Weak & Weary

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from ME, for I am gently and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOU SOULS. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.

- Matthew 11:28-30

Throughout these three months abroad, I have certainly learned what it means to be completely weak and weary. This evening I unexpectedly went through it again, as an overwhelming wave of saddness struck. Holding it in, I struggled to understand what was happening to me. Seeking comfort I called my mom who knowingly nailed the problem on the head. As exciting as my romp through the Middle East had been, I was culturally exhausted. The continually adjustment to new people, places and customs had taken its toll and I was shutting down. Longing for friends, I lacked the energy to begin the process of friendship all over all again.

Ever critical of myself, I saw this emotional outburst as a sign of weakness. Operating under survival mode, I had to remain strong at all costs, even if that meant suppressing all that was actually going on. Giving myself permission to go through this process is a challenge, but I know it is the only healthy way. Talking, praying and crying my way through this evening I began to process what was transpiring, allowing me to give words and justification for all I was encountering.

Tonight I saw the undeniable evidence of God at work in my life, as within moment the prayer mom mom had prayed over me was answered unknowingly by a girl on my team. Coming in to talk, we instantly bonded over shared experiences. I know God has placed her in my life for this season and I could not have asked for a better friend.

After an unfathomable drought I finally feel God's presence again and His joy returning to my life.

May today their be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be confident knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.

-Mother Theresa

Returning Home

After being away for six years, arriving in Uganda feels as though I have come home, yet not quite. In some ways it is as though a circle has been made complete with this return to East Africa. The feeling of comfort away from home remains, with the closest description I can find is likened to that of a Narnia experience. Slipping between two worlds, that are so far removed, yet intrinsically connected.

In many ways I think all this traveling in such a short amount of time has forced me to adjust in a rather mechanical fashion. Or perhaps it is an extremely fluid motion. Either way, I seem to have shifted into this mode of figure out the area, learn the unspoken social rules, adapt now!

It's almost as though being in Africa has become kind of this "ho-hum" experience. A sarcastic, "What, you mean you don't have monkey's living in your backyard?" is nearly audible from my lips. Dodging cars to the cross the street, dirt and gravel roads, church services that last all morning and crazy taxis are simply a part of life. It has all become so matter of fact.

Where has my wonder gone?

Miscommunication

After being sick for my final four days in Morocco, I had to delay my final visit to Casablanca. When I was finally able to travel, the day before I was set to depart, I made arrangements to visit with my friends. However, apparently I forgot to mention that I was leaving the next day, so when I arrived they had made all these plans for the weekend and I had to explain that I couldn’t stay.

I felt horrible about the whole situation and they kept asking me if I could change my tickets. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do, so I just tried to make the most of the one evening we had, staying up late to talk with my friend and her cousin.

Leaving the next morning at 6am was bittersweet as it felt as though my time in Morocco was being cut short. Perhaps one day I will be able to return. Inshallah.

Oops!

Goodbye manual labor,
Hello washing machine!

Or at least that is how simple it was all supposed to be. I have sense reconsidered my position on the issue and now feel that handwashing might just be the way to go. Alas, after over two months on nothing but handwashing, I decided to wash all my clothes in the machine before leaving Morocco to ensure that I headed off to Uganda with wonderfully clean clothes.

Consulting with my flatmates via telephone as to which buttons to push, I tossed in my clothes and measured in the detergent. Shutting the door and walking away all seemed well…

Returning hours later (yes, it takes that long!), I pulled out my clothes in horror, as all my white clothes has been turned into a shade of off color gray! Apparently one of the other shirts in the load hadn’t been washed before and bled all over everything else! I blame the French! It was a French speaking washing machine and I had no idea what all the words by the dials meant. After treating my ‘white’ clothes with every type of bleaching agent in the house, they regained some of their brightness, but are certainly anything but white.

I have decided to stick to handwashing, it is simply safer!

I blame the medication!

After being so sick that I thought I was going to die, or at least be taken to the hospital or air lifted out of the country, I had a lot of time to sit around the house resting and recovering. I had to find something to do to pass the time...

...thankfully I had a computer!

What are you thinking about?
What I would look like if I was a square... 

...seems kinda fishy to me!

...you know its great!

Seriously, with pictures like these, I don't know why I haven't married yet!

A New Addiction

A few nights ago my roommate put on what I thought was a movie and I decided to join her and watch. It turns out that it was actually a tv series entitled Prison Break which is about this guy who is framed by the government and his brother goes to jail to free him… and I can’t give away the plot like that. Anyways, it is an incredibly thrilling and puzzling series that instantly hooked me. Being unable to handle the fact that I was leaving in a few days and might not find it again, I watched the entire rest of the season over the next 3 days!

All I have to say now is, does anyone own Season 2?!?!?

If I Drink It, Will I Explode?

After coming down with a slight head cold it was recommended to me that I should drink green tea. Finding myself at a tea shortage in the house, I set out to search for some this morning. Arriving safely but soaked, sweating constantly is truly not a fashion statement, I made my way through the aisles of air-conditioned Acima in search of a light bulb, sugar and tea. Being 0 for 3 after walking up and down several rows I finally found myself staring down the coffee aisle. Certain that the little square boxes just past the qahwa (coffee in Arabic) contained tea I pressed on and to my shock was met not only by Arabic which I don't understand, French which I don't speak and Chinese which just looks like a bunch of pretty pictures!

Comparing one box to the next I struggled to determine if it was green tea, let alone if it was tea at all. Less than helpful to my search I found these English words printed on several of the boxes...



stunned by this unexpected packaging, I looked on...


trying to hold back the laughter, I began to wonder what must be the only plausible response to such a product... 

Does this mean if I drink it I will explode?  

If the heat outside of one hundred something wasn't bad enough, now there is a tea that contains Extra Gunpowder!  

For some reason I think that this might not exactly be FDA approved!

Not willing to risk it, I decided to go with peach, at least I know what that means in French.

There was actually a very sweet moment to this story, when an older man watching me hold and examen various boxes of tea pulled one off the shelf and in French explained to me that this was the best tea.  Taking his word for it, I thanked him in Arabic and decided to try it out.  At least it didn't have the word 'gunpowder' printed along the side, so I figured I was safe.

30dh Haircut

A little known fact about me… I went to the same hairdresser for 16 years of my life. When I finally switched to someone new I felt like I was cheating on her. Having switched yet again 2 years ago due to financial reasons, I have been faithfully seeing only one lady. Despite the previous changes, I am an incredibly loyal customer, mainly because I trust very few people with my hair (bad haircut in 9th grade, devastating!) Anyways, I went to see her before I left for my global adventure, thinking that if I timed it right I could probably make it seven months before absolutely needing another trim again. However, after a few weeks in Morocco, I knew that I wasn’t going to make it.  

A bit nervous about the prospect of getting my hair cut in a country where I could barely order bread, I hummed and hawed about the idea for nearly 2 months. The decision process extended even further after hearing a friend’s hair cut horror story. I finally came to the conclusion that it would be better to get it done in Morocco than Uganda.  

In what ended up being a spontaneous event, I went to a coiffure (salon) with a Moroccan girl to get it trimmed. Talking to the staff, she set it up so that the most experienced stylist would cut my hair. Then came the wait, the one that lasted for ages and made me question not only my decision, but also if it was even going to happen. When the time finally came I was called into the room and plopped into chair, getting attacked by a spray bottle in the process. Definitely not used to the texture of my hair, it was pulled and yanked quite a bit before she was finally satisfied and the main stylist came over. Confirming once again what I wanted done (in English, thankfully!) we seemed to be in agreement over what I wanted.  

Helplessly watching as giant chunks of my hair hit the floor I kept reminding myself that ‘hair grows’ and this was yet another experience to add to my adventures overseas. Nervous the entire time, he finally finished and then sent in someone else to blow dry my hair. Expecting it to be blown and then brushed out, I just went will the flow, in retrospect that might not have been the best idea. In what officially confirmed the difference in hair textures between me and the typical Moroccan, my hair was eventually transformed into a dry, but thoroughly tangled mess. Brushing out only the front to make it look nice, he left the rest and said “all finished”.
A bit poofy for my taste, I smoothed it down and surveyed the work. It actually turned out fantastically well and despite the shock of seeing large sections fall to the floor, it was still very long and layered. Beautiful!

The best part of it all probably came with the bill. Only 30dh, roughly $4.15 for a haircut! I could certainly get used to this!

Making It Work

If you have ever seen the show Project Runway, then you are most likely familiar with Tim Gunn’s famous saying of “Make it Work.” Living in a foreign land, I often find myself operating under the same mindset. With a multitude of factors all extending far out of your control, you are simply left to make the best of the situation, whatever that might be.
Peering into the fridge each evening, I often begin each expedition with the same sentiments, Make it Work! Lacking one of those new state of the art table tops that produces receipes based upon the ingredients placed on it, I instead plop my option on the counter and say, “let’s see how this tastes.”
The entire Make it Work philosophy becomes even more apparent when I set out to bake in other countries. Lets just say I love to bake, and no amount of strange language, ingredients, or lack of materials will keep me from accomplishing my purposes. In addition to creating the patented staple, the Rice Krispy Treat, I also tend to become fairly adventurous in my baking overseas, continuously finding myself in situations where I am baking new treats for the first time. In Egypt last summer it was Banana Bread, this summer in Morocco it was No Bake Cookies (we didn’t have an oven!). Minus the heat the prevented the cookies from ever fully hardening, the chocolately-peanut butter treats turned out quite nicely.
Here’s to Making it Work!

Making History

What happens when you get two girls together with time to kill when it is too hot to go outside and a computer with no internet…





Yes, we really are THAT amazing!  Gotta love the art that is Making History!

The Softer Side Of Life

At a recent event my roomie was told that overall she was a great catch, but if she really wanted to get married she needed to work on her softer side…

What has now become a bit of a running joke in the house crashed into reality today as she decided it was time that she learned to cook, pancakes!  

Scouring the unfamiliar kitchen I set out to gather up the necessary ingredients. Sugar, flour, butter, eggs, etc, all the usual suspects were there, well, almost. The only flour in the house was a type of grainy corn flour, the vanilla only comes in powdered packets, as did the baking soda. The measurement process was also an experience, with American measuring spoons and a metric measuring cup (or actually it was an old laundry soap scoop thing, but it worked, and at least it was clean. *smile*).

With a team comprised of a Brit, a South African and a Portuguese we were all set to make American pancakes, in Morocco. Seriously, what is more normal than that?!?!?
We quickly got the batter made and I warmed the pan, demonstrating how to check the pancake to know when it was the proper time to flip over. Growing up making pancakes all my life, I had forgotten how much flipping pancakes is an artform… the learning curve was a little tricky at first, but soon they had all picked it up.

Given the entire situation, I was a bit nervous about the pancakes, but amazingly they were not only edible, but also fairly tasty. Next time though, I am going out and buying REAL flour!