Running Update
I finally found a running route that feels relatively safe and has just enough hills to be challenging but not enough to kill my ankle. I’ve started my running app over at Week 3 and I’m hoping I can pick up a little speed this time.
Goals are more likely to be met if you write them down (I don’t know if this is true; it could just be that people who write goals down are also people who are more likely to attain goals – but whatever). So here’s my goal – to be able to run for 60 minutes (continuously) by the time I go home. Ambitious, but semi-attainable; and if I make it 3/4 of the way I’ll be happy.
Here’s the standard protocol I’ve developed for running as safely as possible: keep my music low enough that I can hear someone approach from behind; when I cross paths with someone and no one else is around, keep one hand in my pocket (cue Alanis Morissette song) holding onto my iPhone, smile, wave, say “hi,” make eye contact, and then turn around to check that they keep walking when they pass. (You know, trust but verify.)
I passed this sign today and hadn’t noticed it before. It’s times like this I wish I didn’t have an irrational fear of snakes. Maybe I’ll come back with a local.
Happy’s
Yesterday I felt nauseated as soon as I got to Happy’s. I don’t think I’m getting sick. It was just one of those days where I wasn’t sure I could handle the unwashed and unbandaged open wounds, the kids chewing on trash, and the general dirtiness of the whole situation. It was bad enough outside but once I stepped inside the building, the stagnant air mixed with not-so-appealing smells almost sent me over the edge. I went back out and warned Matt that I might not make it through and then went back in. A few minutes into the lesson I forgot all about it and was fine.
We talked about examples of good and bad friends in the Bible. Still thinking of my little friend who’s been having trouble there, I asked the kids to try to make a new friend this week and to be kind and helpful to each other.
At one point a little Albino boy (probably the politically correct way to say this is “a little boy who has Albinism”) took something out of his mouth and tossed it across the room. Upon a closer gaze I saw that it was gum. I almost didn’t say anything; the rooms and grounds outside frequently have trash and food laying around. I started to go on with the lesson and then decided that letting a peer step in your chewed gum (probably barefoot) was a pretty good definition of not being a good friend. So I asked him to pick it up. He stared at me. I said it again. He continued to stare. Wow, I thought, he’s really going to just ignore me. Then I remembered these are Zulu-speaking kids and had Maxwell interpret. The kid got right out of his seat and picked up the gum. Come to think of it, I don’t recall what he did with it. It’s quite possible it went back in his mouth.
Back to the little girl – she’s had an open wound on her hand for the past two weeks – it looked okay and didn’t seem to be infected, so I just reminded her to keep it clean. This week she also had a mostly-healed wound under her eye from falling on some rocks. That’s one of the hardest things about Happy’s – seeing how they seem to have to just fend for themselves when they’re hurt.
Bro. Charlie (from Australia – Crissie’s dad) went with us yesterday to take some pictures and videos. I noticed this kid playing by the tires of Charlie’s car and went to check it out. He had very expertly lodged a nail up against the tire, so that when Charlie pulled forward he would most likely have gotten a flat.
Our man Teddy, who is usually the first to greet us and the last to leave us, was his usual self as we got in the car – standing by my open door, asking for our phone numbers and telling us how he was looking after the little girl. “I’m looking after three ladies this week,” he told me. Right on, dude.
I asked him to remind me what that girl’s name is and he watched with amusement as I tried to pronounce it, click and all.
“I like your Zulu,” he told me, smiling.
“I like it too,” I said. “I can do this”: I proceeded to perform my best Zulu clicks, to which Teddy dead-panned, “Calling the chickens?”
Funny.
“Okay, Teddy, we gotta shut the door,” I told him.
“Oh, I wanted to talk to him about something,” he motioned toward Bro. Maxwell, who was sitting beside me.
“Oh really? Teddy, here’s a new English word for you – ‘stalling’.”
“Excuse me?”
“Thinking of an excuse not to shut the door,” I told him. “It’s called stalling.”
Sheepish grin.
“That’s ok,” I told him. “I reward creativity. Think of a good enough reason and I’ll give you a minute.”
He came up with something so quickly that I think he must have really had it on his mind. He asked Maxwell in Zulu if he could work with us.
We all kind of hemmed and hawed. I love to throw Americanisms at him so I said, “You can be our eyes and ears on the ground.”
“Excuse?”
Never mind.
We finally worked out that he can help interpret the story I tell next week. He seemed happy. But I saw him silently judge me when I pronounced, “sala kahle” (bye) wrong as we drove away.
[This is a common kind of deformity that is seen at Happy’s.]
African Improvisation
When using an iron as a hand weight (what else would I use it for?), don’t forget to check it for water. When discarding the iron and using an unopened bag of sugar as a hand weight, don’t forget to check it for holes.
In completely unrelated news, if anyone needs nectar for their hummingbird feeder, I can supply it.
Sounds of Africa (It says “right now” – it’s actually a couple of days ago)
There are so many sounds in Africa. It’s never completely silent. If it’s daytime, you hear birds. If it’s nighttime, you hear insects. Both are loud enough for people to hear through Skype when I’m inside my room.
Right now I’m lying in the grass, doing my daily readings on my phone and enjoying the breeze.
I hear the sounds of the maid next door sitting outside on the stairs, clipping her finger nails. Amazing how distinct that sound is; I just glanced over to verify and sure enough, that’s what she’s doing. She’s also got a yucky-sounding cough, but so do I.
From downstairs I hear the sounds of some torturous interaction between Matt and two of the little Australian boys. Sounds like karate chops interspersed with shrieks of pain.
I also hear a frog or cricket or some other non-interesting creature. Then there’s the ever-present call of the hadidas. Right now there’s another bird singing a very distinct rhythm. I won’t try to replicate it but it’s cool. Okay I will – do DOO do-do-do-do, do DOO do-do-do-do. There it is. You feel like you’re in Africa right now, don’t you?
Occasionally I hear the wind blow a leaf or a tree branch and I jump and assume I’m about to be eaten by a black mamba. A dog barks, followed by the sound of another scream from downstairs. Okay, I’ve got to go check that out.
I discovered what they were doing was a combination of watching unfortunate sports mishaps and beating each other. As Matt wrestled with the 6-year-old, his 8-year-old brother and I sat there watching. “Do you want me to beat you up?” I finally asked him, casually. “Yes!” he replied excitedly, throwing himself on top of me for torture to commence. I was happy to comply.
I spent about 20 minutes trying to capture the hadida’s sound and finally got a pretty good sample. It’s by far my favorite sound in Africa.
Friday Morning COPT Meeting
Every Friday morning at 7:30, we have a Community Outreach Program Trust (COPT) meeting. This means waking up at 7:23, leaving my room at 7:25, and driving 5 minutes to the Blewetts’ house, where the meeting is held, over coffee and snacks. I enjoy these meetings, despite the early hour. It’s great to be in an environment focused on outreach, where issues are discussed in a positive way with biblical concepts at the forefront. I always come away inspired by the all the potential that exists.
John 4:35 – “…Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.”
Getting Keys (I’m Out of Creative TItles)
The other day I walked to the Westville Mall to get an extra set of keys made for the new Clermont building. I got a good taste of South African roadside construction as I navigated broken chunks of sidewalk and narrowly dodged an unmarked hole that dropped 5 or 6 feet.
Back to the keys – we use those old-fashioned ones that are kind of cool looking – I’m sure they have a name, but I don’t know it. I was wondering how long it would take to get copies and what the process would be like, since they’re a lot different than the keys I’m used to. Turns out there was no process. They just looked at the number and handed me a key to match. That must come in really handy for people who just want to buy one of each and keep trying until they find the one that fits your door. Oh well, I guess that’s what the security gates are for.
Thankfulness
Nov. 8 – Not picking and choosing what to be thankful for today. It’s all good. Rom. 8:28 – “…all things work together for good…”
Nov. 9 – I’m thankful for my mommy, who for some reason is always awake when I wake up, even though it’s the middle of the night in Arkansas. I don’t know if she has intentionally arranged her sleeping habits to correspond with mine or if she’s just way too addicted to Candy Crush – but I almost always get a Facebook message from her as soon as I log on. It just says “Hi,” and then apparently she falls asleep by the time I respond.
[I think she was being weird on purpose…I can never tell.]
In the continuing trend of monkey pictures, I stumbled upon this – it’s me in 30 years:
Matt just appeared at my window to tell me the American store I was hoping to go to today (a place I keep hearing about that is my only possible hope of getting a Dr. Pepper on this continent) closed at noon.
Instead he suggested, “I was thinking we could go to the mall.”
“Ok,” I pretended to be excited.
“To get a chair,” he continued.
Oh, this is a work trip…
“And, you know, to see Thor.”
I guess I can live with that.
Next Comes Africa 