It is full of my friends, narrated by my pastor, and has an interview with Nick and Lynne, the missionaries I stayed with while I was in Kenya. It was so good to see their faces and hear Nick's voice.
Watch this video and enter in to the place and the people that have captured my heart!
Watch this video and enter in to the place and the people that have captured my heart!
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Watch it Weekends - Around Home
Here are a few videos I took of home in Korr... first a tour of my house (don't mind the nerdy Ikea excitement). Ah, home sweet home!
Nick and Lynne love their pets - by the time I left we had two cats and essentially four dogs (two didn't technically belong to us, but were always around and ate at our house), plus one who decided our house was a good place to hang out. This video was taken shortly after I arrived... Tigger, the big pup and Stompy (meaning Stumpy, note he has not tail) were HIALRIOUS to watch. Stompy is such a little bruiser and all Tigger wanted to do was play. There were times Tigger got Stompy's entire head in his mouth, and Stompy would grown and bark and throw a fit, and you'd think he was really ticked off with it all, but he'd run right back in and provoke Tigger for more. Who needs TV when you've got these two to watch and laugh at all day long??? (oh, and 'member the puppy who puked on my lap on the drive up to Korr? That was Tigger!)
And yes, I talked about all kinds of crazy bugs in my house. One in particular was really cool... I'd hear this CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! really loud and always wodnered what it was. Then one day I saw it - it's this crazy beetle that, when flipped over onto it's back, does some kinda crazy flick with it's super-hard body and flips himself back over again. I was poking at this guy for a good half hour, making him do all kinds of tricks. Nick told me later that week as we were talking about these crazy bugs that this dude's got a pretty potent stinger. Huh. Guess I should have thought about that when I went poking at strange African bugs, hey? Thankfully no stings for me!
Nick and Lynne love their pets - by the time I left we had two cats and essentially four dogs (two didn't technically belong to us, but were always around and ate at our house), plus one who decided our house was a good place to hang out. This video was taken shortly after I arrived... Tigger, the big pup and Stompy (meaning Stumpy, note he has not tail) were HIALRIOUS to watch. Stompy is such a little bruiser and all Tigger wanted to do was play. There were times Tigger got Stompy's entire head in his mouth, and Stompy would grown and bark and throw a fit, and you'd think he was really ticked off with it all, but he'd run right back in and provoke Tigger for more. Who needs TV when you've got these two to watch and laugh at all day long??? (oh, and 'member the puppy who puked on my lap on the drive up to Korr? That was Tigger!)
And yes, I talked about all kinds of crazy bugs in my house. One in particular was really cool... I'd hear this CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! really loud and always wodnered what it was. Then one day I saw it - it's this crazy beetle that, when flipped over onto it's back, does some kinda crazy flick with it's super-hard body and flips himself back over again. I was poking at this guy for a good half hour, making him do all kinds of tricks. Nick told me later that week as we were talking about these crazy bugs that this dude's got a pretty potent stinger. Huh. Guess I should have thought about that when I went poking at strange African bugs, hey? Thankfully no stings for me!
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Watch it Weekends - Turning Thirty
Two days after arriving in Korr, it was my birthday! There was a team of about 18 Canadian ladies who were in Korr visiting, too, so we wended up driving out to visit a literacy class and see a goob. I couldn't help but laugh at the contrast between my 29th and 30th birthdays!
There are ALWAYS tons of kids around, and we spent probably a good half hour or fourty-five minutes playing with them. I SO wish I had longer clips, and maybe less of them, but here's what I've got. They're no more than 10 seconds each, most are shorter. but it'll give you a good idea! :)
In the following video at the end, you can see that things were starting to get a little crazy... there were SO many kids YARDING on my arm. Hehehe... I'm trying to escape! :)
This one's my favourite! :)
In the evening, Lynne planned a surprise party for me! We had cake, they sang me happy birthday, and - SO sweet! - they even had gifts for me! It was wonderful! :)
Definitely a birthday to remember!!!
There are ALWAYS tons of kids around, and we spent probably a good half hour or fourty-five minutes playing with them. I SO wish I had longer clips, and maybe less of them, but here's what I've got. They're no more than 10 seconds each, most are shorter. but it'll give you a good idea! :)
In the following video at the end, you can see that things were starting to get a little crazy... there were SO many kids YARDING on my arm. Hehehe... I'm trying to escape! :)
This one's my favourite! :)
In the evening, Lynne planned a surprise party for me! We had cake, they sang me happy birthday, and - SO sweet! - they even had gifts for me! It was wonderful! :)
Definitely a birthday to remember!!!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Watch it Weekends - Animal Central!
While I was aiting to go to Korr in January, I did a lot of different things, sone if it a little bit of sightseeing around Nairobi. One day I went to the Sheldrick's Wildlife Trust - essentially an orphanage for baby elephants. SO cute. Seriously.
Then I went to the giraffe center. You walk up onto this platform and the rangers give you pellets to feed the giraffes with. The love to eat the pellets out of your hands or....
Then I went to the giraffe center. You walk up onto this platform and the rangers give you pellets to feed the giraffes with. The love to eat the pellets out of your hands or....
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Watch it Weekends - More Mitumba Kids
Three videos this weekend... why not?
The first is of Jaqueline - the amazing nursery school (pre-school) teacher - giving a lesson. That lady has SO much love for those kids, it's phenominal! In early January, which is the beginning of the school year for them, the kids are learning their letter sounds. This video is brought to you by the letter "N"
I went on a Saturday morning to help with the Bible Club. Turns out I RAN the Bible club that day. Good thing I know lots of camp songs that kept me going! We sang for a long time, then I pulled a lesson out of my hat and we did that, too!
King of Kings
Pharaoh Pharaoh
The first is of Jaqueline - the amazing nursery school (pre-school) teacher - giving a lesson. That lady has SO much love for those kids, it's phenominal! In early January, which is the beginning of the school year for them, the kids are learning their letter sounds. This video is brought to you by the letter "N"
I went on a Saturday morning to help with the Bible Club. Turns out I RAN the Bible club that day. Good thing I know lots of camp songs that kept me going! We sang for a long time, then I pulled a lesson out of my hat and we did that, too!
King of Kings
Pharaoh Pharaoh
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Watch it Weekends - Mitumba kids
Two posts today! Look at me go!
Loading video in Kenya wasn't possible. But oh hooray, I'm back to the land of high speed, and hoo-boy do I have some fun stuff to show you! So welcome to the first installment of "Watch It Weekends!" I'll post a video (or two?) each weekend so you can get a better taste of the sights and sounds of my trip. Here's the first one!
This is class four in Mitumba, the slum I spent a few days in in January. It was my first introduction to the fabulous world of African kids singing. I love it! I also love the kids dancing around for hte camera in the back row! Silly monkeys! :)
Hakuna Mungu kama wewe = There's no God but you
Loading video in Kenya wasn't possible. But oh hooray, I'm back to the land of high speed, and hoo-boy do I have some fun stuff to show you! So welcome to the first installment of "Watch It Weekends!" I'll post a video (or two?) each weekend so you can get a better taste of the sights and sounds of my trip. Here's the first one!
This is class four in Mitumba, the slum I spent a few days in in January. It was my first introduction to the fabulous world of African kids singing. I love it! I also love the kids dancing around for hte camera in the back row! Silly monkeys! :)
Hakuna Mungu kama wewe = There's no God but you
Monday, August 24, 2009
The seed and the harvest
I saw this quote at the bottom of Andrea's blog tonight:
"Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant."
~ Robert Louis Stevenson
Reading that, it hit me – a “boom, bang crash, open-your-eyes, ah-ha moment” kind of hit me.
I wasn't a harvester.
So much of my trip to Korr was wonderful. Incredible. Amazing. Words can not describe. But there were some things that were really hard. Disappointing at times. Frustrating. Things that caused me to doubt my role, to doubt myself.
- Helping to clarify rules and expectations for teachers based on the needs I saw.
- Revamping (and sticking to) a much needed student discipline program.
- Living in the shadow of two previous short termers who made a HUGE influence and connected in a big way with these kids relationally – the kids talked abut them non-stop throughout my stay (good work, girls! You made SUCH an impact on these kids!).
- Meaning what I say and following though with discipline. It doesn’t always make for warm fuzzies in the classroom. Um, understatement of the century.
- Trying to teach by example what following through on discipline actually means, but often ending up looking like the strictest, most meanie-pants teacher in the school.
- Forever trying to correct a warped view of forgiveness that leaves no room for taking responsibility for behaviour. “Madam, why can’t you just forgive him? God tells us we should forgive others!” Argh! Yes! But God also tells us that our actions have consequences!
- Wanting so much to develop good relationships with the kids but having some kids so angry at me they wouldn’t speak to me for a week, and others who just don’t understand why I have to rock the boat and call kids out on misbehaviour. And then wondering how that all reconciles with the African high view of relationship – doing everything you can to NOT break the relationship.
- Feeling at times like a failure in relationships because of such a gap in what I was expecting and what actually God had for me to do.
And perhaps the hardest thing of all – DEFINITELY the most important - was trying to re-shape the kids’ view of what it takes to be saved. Over and over and over the kids would tell me that to be accepted by God they had to do lots and lots of good things. Noooo! Salvation is FREE! Grace costs US nothing because it cost Christ EVERYTHING! We are loved more than we could ever imagine simply because of who we ARE , not for what we do or don’t do! How I longed for that burden of "good works" to fall of their slumped and sagging shoulders!
I didn't see the harvest of so much of my work there. I may never see it. But I realized tonight that the harvest isn't really mine, anyway. The harvest is God's. He may use someone else to bring it in; He may bring it in Himself. But if I want everything I do to be ultimately for His glory, then I don't have to see the harvest. I just have to plant the seeds.
My eyes were opened to a new way of seeing some of those frustrations tonight.
Seeds of excellence in teaching. Seeds of responsibility for behaviour. Seeds of understanding when it comes to forgiveness and salvation. Seeds of faith. Seeds of truth.
Yeah. Sometimes planting those seeds was hard. It hurt. It wasn't always what I thought my job would be. But it was the job God had for me to do, and He sustained me. He gave me wisdom, He gave me strength. He gave me grace. And tonight He reminded me to trust. To trust Him that He gave me the work that needed to be done. To trust Him that he can take the broken work I did and make it good. To trust Him that He was working before I got there, while I was there, and will continue to keep working now that I'm gone. And to trust Him that one day there will be a harvest.
Thank you, Father, that your vision is so much bigger than mine, and that you are faithful, even when we don't get to see the result of our work. Thank you that You are the God of the harvest.
And thank you for the privilege of planting the seeds.
...
Wow. I stopped writing just before I hit publish to take a phone call, and when I did, I thought my post was finished. Before making it back to my computer, though, I got distracted by some cards my fabulously thoughtful and wonderful friend Sarah sent me for my trip. They didn't get to me in time to take them with me when I left, so I have the cards now at my house. I pulled one out of the pile to open. Here is what I read. Gee... you think God maybe knew I needed to read this tonight?????
Indeed, He will. Indeed, He has.
"Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant."
~ Robert Louis Stevenson
Reading that, it hit me – a “boom, bang crash, open-your-eyes, ah-ha moment” kind of hit me.
I wasn't a harvester.
So much of my trip to Korr was wonderful. Incredible. Amazing. Words can not describe. But there were some things that were really hard. Disappointing at times. Frustrating. Things that caused me to doubt my role, to doubt myself.
- Helping to clarify rules and expectations for teachers based on the needs I saw.
- Revamping (and sticking to) a much needed student discipline program.
- Living in the shadow of two previous short termers who made a HUGE influence and connected in a big way with these kids relationally – the kids talked abut them non-stop throughout my stay (good work, girls! You made SUCH an impact on these kids!).
- Meaning what I say and following though with discipline. It doesn’t always make for warm fuzzies in the classroom. Um, understatement of the century.
- Trying to teach by example what following through on discipline actually means, but often ending up looking like the strictest, most meanie-pants teacher in the school.
- Forever trying to correct a warped view of forgiveness that leaves no room for taking responsibility for behaviour. “Madam, why can’t you just forgive him? God tells us we should forgive others!” Argh! Yes! But God also tells us that our actions have consequences!
- Wanting so much to develop good relationships with the kids but having some kids so angry at me they wouldn’t speak to me for a week, and others who just don’t understand why I have to rock the boat and call kids out on misbehaviour. And then wondering how that all reconciles with the African high view of relationship – doing everything you can to NOT break the relationship.
- Feeling at times like a failure in relationships because of such a gap in what I was expecting and what actually God had for me to do.
And perhaps the hardest thing of all – DEFINITELY the most important - was trying to re-shape the kids’ view of what it takes to be saved. Over and over and over the kids would tell me that to be accepted by God they had to do lots and lots of good things. Noooo! Salvation is FREE! Grace costs US nothing because it cost Christ EVERYTHING! We are loved more than we could ever imagine simply because of who we ARE , not for what we do or don’t do! How I longed for that burden of "good works" to fall of their slumped and sagging shoulders!
I didn't see the harvest of so much of my work there. I may never see it. But I realized tonight that the harvest isn't really mine, anyway. The harvest is God's. He may use someone else to bring it in; He may bring it in Himself. But if I want everything I do to be ultimately for His glory, then I don't have to see the harvest. I just have to plant the seeds.
My eyes were opened to a new way of seeing some of those frustrations tonight.
Seeds of excellence in teaching. Seeds of responsibility for behaviour. Seeds of understanding when it comes to forgiveness and salvation. Seeds of faith. Seeds of truth.
Yeah. Sometimes planting those seeds was hard. It hurt. It wasn't always what I thought my job would be. But it was the job God had for me to do, and He sustained me. He gave me wisdom, He gave me strength. He gave me grace. And tonight He reminded me to trust. To trust Him that He gave me the work that needed to be done. To trust Him that he can take the broken work I did and make it good. To trust Him that He was working before I got there, while I was there, and will continue to keep working now that I'm gone. And to trust Him that one day there will be a harvest.
Thank you, Father, that your vision is so much bigger than mine, and that you are faithful, even when we don't get to see the result of our work. Thank you that You are the God of the harvest.
And thank you for the privilege of planting the seeds.
...
Wow. I stopped writing just before I hit publish to take a phone call, and when I did, I thought my post was finished. Before making it back to my computer, though, I got distracted by some cards my fabulously thoughtful and wonderful friend Sarah sent me for my trip. They didn't get to me in time to take them with me when I left, so I have the cards now at my house. I pulled one out of the pile to open. Here is what I read. Gee... you think God maybe knew I needed to read this tonight?????
Do It Anyway
By Roy Lessin
Others may not notice your efforts or give you recognition for something you've done. The credit may even go to someone else.
Do it anyway, as unto Me,
for I am pleased by your service and will honor your obedience.
There may be times when a job you've done will be rejected. Something you have prepared may be canceled or delayed.
Do it anyway, as unto Me,
for I see all things and will bless the work of your hands.
You may do your very best, and yet fail. You may sacrifice time and money to help someone and receive no word of thanks.
Do it anyway, as unto Me,
for I am your reward and will repay you.
There may be times when you go out of your way to include others and later have them ignore you. You may be loyal on your job, and yet someone else is promoted ahead of you.
Do it anyway, as unto Me,
for I will not fail you or make you be ashamed.
You may forgive others, only to have them hurt you again. You may reach out in kindness, only to have someone use you.
Do it anyway, as unto Me,
for I know your heart and will comfort you.
You may speak the truth but be considered wrong by others. You may do something with good intentions and be completely misunderstood.
Do it anyway, as unto Me,
for I understand and will not disappoint you.
There may be times when keeping your word means giving up something you want to do. There may be times when commitment means sacrificing personal pleasure.
Do it anyway, as unto Me,
for I am your Friend, and will bless you with My Presence.
Indeed, He will. Indeed, He has.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Safari Diaries
Three parks, six days, and LOTS and LOTS of animals. Here are but a few of the highlights.
Saturday, 3pm: Why on earth is the road to the Masai Mara - the most visited place in Kenya – worse than the roads on the way up to Korr? Bump, bump, rattle, rattle, I sure hope this car stays in one piece!
Saturday, 5pm: Giraffe! A whole herd! It’s our first big sighting and we’re not even in the park yet!
Saturday, 10pm: I’m FREEZING – have been cold all day, but now I’m REALLY cold. Desert girl returns to the real world. I’m grateful for two really have blankets in our tented camp, even if the mattress on the floor is pretty much useless.
Sunday, 9am: We've entered the Mara and are driving past herds and herds and herds of impala, zebra, buffalo, and wildebeest.
Sunday, 11:45am: Our fist big sighting of the day – four lionesses enjoying a fresh zebra!
Sunday, 2pm: Watching hippos fighting in the Mara river, and was just told by armed escort to move back from the edge of the river – you never know where the crocodiles are.
Sunday, 2:45pm: I’m surrounded by cheeky monkeys who are trying their best to steal my lunch. One just dropped from the tree above me and landed a foot away from my sandwich!
Monday, 7:15am: We just found a pregnant hyena in her den, and watched her chase off the jackal who was trying to steal her meat.
Monday, 7:45am: We were following a lone bull elephant who apparently wanted to stay lonely – we were just ahead of him when he trumpeted and started charging our car. Good thing our driver’s quick on the acceleration pedal!
Monday, 10am: We’re back on that horrible road from the Mara and are heading to Nakuru.
Monday, 5:30pm: Our safari group was wandering around Nakuru looking for ice cream, only to find an ice cream cart had been following us for the last few blocks! Yummy treats for everyone! I might have had two, but I’m not sure!
Tuesday, 9:15am: I've never seen so many pink flamingoes in my life! The whole of Lake Nakuru is surrounded by a ribbon of pink.
Tuesday, 10am: We’re watching a big troupe of baboons playing in the forest. The babies are so funny looking! One sits on the road beside our car and screeches at us.
Tuesday, 10:20am: We’ve just spotted a rare tree-climbing lion. We watch her amble through the grass and up a tree, settling in for a morning nap.
Tuesday, 12:30pm: We’re now nose-to-nose with a white rhino. It reminds us all of some kind of prehistoric monster!
Tuesday, 3:15pm: I just left the safari group and am on my own now. I’m in a rural matatu (14 person bus) and finally on the way to Nyeri after waiting nearly an hour and a half for it to fill up (could be worse!). They don’t leave unless they’re full, so I got to spend my time warding off hawkers trying to sell me everything under the sun through the window. Wallets? Power adapters? Soda and sweets? Hair clips? An escort to Nyeri? No live chickens in the matutu, though… I’m kinda disappointed!
Wednesday, 9am: I’m sitting in a deck chair on the patio at the beautiful Aberdare Country Club, sipping complimentary coffee, listening to music, watching warthogs graze on the slopes below me, and very much enjoying my 24 hours of luxury!
Wednesday, 10:30am: I hear a familiar cry and think back to walks through Stanley Park – peacocks!
Wednesday, 11:00am: On a guided safari walk, I’ve just spotted an eland, the largest and one of the shyest antelopes, and am now walking through a herd of ten giraffes!
Wednesday, 3:30pm: I’m now boarding the Ark, a hotel deep in the Aberdare forest that’s built to resemble Noah’s Ark. It overlooks a waterhole and salt lick, and the staff ring a buzzer to wake you up throughout the night when interesting things come to the water hole.
Wednesday, 4:00pm: Just in time for our arrival, a whole family of elephants arrived at the waterhole, joining the few buffalo.
Wednesday, all evening long: I’m riveted by the elephants – blowing dust over their bodies, playing with each other, baby elephants bullying the buffalo… I take a quick break to watch the birds being fed on the “gangplank” but am glued to the waterhole most of the night.
Wednesday, 10:15pm: Two bull elephants have been fighting off and on since we got here. One just charged the other with a loud trumpet and knocked the other down. And I’m watching from about fourty feet away!
Thursday, 12:15am: Four hyenas are trying to take down a buffalo on the far side of the water hole. A giant forest hog is grazing just below me, and I can hear him munching away.
Thursday, 12:25am: The hyenas seem to have given up. Lucky buffalo. He’s meandered over to the window and seems content to just stare at us.
Thursday, 1:45am: I’m heading to bed. I’m sure they’ll ring if anything else happens.
Thursday, 7am: Breakfast time! Nothing else through the night. Morning in the Aberdares is misty and cool. Just a few antelopes linger in the mist by the waterhole as the morning sun begins to burn away the fog.
Thusday, 9am: We’re back at the country club and on our way to Nairobi. We saw a few more elephants on the way out, but the leopard has managed to elude me again. It’s the only thing I think I haven’t seen. I’ve been adopted by a group of 15 British Scouts who I think felt sorry for me when they saw I was on my own. They’ve offered me a free ride back to Nairobi with them on their bus. Score!
Thursday, 12:30pm: I’ve arrived back at Mayfield. The only wildlife I’ll see now are the matatu drivers!
For more photos, go to my flickr page or to my album on facebook (coming soon)!
Saturday, 3pm: Why on earth is the road to the Masai Mara - the most visited place in Kenya – worse than the roads on the way up to Korr? Bump, bump, rattle, rattle, I sure hope this car stays in one piece!
Saturday, 5pm: Giraffe! A whole herd! It’s our first big sighting and we’re not even in the park yet!
Saturday, 10pm: I’m FREEZING – have been cold all day, but now I’m REALLY cold. Desert girl returns to the real world. I’m grateful for two really have blankets in our tented camp, even if the mattress on the floor is pretty much useless.
Sunday, 9am: We've entered the Mara and are driving past herds and herds and herds of impala, zebra, buffalo, and wildebeest.
Sunday, 11:45am: Our fist big sighting of the day – four lionesses enjoying a fresh zebra!
Sunday, 2pm: Watching hippos fighting in the Mara river, and was just told by armed escort to move back from the edge of the river – you never know where the crocodiles are.
Sunday, 2:45pm: I’m surrounded by cheeky monkeys who are trying their best to steal my lunch. One just dropped from the tree above me and landed a foot away from my sandwich!
Monday, 7:15am: We just found a pregnant hyena in her den, and watched her chase off the jackal who was trying to steal her meat.
Monday, 7:45am: We were following a lone bull elephant who apparently wanted to stay lonely – we were just ahead of him when he trumpeted and started charging our car. Good thing our driver’s quick on the acceleration pedal!
Monday, 10am: We’re back on that horrible road from the Mara and are heading to Nakuru.
Monday, 5:30pm: Our safari group was wandering around Nakuru looking for ice cream, only to find an ice cream cart had been following us for the last few blocks! Yummy treats for everyone! I might have had two, but I’m not sure!
Tuesday, 9:15am: I've never seen so many pink flamingoes in my life! The whole of Lake Nakuru is surrounded by a ribbon of pink.
Tuesday, 10am: We’re watching a big troupe of baboons playing in the forest. The babies are so funny looking! One sits on the road beside our car and screeches at us.
Tuesday, 10:20am: We’ve just spotted a rare tree-climbing lion. We watch her amble through the grass and up a tree, settling in for a morning nap.
Tuesday, 12:30pm: We’re now nose-to-nose with a white rhino. It reminds us all of some kind of prehistoric monster!
Tuesday, 3:15pm: I just left the safari group and am on my own now. I’m in a rural matatu (14 person bus) and finally on the way to Nyeri after waiting nearly an hour and a half for it to fill up (could be worse!). They don’t leave unless they’re full, so I got to spend my time warding off hawkers trying to sell me everything under the sun through the window. Wallets? Power adapters? Soda and sweets? Hair clips? An escort to Nyeri? No live chickens in the matutu, though… I’m kinda disappointed!
Wednesday, 9am: I’m sitting in a deck chair on the patio at the beautiful Aberdare Country Club, sipping complimentary coffee, listening to music, watching warthogs graze on the slopes below me, and very much enjoying my 24 hours of luxury!
Wednesday, 10:30am: I hear a familiar cry and think back to walks through Stanley Park – peacocks!
Wednesday, 11:00am: On a guided safari walk, I’ve just spotted an eland, the largest and one of the shyest antelopes, and am now walking through a herd of ten giraffes!
Wednesday, 3:30pm: I’m now boarding the Ark, a hotel deep in the Aberdare forest that’s built to resemble Noah’s Ark. It overlooks a waterhole and salt lick, and the staff ring a buzzer to wake you up throughout the night when interesting things come to the water hole.
Wednesday, 4:00pm: Just in time for our arrival, a whole family of elephants arrived at the waterhole, joining the few buffalo.
Wednesday, all evening long: I’m riveted by the elephants – blowing dust over their bodies, playing with each other, baby elephants bullying the buffalo… I take a quick break to watch the birds being fed on the “gangplank” but am glued to the waterhole most of the night.
Wednesday, 10:15pm: Two bull elephants have been fighting off and on since we got here. One just charged the other with a loud trumpet and knocked the other down. And I’m watching from about fourty feet away!
Thursday, 12:15am: Four hyenas are trying to take down a buffalo on the far side of the water hole. A giant forest hog is grazing just below me, and I can hear him munching away.
Thursday, 12:25am: The hyenas seem to have given up. Lucky buffalo. He’s meandered over to the window and seems content to just stare at us.
Thursday, 1:45am: I’m heading to bed. I’m sure they’ll ring if anything else happens.
Thursday, 7am: Breakfast time! Nothing else through the night. Morning in the Aberdares is misty and cool. Just a few antelopes linger in the mist by the waterhole as the morning sun begins to burn away the fog.
Thusday, 9am: We’re back at the country club and on our way to Nairobi. We saw a few more elephants on the way out, but the leopard has managed to elude me again. It’s the only thing I think I haven’t seen. I’ve been adopted by a group of 15 British Scouts who I think felt sorry for me when they saw I was on my own. They’ve offered me a free ride back to Nairobi with them on their bus. Score!
Thursday, 12:30pm: I’ve arrived back at Mayfield. The only wildlife I’ll see now are the matatu drivers!
For more photos, go to my flickr page or to my album on facebook (coming soon)!
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Goobi waakh ka icho arga...
The “dark nights” in Korr are just that. For about half the month, the moon rises so late (or rather, so early in the morning) that none of its light illuminates the darkness. It is DARK - so much more than many of us have ever experienced. Your torch barely pierces a hole in the night big enough for you to see your next three steps. It is so incredibly pitch black, but for the millions of stars visible above you.
The “light nights,” in contrast, are so welcome, where there are no street lamps or even light from people’s houses after dark. During the light nights, you see your own shadow almost as clearly as you would on a blazing desert afternoon.
I watched the full moon rise tonight. It was huge and nearly orange as it rose over the hill – a beautiful sight for my last night in the desert.
What’s that? My LAST NIGHT?!?!
My departure came rather suddenly – in one sense because I can’t believe that time has gone so fast, but also in another, more tangible way. My flight bookings have been all over the place, and as I got mentally ready to leave on August 7th, it then, due to a plane crash with AIM Air and all AIM planes being grounded, it got extended to the 11th. For about a day, I really felt desperate to go down to Nairobi – I’d said my goodbyes, there wasn’t a lot left to do. But then I had accepted that and had started to make a few plans, grateful for a few extra days. Then today at lunchtime, I got an email saying that a plane coming from elsewhere in the north is able to make a diversion to pick me up, so, indeed, I would be leaving tomorrow. And just like that, my time remaining in Korr went from five days to less than twenty-four hours.
I’ve felt all day long like I’ve been punched in the gut. I feel totally unprepared to leave again, and I don’t even know how to process everything that is happening so fast. I still feel like in a week or two, I’ll be boarding another plane to come back here.
Except that I won’t. I’ll be boarding a plane, yes, but that plane will be taking me back to Canada – to my family, to my friends, to my own culture, my own language, my own culture. I’m happy to go, yes, but I’m leaving behind people and a place I may never see again, and that makes the departure bittersweet.
Anihi soonokhdi magardi, lakini chirri an Korr ka ‘doo‘d Rendille iargin, Goobi Waakh ka icho arga. (I don’t know if I will return, but if I don’t see the Rendille in Korr, I will see them in heaven.)
Until then, when I see the full moon rise, I will think about the “light nights” in Korr, and continue to pray for the Rendille, and for Nick and Lynne, Jim and Laura, Grant and Loki, and all the Rendille believers. It is they who, even on the darkest of nights, carry a light capable of piercing the darkness.
The “light nights,” in contrast, are so welcome, where there are no street lamps or even light from people’s houses after dark. During the light nights, you see your own shadow almost as clearly as you would on a blazing desert afternoon.
I watched the full moon rise tonight. It was huge and nearly orange as it rose over the hill – a beautiful sight for my last night in the desert.
What’s that? My LAST NIGHT?!?!
My departure came rather suddenly – in one sense because I can’t believe that time has gone so fast, but also in another, more tangible way. My flight bookings have been all over the place, and as I got mentally ready to leave on August 7th, it then, due to a plane crash with AIM Air and all AIM planes being grounded, it got extended to the 11th. For about a day, I really felt desperate to go down to Nairobi – I’d said my goodbyes, there wasn’t a lot left to do. But then I had accepted that and had started to make a few plans, grateful for a few extra days. Then today at lunchtime, I got an email saying that a plane coming from elsewhere in the north is able to make a diversion to pick me up, so, indeed, I would be leaving tomorrow. And just like that, my time remaining in Korr went from five days to less than twenty-four hours.
I’ve felt all day long like I’ve been punched in the gut. I feel totally unprepared to leave again, and I don’t even know how to process everything that is happening so fast. I still feel like in a week or two, I’ll be boarding another plane to come back here.
Except that I won’t. I’ll be boarding a plane, yes, but that plane will be taking me back to Canada – to my family, to my friends, to my own culture, my own language, my own culture. I’m happy to go, yes, but I’m leaving behind people and a place I may never see again, and that makes the departure bittersweet.
Anihi soonokhdi magardi, lakini chirri an Korr ka ‘doo‘d Rendille iargin, Goobi Waakh ka icho arga. (I don’t know if I will return, but if I don’t see the Rendille in Korr, I will see them in heaven.)
Until then, when I see the full moon rise, I will think about the “light nights” in Korr, and continue to pray for the Rendille, and for Nick and Lynne, Jim and Laura, Grant and Loki, and all the Rendille believers. It is they who, even on the darkest of nights, carry a light capable of piercing the darkness.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Sleepover!
My 'sleepover' took place at the end of March. Yep, I'm a little behind! :)
-----------------------------------------------------
Most Rendille don’t live in Korr town itself. Rather, they live in the goobs, clan villages scattered around the desert. The huts in each goob (pronounce the word goob with the same “o” sound as in “go”) are arranged in a circle around the outside and on the inside are circular pens made of thorn branches for the animals – sheep, goats, camels. At the very center is another enclosure for the Rendille elders. There there is a fire there that is always kept smoldering, where the elders sit to discuss weighty matters or just talk the hours away.
It’s always so cool to go out to the goobs – I’ll often hitch a ride when Nick and Lynne head out for any number of reasons. Whenever the car comes by, people rush out and suddenly there’s a big crowd of people – mostly children – who all want to say hello.
One of the things I’ve wanted to do while I’m here was to go out and spend the night in a goob – be there when the animals come back at night, sleep in a hut, and get a little glimpse of what life is like for a traditional Rendille.
One of the older ladies at our church is named Khaso, and she is SO fun. She lives in Rongumo, a goob maybe ten kilometers out of town, but if there’s even a HINT of something going on at the church, she will walk in and be there, right in the front row, with a huge smile on her face. Every time she sees me, she greets me, pulling me in close for a cheek to cheek greeting and gives me a big hug. She has had a number of visitors stay with her, and Nick thought that she would be a good person to go stay with. Of course, he asked her if it would be ok if I came and stayed with her one night, and then for a week and a half, every time she saw him she would ask, “Is Hillary coming tonight? No? Ok, tomorrow? The next day? When? When will she come???” We knew it would have to be soon or Khaso might pop!
Friday night turned out to be the night. After school, I came home and Lynne made a stew and some bread to take out (we knew that despite the fact that Khaso has nothing, nothing, nothing, she would have felt obligated to feed us, and we couldn’t let her do that). We also brought tea leaves, milk, and sugar for chai, and a small drum of water. When we were all loaded up, we set out for Rongumo.
We arrived just before sunset, and immediately I was swarmed with kids. They all began signing and so there I stood in the middle of them all for nearly half an hour, unable to move for the dozens of children all around me, catching on to as many words as I could and doing my best to sing along. It was absolute bliss!
I finally tore myself away from the kids and we went into Khaso’s hut, where she made us each a cup of chai. The kitchen is inside the hut, just four stones arranged around a little dug out pit in the dirt – just enough to lay firewood underneath and balance a pot on top. She told us about the drought and how hard it is for people right now, and we talked for nearly an hour (thank goodness for Nick, who could translate for me!). Around 8:30, we gathered in front of the hut – Nick on the man’s side, me, about a bazillion kids, and any other women on the other side. People wandered over from all over the village to hear what Nick had to say – people are always interested in hearing about God, and Nick was eager to try out the most recently translated passage in a public setting. There were probably about forty people gathered – not counting the kids! – and as they all arrived, the kids started singing again. Another solid half an hour of singing (led by one boy who was like the musical version of the energizer bunny – he sang and sang and sang and sang with gusto and at full volume the ENTIRE time), and then we prayed to begin. Indubaayo has come along, too, so she took the passage and began to read.
As she read and as Nick spoke, I looked around me, taking in what I could by the light of the rising moon. I was sitting in front of the hut, little naked Rendille kids leaning on and sitting all over me. At least two little ones had fallen asleep – one slumped against my back, one with her head in my lap. Three different kids held my hand or my arm, and at least two had hands on my feet. One girl sat behind me and played with my hair. To my right was the hut, smoky and earthy. Across from me and to my left were all the people who had come to listen – elders, women, and young unmarried girls. The headgear of the girls tinkled in the breeze and shimmered in the moonlight. All around me were traditional Rendille – beads and staffs and bracelets and smiles. Dominating the starry night was Indubaayo, reading a little bit haltingly, but with a deep love for these people and a beaming smile on her face.
As someone who has had a Bible (or two or three or thirteen) in her house all her life – a simplified one for kids, a version with applications for teenagers, an NIV version, a Living Bible version, a New American Standard version, a King James version, a study Bible version, a Life Application Bible version, a New Testament only version, a “read through the Bible in a year” version – it hit me.
This was new. It was fresh. It wasn’t backed with a “yeah yeah, been there, heard that” kind of attitude. It was brand. new. And it was revolutionary, especially for the Rendille, for whom revenge is a very big part of their existence:
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse… Do not repay anyone evil for evil... Do not take revenge [the Rendille way of saying this is “do not wash blood with blood”], my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink... Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (selected verses from Romans 12:14-21)
These people were listening to something in their own language, which has only been written down for about twenty years, read by someone who just a few years ago was completely illiterate. And they were hearing the word of God for the very. first. time in their LIVES.
All I could do was to sit in awe at what was going on around me.
I fell asleep that night on my cowskin on the floor of Khaso’s hut with tears in my eyes. I knew that that night represented something so big, so meaningful, so… GOD. And I got to be there.
Waakh a la koolicho! May God be praised!
-----------------------------------------------------
Most Rendille don’t live in Korr town itself. Rather, they live in the goobs, clan villages scattered around the desert. The huts in each goob (pronounce the word goob with the same “o” sound as in “go”) are arranged in a circle around the outside and on the inside are circular pens made of thorn branches for the animals – sheep, goats, camels. At the very center is another enclosure for the Rendille elders. There there is a fire there that is always kept smoldering, where the elders sit to discuss weighty matters or just talk the hours away.
It’s always so cool to go out to the goobs – I’ll often hitch a ride when Nick and Lynne head out for any number of reasons. Whenever the car comes by, people rush out and suddenly there’s a big crowd of people – mostly children – who all want to say hello.
One of the things I’ve wanted to do while I’m here was to go out and spend the night in a goob – be there when the animals come back at night, sleep in a hut, and get a little glimpse of what life is like for a traditional Rendille.
One of the older ladies at our church is named Khaso, and she is SO fun. She lives in Rongumo, a goob maybe ten kilometers out of town, but if there’s even a HINT of something going on at the church, she will walk in and be there, right in the front row, with a huge smile on her face. Every time she sees me, she greets me, pulling me in close for a cheek to cheek greeting and gives me a big hug. She has had a number of visitors stay with her, and Nick thought that she would be a good person to go stay with. Of course, he asked her if it would be ok if I came and stayed with her one night, and then for a week and a half, every time she saw him she would ask, “Is Hillary coming tonight? No? Ok, tomorrow? The next day? When? When will she come???” We knew it would have to be soon or Khaso might pop!
Friday night turned out to be the night. After school, I came home and Lynne made a stew and some bread to take out (we knew that despite the fact that Khaso has nothing, nothing, nothing, she would have felt obligated to feed us, and we couldn’t let her do that). We also brought tea leaves, milk, and sugar for chai, and a small drum of water. When we were all loaded up, we set out for Rongumo.
We arrived just before sunset, and immediately I was swarmed with kids. They all began signing and so there I stood in the middle of them all for nearly half an hour, unable to move for the dozens of children all around me, catching on to as many words as I could and doing my best to sing along. It was absolute bliss!
I finally tore myself away from the kids and we went into Khaso’s hut, where she made us each a cup of chai. The kitchen is inside the hut, just four stones arranged around a little dug out pit in the dirt – just enough to lay firewood underneath and balance a pot on top. She told us about the drought and how hard it is for people right now, and we talked for nearly an hour (thank goodness for Nick, who could translate for me!). Around 8:30, we gathered in front of the hut – Nick on the man’s side, me, about a bazillion kids, and any other women on the other side. People wandered over from all over the village to hear what Nick had to say – people are always interested in hearing about God, and Nick was eager to try out the most recently translated passage in a public setting. There were probably about forty people gathered – not counting the kids! – and as they all arrived, the kids started singing again. Another solid half an hour of singing (led by one boy who was like the musical version of the energizer bunny – he sang and sang and sang and sang with gusto and at full volume the ENTIRE time), and then we prayed to begin. Indubaayo has come along, too, so she took the passage and began to read.As she read and as Nick spoke, I looked around me, taking in what I could by the light of the rising moon. I was sitting in front of the hut, little naked Rendille kids leaning on and sitting all over me. At least two little ones had fallen asleep – one slumped against my back, one with her head in my lap. Three different kids held my hand or my arm, and at least two had hands on my feet. One girl sat behind me and played with my hair. To my right was the hut, smoky and earthy. Across from me and to my left were all the people who had come to listen – elders, women, and young unmarried girls. The headgear of the girls tinkled in the breeze and shimmered in the moonlight. All around me were traditional Rendille – beads and staffs and bracelets and smiles. Dominating the starry night was Indubaayo, reading a little bit haltingly, but with a deep love for these people and a beaming smile on her face.
As someone who has had a Bible (or two or three or thirteen) in her house all her life – a simplified one for kids, a version with applications for teenagers, an NIV version, a Living Bible version, a New American Standard version, a King James version, a study Bible version, a Life Application Bible version, a New Testament only version, a “read through the Bible in a year” version – it hit me.
This was new. It was fresh. It wasn’t backed with a “yeah yeah, been there, heard that” kind of attitude. It was brand. new. And it was revolutionary, especially for the Rendille, for whom revenge is a very big part of their existence:
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse… Do not repay anyone evil for evil... Do not take revenge [the Rendille way of saying this is “do not wash blood with blood”], my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink... Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (selected verses from Romans 12:14-21)
These people were listening to something in their own language, which has only been written down for about twenty years, read by someone who just a few years ago was completely illiterate. And they were hearing the word of God for the very. first. time in their LIVES.
All I could do was to sit in awe at what was going on around me.
I fell asleep that night on my cowskin on the floor of Khaso’s hut with tears in my eyes. I knew that that night represented something so big, so meaningful, so… GOD. And I got to be there.
Waakh a la koolicho! May God be praised!
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Tirrim, part 1: Bible Translation
Every time I think about beginning this post, I am overwhelmed. There is so much to tell, so much to explain. So many things are interconnected that if I start with one area, it’s understanding is dependent on another, and then again dependent on another. Where do I begin? I want to do an adequate job of explaining how truly exciting and - yes, I’ll use this word yet again - amazing the Tirrim project is. So it takes time. Time to understand it myself, time to put all the pieces together, time to collect photos to help bring it alive, time write it all down. But it’s more than time to begin. So where do I begin the story? I suppose I must begin with Nick and Lynne.
Over thirty years ago, Lynne read the following verses from Isaiah 18 that speak of a people “just beyond the rivers of Ethiopia:”
Go, swift messengers,
to a people tall and smooth-skinned,
to a people feared far and wide,
an aggressive nation of strange speech,
whose land is divided by rivers.
The Rendille at the time, and to some extent now, were known for their aggressive revenge campaigns. If another tribe raided them, revenge would be swift and severe. As a result, many neighbouring tribes feared them. And, as someone trying to learn as much language as she can, sometimes the speech sure sounds strange, too! :) As far as rivers go, there’s not a whole lot of water here (ok, nearly none), but the land is certainly carved up by riverbeds! Make what you will of the similarities, but for Lynne, these verses were a confirmation for her.
God doesn’t use these verses for the same purpose in everybody’s life, but Lynne knew that God was calling her to Northern Kenya. Both Nick and Lynne wanted to work as missionaries in Africa, and decided that they wanted to work in Bible translation. Through God’s leading and provision, they arrived in Korr in 1980 to begin work on Bible translation. What God has grown up in this place in the past twenty-nine years is astounding.
Bible Translation. Adult literacy classes. Evangelism. Veterinary care. Nursery schools. Primary school. Secondary school. Boarding for the schools. A nomadic nursery and lower primary school in the goobs (villages). Tirrim School of the Bible. Church planting and development. Medical care. Building programs. Water projects. Child sponsorship. Higher education sponsorship. Plans for a medical clinic and laboratory… are you beginning to see why I’m so overwhelmed when I start to think of how to explain it all???
Bible Translation
For years, Nick worked on learning Rendille (and he still learns new things all the time!). He is humble and won’t say this himself, but he is extremely fluent in the language and communicates easily with anyone. He, along with a small team, has systematically mapped out the structures of the language and has established a phonetic alphabet that has allowed Rendille to move from being an oral language only to a written one. When at one time the language was in danger of disappearing, having it written down has now preserved it. Even the most traditional, uneducated Rendille elders have realized this, and have given Nick gifts of great honor in gratitude for preserving the language.
With Rendille now possessing a written system, translation work could begin. While the focus for the first stage was the New Testament, the translation committee also decided to translate Genesis and Exodus 1-20.
They chose these books for a number of reasons, a few being that they gave a good foundation of who God is and a good history of our faith. It also describes people living a lifestyle very similar to their own – nomads in a desert land.
It is beyond cool to see what an impact God’s word has on people’s lives. Indubaayo is one lady who got a copy of the book of Mark when she was in the literacy program. All throughout the course, she kept telling the teachers, “This reading and writing is great, the health stuff is great… but we have our OWN god! Stop telling us about this Jesus guy!” Then one day she was reading the book of Mark when she was extremely sick in her hut, and she was hit with an overwhelming realization that this was true! She decided to devote her life to Jesus right then, and since has grown to become the most amazing lady. She is now one of the four evangelists for the Tirrim project and goes out to villages six or seven times a week to tell people about Jesus and the new life he’s given her.
Indubaayo has a copy of the books of the Bible that are available, and she carries them with her everywhere she goes. They are tattered and worn and falling apart, but she refuses to let anyone give her a new copy. “No! These books are TOO precious!” she’ll tell you. I am so convicted by this. Her absolute LOVE of God’s word is so challenging! How wonderful it will be when the entire New Testament is available!
Although she has read what she has over and over and over again, there is so much more that Indubaayo is longing to learn. The Rendille religion focuses a lot around sacrifices, and it’s a big question that she has been facing when she is telling people about Jesus. They thing what she’s telling them is great, but they just can’t fathom a religion without sacrifices. Time and time again, they ask her, “But what about sacrifices?” “But what about sacrifices?” She’s tried to answer them as best she can (and I’m confident that this woman has a solid answer for them), but still she questions exactly what to say, how to make them understand that the death of Jesus is the final sacrifice – we don’t need anything else! We’re forgiven – the. end. But still the people ask, “But what about sacrifices?”
A few months ago, Nick had just finished translating Romans 12. He printed off a copy of the chapter from the computer and gave it to Indubaayo to read to a group of Rendille people. (One of the many steps involved in Bible translation is to take the translation to the public and sort of test it on them – see if it makes sense, if it uses the language that they would use, and to see if there are any tweaks that need to be made.) As she read it, her face lit up. This was it! THIS was the answer she’d been looking for!
Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.(Romans 12:1-2)
God doesn’t want our sheep, our goats, our camels… he wants US! Alive! He wants our lives, dedicated to Him! LIVING sacrifices!
Excitedly, she clutched the printout to her heart and informed Nick he wasn’t about to get it back. The very next day she used this passage – one she had just read for the first time in her life to speak to the secondary school students in their devotion time. Though school kids can sometimes look down on traditional people, they were all ears as she spoke about living sacrifices. In large part through her talk, fifteen of those kids indicated that they wanted to make a new or a stronger commitment of faith.
There is powerful stuff going on here! God’s word is transforming lives! But transformation doesn’t come without opposition.
Since beginning this post, we have learned that as of two months ago, the translation funding has been stopped. The translators and all the support staff that are covered under this project are now out of work. The organization that has been funding the translation has seen a 70% drop in their donations during this economic downturn, and has had to cut many projects. Heartbreakingly, the Rendille translation project is one of them. Nobody is quite sure what this means for the future of this project. We’re praying really hard.
Nick and Lynne are heartened somewhat in knowing that SO many times with Bible translation projects like this, as the Bible nears completion, calamity seems to strike (the translation project is not the only one with funding issues right now – it seems the Tirrim project is being hit on all sides.). It’s happened time and time again, and now they’re seeing it happen here, too. Hmmm… kind of like someone really doesn’t want the word of God to get out!
But! … God is building His church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it!
_____________
* Photo of Indubaayo courtesy Nick Swanepoel
Over thirty years ago, Lynne read the following verses from Isaiah 18 that speak of a people “just beyond the rivers of Ethiopia:”
to a people tall and smooth-skinned,
to a people feared far and wide,
an aggressive nation of strange speech,
whose land is divided by rivers.
The Rendille at the time, and to some extent now, were known for their aggressive revenge campaigns. If another tribe raided them, revenge would be swift and severe. As a result, many neighbouring tribes feared them. And, as someone trying to learn as much language as she can, sometimes the speech sure sounds strange, too! :) As far as rivers go, there’s not a whole lot of water here (ok, nearly none), but the land is certainly carved up by riverbeds! Make what you will of the similarities, but for Lynne, these verses were a confirmation for her.
God doesn’t use these verses for the same purpose in everybody’s life, but Lynne knew that God was calling her to Northern Kenya. Both Nick and Lynne wanted to work as missionaries in Africa, and decided that they wanted to work in Bible translation. Through God’s leading and provision, they arrived in Korr in 1980 to begin work on Bible translation. What God has grown up in this place in the past twenty-nine years is astounding.
Bible Translation. Adult literacy classes. Evangelism. Veterinary care. Nursery schools. Primary school. Secondary school. Boarding for the schools. A nomadic nursery and lower primary school in the goobs (villages). Tirrim School of the Bible. Church planting and development. Medical care. Building programs. Water projects. Child sponsorship. Higher education sponsorship. Plans for a medical clinic and laboratory… are you beginning to see why I’m so overwhelmed when I start to think of how to explain it all???
Bible Translation
For years, Nick worked on learning Rendille (and he still learns new things all the time!). He is humble and won’t say this himself, but he is extremely fluent in the language and communicates easily with anyone. He, along with a small team, has systematically mapped out the structures of the language and has established a phonetic alphabet that has allowed Rendille to move from being an oral language only to a written one. When at one time the language was in danger of disappearing, having it written down has now preserved it. Even the most traditional, uneducated Rendille elders have realized this, and have given Nick gifts of great honor in gratitude for preserving the language.
With Rendille now possessing a written system, translation work could begin. While the focus for the first stage was the New Testament, the translation committee also decided to translate Genesis and Exodus 1-20.
They chose these books for a number of reasons, a few being that they gave a good foundation of who God is and a good history of our faith. It also describes people living a lifestyle very similar to their own – nomads in a desert land.
It is beyond cool to see what an impact God’s word has on people’s lives. Indubaayo is one lady who got a copy of the book of Mark when she was in the literacy program. All throughout the course, she kept telling the teachers, “This reading and writing is great, the health stuff is great… but we have our OWN god! Stop telling us about this Jesus guy!” Then one day she was reading the book of Mark when she was extremely sick in her hut, and she was hit with an overwhelming realization that this was true! She decided to devote her life to Jesus right then, and since has grown to become the most amazing lady. She is now one of the four evangelists for the Tirrim project and goes out to villages six or seven times a week to tell people about Jesus and the new life he’s given her.
Indubaayo has a copy of the books of the Bible that are available, and she carries them with her everywhere she goes. They are tattered and worn and falling apart, but she refuses to let anyone give her a new copy. “No! These books are TOO precious!” she’ll tell you. I am so convicted by this. Her absolute LOVE of God’s word is so challenging! How wonderful it will be when the entire New Testament is available!
Although she has read what she has over and over and over again, there is so much more that Indubaayo is longing to learn. The Rendille religion focuses a lot around sacrifices, and it’s a big question that she has been facing when she is telling people about Jesus. They thing what she’s telling them is great, but they just can’t fathom a religion without sacrifices. Time and time again, they ask her, “But what about sacrifices?” “But what about sacrifices?” She’s tried to answer them as best she can (and I’m confident that this woman has a solid answer for them), but still she questions exactly what to say, how to make them understand that the death of Jesus is the final sacrifice – we don’t need anything else! We’re forgiven – the. end. But still the people ask, “But what about sacrifices?”
A few months ago, Nick had just finished translating Romans 12. He printed off a copy of the chapter from the computer and gave it to Indubaayo to read to a group of Rendille people. (One of the many steps involved in Bible translation is to take the translation to the public and sort of test it on them – see if it makes sense, if it uses the language that they would use, and to see if there are any tweaks that need to be made.) As she read it, her face lit up. This was it! THIS was the answer she’d been looking for!Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.(Romans 12:1-2)
God doesn’t want our sheep, our goats, our camels… he wants US! Alive! He wants our lives, dedicated to Him! LIVING sacrifices!
Excitedly, she clutched the printout to her heart and informed Nick he wasn’t about to get it back. The very next day she used this passage – one she had just read for the first time in her life to speak to the secondary school students in their devotion time. Though school kids can sometimes look down on traditional people, they were all ears as she spoke about living sacrifices. In large part through her talk, fifteen of those kids indicated that they wanted to make a new or a stronger commitment of faith.
There is powerful stuff going on here! God’s word is transforming lives! But transformation doesn’t come without opposition.
Since beginning this post, we have learned that as of two months ago, the translation funding has been stopped. The translators and all the support staff that are covered under this project are now out of work. The organization that has been funding the translation has seen a 70% drop in their donations during this economic downturn, and has had to cut many projects. Heartbreakingly, the Rendille translation project is one of them. Nobody is quite sure what this means for the future of this project. We’re praying really hard.
Nick and Lynne are heartened somewhat in knowing that SO many times with Bible translation projects like this, as the Bible nears completion, calamity seems to strike (the translation project is not the only one with funding issues right now – it seems the Tirrim project is being hit on all sides.). It’s happened time and time again, and now they’re seeing it happen here, too. Hmmm… kind of like someone really doesn’t want the word of God to get out!
But! … God is building His church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it!
_____________
* Photo of Indubaayo courtesy Nick Swanepoel
Monday, June 01, 2009
The Elbow High Five
I've had a number of new posts lately - scroll down or click here to see Drought, A River in the Desert, Operation Library, and Desert Alive.
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I’d been hearing rumours from the kids for a few weeks, but I wasn’t sure if they were true or not. Last week it was confirmed – there is officially a cholera outbreak in our district. It’s hard to know if it’s hit Korr or not, because there’s no way of knowing what happens with everybody out in the goobs (villages), but there have been confirmed cases in Loglogo and Laisamis, towns just south of us along the road, and there have been confirmed deaths because of it. Cholera, in it’s worst form, is one of the most rapidly-striking fatal illnesses known, and is nothing to mess with. People are definitely scared.
For this reason, Lynne got up in church last Sunday and made an announcement, telling people about what cholera is, how to treat it, how to wash their hands after “helping themselves” (don’t have water? Wash with sand!) and told people to avoid shaking hands if at all possible and just do a hands-free greeting.
I decided that this message needed to be repeated at the school, so at Monday’s assembly, I took a good chunk to talk about cholera (gah! What do I know?) and the same three points that Lynne explained to the church, and told them to spread the word to everyone they know. We definitely don’t want cholera adding to the problems the Rendille are experiencing right now with the drought and all of the related problems.
As for greetings, I didn’t think the kids would be so into the “kiss-kiss” on the side of the face kind of greeting, so I decided to make up a kind of a fun, hands-free greeting that they could use – the elbow high-five! I had them all practice, and it’s become a hit at the school!
Turns out it’s not just been a hit at the school. The kids took me seriously when I told them to tell everyone about it, and by Friday, a man came in from one of the faaaar goobs saying, “I hear we’re supposed to greet like this now!” and demonstrated the now famous elbow-high-five! Awesome! I started a trend! :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’d been hearing rumours from the kids for a few weeks, but I wasn’t sure if they were true or not. Last week it was confirmed – there is officially a cholera outbreak in our district. It’s hard to know if it’s hit Korr or not, because there’s no way of knowing what happens with everybody out in the goobs (villages), but there have been confirmed cases in Loglogo and Laisamis, towns just south of us along the road, and there have been confirmed deaths because of it. Cholera, in it’s worst form, is one of the most rapidly-striking fatal illnesses known, and is nothing to mess with. People are definitely scared.
For this reason, Lynne got up in church last Sunday and made an announcement, telling people about what cholera is, how to treat it, how to wash their hands after “helping themselves” (don’t have water? Wash with sand!) and told people to avoid shaking hands if at all possible and just do a hands-free greeting.
I decided that this message needed to be repeated at the school, so at Monday’s assembly, I took a good chunk to talk about cholera (gah! What do I know?) and the same three points that Lynne explained to the church, and told them to spread the word to everyone they know. We definitely don’t want cholera adding to the problems the Rendille are experiencing right now with the drought and all of the related problems.
As for greetings, I didn’t think the kids would be so into the “kiss-kiss” on the side of the face kind of greeting, so I decided to make up a kind of a fun, hands-free greeting that they could use – the elbow high-five! I had them all practice, and it’s become a hit at the school!
Turns out it’s not just been a hit at the school. The kids took me seriously when I told them to tell everyone about it, and by Friday, a man came in from one of the faaaar goobs saying, “I hear we’re supposed to greet like this now!” and demonstrated the now famous elbow-high-five! Awesome! I started a trend! :)
Drought
I know I’ve talked about it before, and my posts about the rain may give a different impression, but the drought here in northern Kenya is really, really bad. The short rains in November and December of last year never materialized. It’s now June, and while God can send rain at any time, the long rainy season (April and May) has come and go with next to nothing. It’s a long way to November again.
Animals are already dying – goats, sheep, donkeys, cattle, even camels. No water means not only nothing to drink, but no grazing. People are taking their animals farther and farther to find grazing, but still nothing. And it’s not just the animals that are dying. We’ve heard that at least five men - herders out with the animals – who have died of starvation, and who knows how many more that we haven’t heard about. There is simply no water, no money, no food.
Relief food that is so desperately needed is coming, but is so restricted in who it is given to that it’s next to useless. There’s a one time emergency bit that’s coming from AIM, which might last a few weeks, but what of after that?
You know, because I don’t speak the language, I don’t hear people’s stories. I am working with the kids at the school who get a solid meal once a day (once!), and teachers who at least have a little bit of salary to live on. I don’t really feel the effects of the people’s cries for help or see the desperation that Nick and Lynne see every single day. But I know it’s out there. I hear the stories. I hear about the people in Marsabit who, even if they have a little bit of money for rice or maize meal, aren’t bothering to buy it because there’s no water to cook with. Mothers who are so starving themselves, yet walk for kilometers and kilometers to Nick and Lynne’s house to plead for a little bit of money to buy something for their children. People who make up all manner of stories for why they need money – a dying uncle, acceptance at a prestigious school, anything – in desperate hopes to get a few shillings to buy food. People who are so worried about their children that they just snap and go mental – literally crazy under the strain of worry and starvation – and wander off into the desert or just completely shut down and sit in a trance-like state. People who simply give up and commit suicide to escape the fear and the worry and the pain of slowly starving to death.
I hear the stories, but on Friday, I saw it for myself.
We drove out to Namarey, about 30km from Korr, to take a woman back to her goob who either has cerebral malaria or is one who has snapped from the strain of the drought. She had two young children with her – a baby and a toddler – and another of her sons is a pupil at my school. I sat in the back of the truck with her, and the whole time, she just stared off into space, occasionally rolling her head back and forth and looking around with empty eyes and and a half open mouth. When she got sick, she took the two young children from Namarey and just started walking out into the desert. Thankfully someone found her and took her to town for help. We were taking her back to her home where a family member would look after her and help dole out the medicine that she received from the dispensary.
When we got out of the car at the lady’s goob, many of the children came to see, and I began playing with them, as I always do. Often they’re shy and quite nervous about this strange white skinned creature coming up to them to shake their hand (sorry, to give them an “elbow high five”). There are the brave ones who come right up, those who take some coaxing, and those who stay hidden behind a brother or sister for safety and don’t ever venture out. But this time, there was another group. These were the ones on whom malnutrition and starvation had begun to take their toll.
I went to one little girl, maybe two or three years old, who was standing beside her mother and greeted her. “Aa nebey aa?” I asked her, holding out my hand. She didn’t respond, and at first I just thought she was one of the shy ones. But after I greeted her a second time, I saw that there was no recognition in her eyes. It was like she was looking at me, but didn’t see me. Her belly was distended, her genitals swollen. She didn’t shake my hand, and I can’t be sure, but I think probably because there was no strength in her skinny little arms to even lift them.
You know, it’s one thing to see the pictures on TV and in child sponsorship magazines of ‘starving children in Africa.’ It’s another thing entirely to take the tiny little hand of a child who is in the process of starving to death in yours and feebly tell them, “Yeesoo weyti aki ‘dona” – Jesus loves you very much.
I look around, and the need is soooo huge, and I am so small. I feel so helpless. There is nothing I can do. I can’t make it rain. I can’t raise huge amounts of money. I can’t feed these people. I, on my own, am powerless. But what I can do is pray – which is mightier than one might think. Will you join me? Though it seems hopeless, God is still in control. God sees the suffering of his people. Though we cry out and don’t understand, still God is good.
My God is so BIG! So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.
My God is so BIG! So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.
The mountains are His, the rivers are His, the stars are His handiwork, too.
My God is so BIG! So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.
Can I add a verse?
The Rendille are His, the desert is His, the rains and the drought are His, too.
Oh, God, you are BIG! You’re strong and so mighty, there’s nothing that You cannot do.
And that includes bringing relief to the Rendille here in Northern Kenya.
Animals are already dying – goats, sheep, donkeys, cattle, even camels. No water means not only nothing to drink, but no grazing. People are taking their animals farther and farther to find grazing, but still nothing. And it’s not just the animals that are dying. We’ve heard that at least five men - herders out with the animals – who have died of starvation, and who knows how many more that we haven’t heard about. There is simply no water, no money, no food.
Relief food that is so desperately needed is coming, but is so restricted in who it is given to that it’s next to useless. There’s a one time emergency bit that’s coming from AIM, which might last a few weeks, but what of after that?
You know, because I don’t speak the language, I don’t hear people’s stories. I am working with the kids at the school who get a solid meal once a day (once!), and teachers who at least have a little bit of salary to live on. I don’t really feel the effects of the people’s cries for help or see the desperation that Nick and Lynne see every single day. But I know it’s out there. I hear the stories. I hear about the people in Marsabit who, even if they have a little bit of money for rice or maize meal, aren’t bothering to buy it because there’s no water to cook with. Mothers who are so starving themselves, yet walk for kilometers and kilometers to Nick and Lynne’s house to plead for a little bit of money to buy something for their children. People who make up all manner of stories for why they need money – a dying uncle, acceptance at a prestigious school, anything – in desperate hopes to get a few shillings to buy food. People who are so worried about their children that they just snap and go mental – literally crazy under the strain of worry and starvation – and wander off into the desert or just completely shut down and sit in a trance-like state. People who simply give up and commit suicide to escape the fear and the worry and the pain of slowly starving to death.
I hear the stories, but on Friday, I saw it for myself.
We drove out to Namarey, about 30km from Korr, to take a woman back to her goob who either has cerebral malaria or is one who has snapped from the strain of the drought. She had two young children with her – a baby and a toddler – and another of her sons is a pupil at my school. I sat in the back of the truck with her, and the whole time, she just stared off into space, occasionally rolling her head back and forth and looking around with empty eyes and and a half open mouth. When she got sick, she took the two young children from Namarey and just started walking out into the desert. Thankfully someone found her and took her to town for help. We were taking her back to her home where a family member would look after her and help dole out the medicine that she received from the dispensary.
When we got out of the car at the lady’s goob, many of the children came to see, and I began playing with them, as I always do. Often they’re shy and quite nervous about this strange white skinned creature coming up to them to shake their hand (sorry, to give them an “elbow high five”). There are the brave ones who come right up, those who take some coaxing, and those who stay hidden behind a brother or sister for safety and don’t ever venture out. But this time, there was another group. These were the ones on whom malnutrition and starvation had begun to take their toll.
I went to one little girl, maybe two or three years old, who was standing beside her mother and greeted her. “Aa nebey aa?” I asked her, holding out my hand. She didn’t respond, and at first I just thought she was one of the shy ones. But after I greeted her a second time, I saw that there was no recognition in her eyes. It was like she was looking at me, but didn’t see me. Her belly was distended, her genitals swollen. She didn’t shake my hand, and I can’t be sure, but I think probably because there was no strength in her skinny little arms to even lift them.
You know, it’s one thing to see the pictures on TV and in child sponsorship magazines of ‘starving children in Africa.’ It’s another thing entirely to take the tiny little hand of a child who is in the process of starving to death in yours and feebly tell them, “Yeesoo weyti aki ‘dona” – Jesus loves you very much.
I look around, and the need is soooo huge, and I am so small. I feel so helpless. There is nothing I can do. I can’t make it rain. I can’t raise huge amounts of money. I can’t feed these people. I, on my own, am powerless. But what I can do is pray – which is mightier than one might think. Will you join me? Though it seems hopeless, God is still in control. God sees the suffering of his people. Though we cry out and don’t understand, still God is good.
As I’ve been writing tonight, a song we used to sing at camp has come into my head.Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my saviour.
~ Habakuk 3:17-18
My God is so BIG! So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.
The mountains are His, the rivers are His, the stars are His handiwork, too.
My God is so BIG! So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.
Can I add a verse?
Oh, God, you are BIG! You’re strong and so mighty, there’s nothing that You cannot do.
And that includes bringing relief to the Rendille here in Northern Kenya.
A river in the desert!
I was in the middle of a Rendille lesson at my language helper’s house when the rain started. It was so loud on the mabati (corrugated metal) roof that I couldn’t even hear her when she was six inches from my ear. We finished what we were doing and decided to call it quits for the day. Anyway, this Vancouver girl was eager to go outside and enjoy the wet!
It was incredible! There were little rivulets flowing all over the sand and rocks, and I had a hunch that the lagas (river beds) would be flowing. I was right! Everywhere I looked, little lagas were full of water. I heard the sound of kids shouting behind me at one of the bigger lagas on my way home, and headed over. By the time I got there, it had stopped raining, but the effects were still able to be seen.
I was amazed at what I found – a raging river flowing through the middle of the desert! It wasn’t very deep (maybe to my knees?) but it was wide and swift. The rocks at one side created huge rapids and the water was just gushing down the laga. There were all kinds of people gathered to see, but nobody was crossing. The water was flowing too fast. I dipped my toes in the side just for fun and people all began shouting at me, afraid I would try to cross and would be swept away. We just stood and watched, amazed at how such a short rain could create such a river!
As the rain had stopped, the water began receding fairly quickly. Boya, one of our night guards, helped an old woman across with her bundles, and I quickly joined the kids who had bravely ventured in a little farther upstream. And what does one do when in a river with children who see this kind of water only every couple of years? Begin a water fight, or course! They were a little reluctant at first, but soon discovered that HEY! This is FUN! and loved the idea of splashing the crazy mzungu.
Already mostly soaked, I decided to pull some dramatics and lose my balance and "fall in" to the river. I joined the other kids who were allowing themselves to float downstream a little. The water was maybe a foot deep at this point, so, lying on my back with my feet downstream (mostly so the water wouldn’t carry my skirt up around my ears!), I straightened out and floated down the river (just trying to ignore what might be in the water I was now immersed in! Ah! Fresh rainwater… right?). The kids were all amazed – “Madam! You know how to swim?!?!” I didn’t have the heart to tell them that lying in a foot of water and bumping my butt and my elbows on the rocks beneath me didn’t exactly count as swimming!
After the kids started dispersing, I soggily wandered home, taking a moment to enjoy the view. The clouds had mostly gone, and the setting sun turned what was left of them golden against the pink sky. The river had dwindled to a quiet babbling brook – a sound that was at once familiar and foreign. The birds were twittering and I could hear the laughter of the kids farther upstream who had remained to play.
In another hour or so, the water would be gone completely, and by the end of the next day, the riverbeds were dry again and the rain was but a memory. I learned that for these lagas to flow, especially the big one, is quite rare! It’s been a at least few years since there’s last been water in it, so I’m really grateful I got to experience it!
It was incredible! There were little rivulets flowing all over the sand and rocks, and I had a hunch that the lagas (river beds) would be flowing. I was right! Everywhere I looked, little lagas were full of water. I heard the sound of kids shouting behind me at one of the bigger lagas on my way home, and headed over. By the time I got there, it had stopped raining, but the effects were still able to be seen.
I was amazed at what I found – a raging river flowing through the middle of the desert! It wasn’t very deep (maybe to my knees?) but it was wide and swift. The rocks at one side created huge rapids and the water was just gushing down the laga. There were all kinds of people gathered to see, but nobody was crossing. The water was flowing too fast. I dipped my toes in the side just for fun and people all began shouting at me, afraid I would try to cross and would be swept away. We just stood and watched, amazed at how such a short rain could create such a river!
As the rain had stopped, the water began receding fairly quickly. Boya, one of our night guards, helped an old woman across with her bundles, and I quickly joined the kids who had bravely ventured in a little farther upstream. And what does one do when in a river with children who see this kind of water only every couple of years? Begin a water fight, or course! They were a little reluctant at first, but soon discovered that HEY! This is FUN! and loved the idea of splashing the crazy mzungu.
Already mostly soaked, I decided to pull some dramatics and lose my balance and "fall in" to the river. I joined the other kids who were allowing themselves to float downstream a little. The water was maybe a foot deep at this point, so, lying on my back with my feet downstream (mostly so the water wouldn’t carry my skirt up around my ears!), I straightened out and floated down the river (just trying to ignore what might be in the water I was now immersed in! Ah! Fresh rainwater… right?). The kids were all amazed – “Madam! You know how to swim?!?!” I didn’t have the heart to tell them that lying in a foot of water and bumping my butt and my elbows on the rocks beneath me didn’t exactly count as swimming!After the kids started dispersing, I soggily wandered home, taking a moment to enjoy the view. The clouds had mostly gone, and the setting sun turned what was left of them golden against the pink sky. The river had dwindled to a quiet babbling brook – a sound that was at once familiar and foreign. The birds were twittering and I could hear the laughter of the kids farther upstream who had remained to play.
In another hour or so, the water would be gone completely, and by the end of the next day, the riverbeds were dry again and the rain was but a memory. I learned that for these lagas to flow, especially the big one, is quite rare! It’s been a at least few years since there’s last been water in it, so I’m really grateful I got to experience it!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Operation Library
The school library was in pretty rough shape last term. What very few story books we had were all over the place, tattered and torn, and nearly lost among all sorts of random books and documents. Among these were an eight year old document from the Kenyan Electoral Commission, a Nokia phone manual, and a large political and legalese document on the Middle East Peace Process under the Clinton administration. There was a pile of old posters and teaching aids in the corner, random art supplies, cards, and bits games on every shelf, and torn soccer balls in a bucket in the corner.
There was a system for checking out books, and the teacher in charge of the library is a really committed guy – offering to help and go the extra mile for the kids all the time. Some of the kids used the library, but the fact is, it was so hard to find things that it made it nearly impossible. The kids have one English text book between four or five if they’re lucky in most classes – in my class we have one book for the whole class – so even in English class they rarely get practice reading. And yet, on their exams, they have two passages to read and answer questions about. I continually was tearing my hair out asking, "How can these kids learn to read if they don’t have any books???" Arrrrgh!
Last term I started going to each class once a week to just read to them – a story a week – and they love it! It’s a good start (and a fun part of my week!) but they need to read for themselves! If they actually had BOOKS, and if they’re organized and neatly displayed, they might actually want to read! And when they read, their English will improve, and their writing will improve, and they can learn all kinds of new things, and their world will be expanded by leaps and bounds! And of course, if they read and understand story books for themselves, the hope is that they’ll read and understand the Word of God for themselves, too!
Ah! If only they had some BOOKS!!!
When I was raising support to come to Kenya, people were SO amazingly generous and I ended up with a surplus in my account that I could use for special projects and the like while I’m here. I decided to use some of that surplus to help with the library.
While I was in Nairobi in April over the school holiday, I went to as many different book shops as I could to try to find some books. It’s actually really hard to get good picture books for kids here in Kenya – reading for pleasure is often a foreign concept here, so the market for kids books is not great, but I was able to find a decent assortment to start with. (Ah, to have Scholastic deliver to Kenya!!!)
BUT, I really didn’t want to spend all this money (money people have donated in support of what I’m doing here, especially!) to buy books and throw them into the library as it was. It needed to be cleaned, organized, and the kids needed to be taught how to take care of the books and the space they had…
Thus began I think the biggest cleaning job I have ever undertaken. Thank goodness for eager helpers! We sorted books, pulled and repaired torn books, sorted posters and teaching aids and rearranged furniture. We organized art supplies, arranged sporting equipment, untangled skipping ropes, made posters, and threw away a lot, a lot, a lot of junk and old paper. We found teacher’s long lost notebooks of notes, sorted puzzle pieces into different puzzles and bagged them, labeled shelves, and put up photos. And then we swept. And swept and swept and swept and swept and swept. I’ve never seen so much dust in my life! The wind blows pretty much constantly, the windows have no glass, and the library has no door. The kids sweep the classrooms daily, but the library doesn’t get swept. Korr being a desert and all, that makes for a lot of dirt!
A lot of the repairing, sorting of books into vague reading levels (easy, medium, hard), and poster making happened over the break, but a lot of the cleaning I was able to do in the first week and a half or so of this term when I had spares. Many kids offered to help, which I gladly took them up on when I could. As they passed by the window and saw the library slowly getting cleaner and cleaner, their comments were so sweet and a definite encouragement:
– Woooy, madam, you are working hard today!
– Madam, now it really looks like a library!
– Madam, you are truly doing a good work!
– Madam, may God bless the work of your hands! (awww!)
– Woooooy, madam, you must really love us!
Bight and shiny new, it was ready to be opened, but I decided to keep the library closed until I could go around to each class and take them in to show them how things were put away and labeled, how to check books out, and how to keep the library neat. “If you can keep it aaaabsolutely PERFET like this until next Monday,” I told them, “THEN I can bring all the new books!” I had told them all that I had new books right at the beginning of the term, so almost daily somebody asks me “Madam, where are the new books? Can we see them???” I tell them, “Yes! But first I have to see that you can take care of what we already have. I don’t want to bring in new books and have them phoot! thrown all over the floor!”
I tell you, these kids can’t WAIT for these new books, and they’re doing a great job keeping the library clean. But the thing that makes me SO excited is that they’re ALL READING! Every break, every lunch, during morning preps, that library is FULL of kids! I think the other teachers might be a little annoyed with me, too, cause there are SO many kids coming to ask for initials in the check out book that they’re feeling more than a little overwhelmed! And I haven’t even brought the new books in!
There is still a loooong way to go with stocking this library, and I’m hoping that I can maybe strike some deal with shipping or SOMETHING to try to get more books to the school once I get back to Canada. Many things you can just buy in Kenya, but books are difficult. I don’t know… I’m thinking book drives, Scholastic coupons, whatever I can do to get these kids a decent library and get them READING!
There was a system for checking out books, and the teacher in charge of the library is a really committed guy – offering to help and go the extra mile for the kids all the time. Some of the kids used the library, but the fact is, it was so hard to find things that it made it nearly impossible. The kids have one English text book between four or five if they’re lucky in most classes – in my class we have one book for the whole class – so even in English class they rarely get practice reading. And yet, on their exams, they have two passages to read and answer questions about. I continually was tearing my hair out asking, "How can these kids learn to read if they don’t have any books???" Arrrrgh!
Last term I started going to each class once a week to just read to them – a story a week – and they love it! It’s a good start (and a fun part of my week!) but they need to read for themselves! If they actually had BOOKS, and if they’re organized and neatly displayed, they might actually want to read! And when they read, their English will improve, and their writing will improve, and they can learn all kinds of new things, and their world will be expanded by leaps and bounds! And of course, if they read and understand story books for themselves, the hope is that they’ll read and understand the Word of God for themselves, too!Ah! If only they had some BOOKS!!!
When I was raising support to come to Kenya, people were SO amazingly generous and I ended up with a surplus in my account that I could use for special projects and the like while I’m here. I decided to use some of that surplus to help with the library.
While I was in Nairobi in April over the school holiday, I went to as many different book shops as I could to try to find some books. It’s actually really hard to get good picture books for kids here in Kenya – reading for pleasure is often a foreign concept here, so the market for kids books is not great, but I was able to find a decent assortment to start with. (Ah, to have Scholastic deliver to Kenya!!!)
BUT, I really didn’t want to spend all this money (money people have donated in support of what I’m doing here, especially!) to buy books and throw them into the library as it was. It needed to be cleaned, organized, and the kids needed to be taught how to take care of the books and the space they had…
Thus began I think the biggest cleaning job I have ever undertaken. Thank goodness for eager helpers! We sorted books, pulled and repaired torn books, sorted posters and teaching aids and rearranged furniture. We organized art supplies, arranged sporting equipment, untangled skipping ropes, made posters, and threw away a lot, a lot, a lot of junk and old paper. We found teacher’s long lost notebooks of notes, sorted puzzle pieces into different puzzles and bagged them, labeled shelves, and put up photos. And then we swept. And swept and swept and swept and swept and swept. I’ve never seen so much dust in my life! The wind blows pretty much constantly, the windows have no glass, and the library has no door. The kids sweep the classrooms daily, but the library doesn’t get swept. Korr being a desert and all, that makes for a lot of dirt!
A lot of the repairing, sorting of books into vague reading levels (easy, medium, hard), and poster making happened over the break, but a lot of the cleaning I was able to do in the first week and a half or so of this term when I had spares. Many kids offered to help, which I gladly took them up on when I could. As they passed by the window and saw the library slowly getting cleaner and cleaner, their comments were so sweet and a definite encouragement:
– Woooy, madam, you are working hard today!
– Madam, now it really looks like a library!
– Madam, you are truly doing a good work!
– Madam, may God bless the work of your hands! (awww!)
– Woooooy, madam, you must really love us!
Bight and shiny new, it was ready to be opened, but I decided to keep the library closed until I could go around to each class and take them in to show them how things were put away and labeled, how to check books out, and how to keep the library neat. “If you can keep it aaaabsolutely PERFET like this until next Monday,” I told them, “THEN I can bring all the new books!” I had told them all that I had new books right at the beginning of the term, so almost daily somebody asks me “Madam, where are the new books? Can we see them???” I tell them, “Yes! But first I have to see that you can take care of what we already have. I don’t want to bring in new books and have them phoot! thrown all over the floor!”
I tell you, these kids can’t WAIT for these new books, and they’re doing a great job keeping the library clean. But the thing that makes me SO excited is that they’re ALL READING! Every break, every lunch, during morning preps, that library is FULL of kids! I think the other teachers might be a little annoyed with me, too, cause there are SO many kids coming to ask for initials in the check out book that they’re feeling more than a little overwhelmed! And I haven’t even brought the new books in!
There is still a loooong way to go with stocking this library, and I’m hoping that I can maybe strike some deal with shipping or SOMETHING to try to get more books to the school once I get back to Canada. Many things you can just buy in Kenya, but books are difficult. I don’t know… I’m thinking book drives, Scholastic coupons, whatever I can do to get these kids a decent library and get them READING!
AH! I’m SO excited!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Posts, posts, and more posts!
This is what happens when I write posts offline, bit by bit. I have a million posts that I've started but have not had time to finish, and then when I have a bit of free time, I can finish them all off and end up posting them all at once. Then YOU get here and go "AAAAK!" So here's a list - read 'em all now, or read 'em bit by bit. Just scroll down to see them, or click the links to take you straight to post. Adagta? (do you understand?)
1. Snippets of a Desert Life - Insect Invasion!
2. The Little Megaphone That Could
3. Over The Desert And Through The Oasis, To Kalacha Town We Go!
4. Not So Sparkly
Enjoy!
1. Snippets of a Desert Life - Insect Invasion!
2. The Little Megaphone That Could
3. Over The Desert And Through The Oasis, To Kalacha Town We Go!
4. Not So Sparkly
Enjoy!
Snippets of a Desert Life - Insect Invasion!
Just before I arrived back in Korr, they had some rain – half an hour of heavy rain that fell overnight. That’s been about it for this rainy season – not nearly enough for what is needed, but just enough to bring out the bugs!
Before the rains, the flies, looking for moisture, were getting worse and worse and worse. Nick and Lynne told me that they couldn’t even open their mouths to talk without nearly swallowing a fly. With the rain, the flies have dispersed and the moths moved in. For a few days, there were moths EVERYWHERE, and Nick and Lynne would sweep up a mountain of dead moths from the floors in the morning. Now the moths have seemed to go, and it’s beetles. They drop from the ceiling and fall in our hair, our food, everywhere. They fly into the walls and drop to the floor with pings and ticks and clicks. The noise in my room last night as I was trying to fall asleep was incredible!
Though there has been very little rain, it’s been cloudy the last few days, which doesn’t bode so well for the solar panels that supply us with light at night. About 9:30 last night, the battery died and all our lights went out. Nick and I grabbed our headlamps and tried to continue working on our computers, but, the lights just above our eyes was a perfect magnet for the beetles and lingering moths. Needless to say, we didn’t get much work done. Moths fluttering in our eyes, beetles dropping on our heads, and flies crawling all over the screen of the computer made doing anything rather difficult. A grasshopper even hopped onto Nick’s computer and then jumped into Nick’s face!
Perhaps that was God’s way of telling us to make it an early night!
Before the rains, the flies, looking for moisture, were getting worse and worse and worse. Nick and Lynne told me that they couldn’t even open their mouths to talk without nearly swallowing a fly. With the rain, the flies have dispersed and the moths moved in. For a few days, there were moths EVERYWHERE, and Nick and Lynne would sweep up a mountain of dead moths from the floors in the morning. Now the moths have seemed to go, and it’s beetles. They drop from the ceiling and fall in our hair, our food, everywhere. They fly into the walls and drop to the floor with pings and ticks and clicks. The noise in my room last night as I was trying to fall asleep was incredible!
Though there has been very little rain, it’s been cloudy the last few days, which doesn’t bode so well for the solar panels that supply us with light at night. About 9:30 last night, the battery died and all our lights went out. Nick and I grabbed our headlamps and tried to continue working on our computers, but, the lights just above our eyes was a perfect magnet for the beetles and lingering moths. Needless to say, we didn’t get much work done. Moths fluttering in our eyes, beetles dropping on our heads, and flies crawling all over the screen of the computer made doing anything rather difficult. A grasshopper even hopped onto Nick’s computer and then jumped into Nick’s face!
Perhaps that was God’s way of telling us to make it an early night!
The Little Megaphone That Could
In town there is a tiny mosque with a huge loudspeaker that broadcasts the daily calls to prayer. The Imam goes to a microphone inside and sings out the call five times a day and it can be heard through the whole town (and all the way to Nairobi, I’m sure!) But the other night, around 9:30pm, we heard something strange. It wasn’t the normal time, nor was it the typical call to prayer. I just figured there was some special event happening at the mosque or something (this is quite typical) and though no more of it.
It’s coming up to a new moon once more, so the nights are darker than dark here in Korr. The Rendille know their way around, so many are still out once the sun sets. It turns out that it’s not just the Rendille who are out.
A few nights ago, a few of the Tirrim staff were walking just out of town and saw two men coming towards them. They greeted them, and it became clear that these men didn’t speak Rendille. It also became clear that they were carrying large guns. It would seem that our two warrior friends were back.
The Tirrim guys ran to town to the mosque. They told the Imam what they had seen, and he quickly flipped on the megaphone and began speaking in Rendille, “Everybody, look out! There are two men with guns walking around town. Go back to your houses and just stay inside.”
Everybody did just that – they went inside, locked or barricaded their doors, and the chief and the District Officer drove around most of the night patrolling and looking for the men. Most likely spooked by the megaphone announcement, the sudden disappearance of all the people from town, and the sound of the two pikis (motorbikes) starting up, the men were not seen again.
Ha HA! Foiled again!
It’s coming up to a new moon once more, so the nights are darker than dark here in Korr. The Rendille know their way around, so many are still out once the sun sets. It turns out that it’s not just the Rendille who are out.
A few nights ago, a few of the Tirrim staff were walking just out of town and saw two men coming towards them. They greeted them, and it became clear that these men didn’t speak Rendille. It also became clear that they were carrying large guns. It would seem that our two warrior friends were back.
The Tirrim guys ran to town to the mosque. They told the Imam what they had seen, and he quickly flipped on the megaphone and began speaking in Rendille, “Everybody, look out! There are two men with guns walking around town. Go back to your houses and just stay inside.”
Everybody did just that – they went inside, locked or barricaded their doors, and the chief and the District Officer drove around most of the night patrolling and looking for the men. Most likely spooked by the megaphone announcement, the sudden disappearance of all the people from town, and the sound of the two pikis (motorbikes) starting up, the men were not seen again.
Ha HA! Foiled again!
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