Takin' It to the Streets

I'm in a place I never thought I would be. And I'm not talking about geography. I knew I was coming to Burundi, but it's one of those journeys where no matter how much you try to prepare yourself, there's no way to know what's coming or what you're leaving. In a way, it's a Habakkuk 1:5 promise: "I am doing something in your own day that you wouldn't believe even if you were told." Because God is good, I am trusting that this journey is good, despite some of its hardships and sacrifices that have been made. Here is a story about a gem I found along the way.

It has to do with children. I know this lady here, who is like the Heidi Baker of Burundi, except her name is Astrid Withrow. If you haven't heard of either of those ladies, go look them up and be inspired. She's been teaching me lots about how Jesus sees children--that children are the greatest in the kingdom--that we need to humble ourselves to be like them. Here's the basis:

Jesus called a little child to him and put the child among them. Then he said, "I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven. So anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven.

He goes on to say that,

"Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf is welcoming me. But if you cause one of these little ones who trusts in me to fall into sin, it would be better for you to have a large millstone tied around your neck and be drowned in the depths of the sea."

That's quite the passionate statement about protecting children. And why does Jesus identify himself with children, but not pastors or presidents or anyone else with an important title? Why is it that Jesus is so concerned with us being like kids, and why is he so dang-gum protective of their spirits?

Beware that you don't look down on any of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels are always in the presence of my heavenly Father.

So, the jist: Welcoming children equals welcoming Jesus. Well, I'm okay with Jesus showing up. You cause them to walk away from me, you may as well be drowned. And whatever you do, don't discount what children have to offer. As much as we think their minds can't build into a society, Jesus says we are to be like them.

Do you think the statement is harsh? That it's better to be drowned than to lead a child away from Jesus? I think society has taught us that's harsh. I think we've tried to make ourselves feel better and say that verse applies to kidnappers, pedifiles, and murderers. But in truth, we've really screwed our kids over.

Think about our school system. All schools in America may or may not be this way, but each year as I taught in the slums, my justice meter was flying off the charts! Where should I start? Class size? The limitless expectations for teachers to be the mom, the pyschologist, the doctor, the main disciplinarian, AND the educator? The fact that my classroom had a $2000 smartboard in it, yet my school had to cut 5 teachers the year I got it? The fact that I had kids threatening to kill one another and nothing was done about it by the administration? Not to rant, it's just the facts. It's the main background from which I have to draw my experiences.

What about our media? What about the fact that we bombard kids with sex, witchcraft, and commericalism? In my classroom, I literally had students that could not self-express when they were unhappy because the biggest relationship they had at home was with their computer or their videogame where they blow up other people and steal cars. Introspection was lost, much less relating to other people. We're letting technology and the latest Twilight film raise our children and youth.

I admit, I too have forgotten that this part of our culture is unacceptable in the Kingdom of God. The culture has become "so normal" and so overwhelming, I've slunk back on trying to make a difference. The weight of the injustice was too much to handle. Instead I've come to another slum to try to continue my passions. Yet again and again, I find that every country has their injustices. Despite the ridiculous corruption, danger, and poverty of Burundi, I am learning to do anything. ANYTHING. Doing anything helps. Doing nothing hurts. Someone once said that, "When you say a situation or a person is hopeless, you are slamming the door in the face of God." I believe that statement.

So what have I done with Astrid's teaching? Well, Astrid does what she calls "Power Clubs" with children here in Burundi. In a country with a population of 8.5 million people, 50% of whom are children, showing children Jesus is our only hope. Power Clubs show children the power of Christ. They put back in all the uncomfortable things that Jesus does like teaching others about God, self, healing the sick, praying, etc., and present opportunites where children are invited to be like Jesus. After we learned the why, we learned about the what, when, how, etc., then we went out into the villages and found kids.

We traveled through the mud, the cows, the lines of wet laundry, heaps of rubbish, and crossed a river. As we walked, the little eyes that once peered at us from a doorway and window frame were now with us. A bright girl named Francesca wearing one white(ish) sandal introduced herself to me and held my hand as we walked to an open space to play some games. As the games progressed, around 30 children gathered with adults watching all around. Joy and glee spread deep as love and attention was shared. Dancing, singing, and shouting to the Lord quickly followed which led into a time of worship. Then we shared with the children the message of Christ. This part is my favorite because it is so relational to children. First,we asked them about anything bad they had done. They confessed things like hitting their brother, lying, etc. One of the leaders put her hands in the mud and tried to shake the hands of the children. Squealing,

laughing, and hiding were the appropriate responses. "This is what our heart looks like when we've done bad things," said the leader. "No matter how hard we try to rub it off, we need Jesus to make our hearts clean," she said as she poured water over her hands. A simple illustration, and many more understand the power and salvation of Christ. We've gotten in their heads, but He's gotten in their hearts.

After some children prayed to accept Christ as their Savior, we told them about the authority Christ gives us. If Jesus lives in us, we are to live the way Jesus did. One of the things Jesus did was he prayed for the sick and saw them healed. To illustrate this concept, we wrapped a blanket representing Jesus around a child. Another child with a homemade "crutch" came up to him. The child, with the authority of Jesus said, "Gukira mwizina rya Yesu." (Be healed in Jesus's name.) The kid threw off the crutch and danced. After seeing what the abstract would look like concrete, we called forth anyone who was sick, and the children prayed. Confessions of healing followed. Then a lady from our team asked for prayer. Of course this was all in Kirundi so I wasn't sure what was going on, but later she shared testimony of having felt something go out of her when the children prayed. Well, for a lady whose been diagnosed with breast cancer, that's a

pretty big stinkin' deal. It was a wonderful time, and I don't take me being a part of it for granted.

Since that time, I have been implementing Power Clubs in my classroom. (That's one of the freedoms of working at a Christian school in Burundi. Whoohoo!) The kids have really taken to it. They are learning about the love of the Lord in a way that makes sense to them. There is an overall higher level of happiness in the classroom this week. I'm excited to see where it all goes. Astrid says that societies are changing in Burundi thanks to some of the Power Clubs her organization has started. In one village, there were reports of 80 murders per week. Since a regular Power Club has started, there are only 2 murders per week. They have seen blind people, lame people, deaf people, and sick people healed. Children are even improving in school now having been set free in Christ. They have seen food multiplied five times. I don't know what will happen. All I'm doing is saying yes. And waiting expectantly.

*All scripture is from Matthew 18.

Sharing simple truths with village kids.

Welcome Team.

I think the whirlwind is finally over. The past two weeks have been hectic busy, but some really wonderful things have happened as well.

Two weeks ago, we received a team of five from North Carolina at the school. There's much pitter-patter of the heart that takes place when a team comes. Firstly, you want to be ready for them. You want to make sure that everything is well arranged and that all goes smooth. The next pitter-patter comes with not knowing what the team will be like. Some short-term teams come with their own agenda. Some are demanding. Some are unwilling to bend as necessary to the culture. Some are a relief to send home. Here's one example of what I mean:

The team: "We're going to build an orphanage or some sort of building that will make us feel like good people. (the good people part implied)"

What really happens: Not much. Burundians don't want a part of something they haven't had a hand in. Bam. A nice building goes up, and there's no ownership of it. In fact, many Burundians may be upset because the team has taken away jobs of builders in a country with an 80% unemployment rate. The country is ALL about community and relationships, so this prior mindset doesn't work.

If the Burundians have asked a team to come build something and that's the need, then that's fine and dandy, and that team probably really is doing something great with their time. All I'm saying is, American culture doesn't always work in other places. The best way to help is to come and say to the people, "What do you need?" A lot of times we forget that our way isn't necessarily the best way for everyone.

I used to struggle with the idea of short-term mission trips for these reasons. I used to wonder why people didn't just send the money they would have used on a plane ticket to the place, and feed oh say about 100,000 mouths instead. (Not exaggerating, yes, money goes that far here in many cases.) In my little human mind, I thought the money would go further than the people and their time. But now having come here three times total, I guess you could say I've finally changed my mind.

Here's why: The first time I came, I was working with Youth for Christ, a wonderful organization geared towards raising up children and youth that will be leaders led by Christ in a nation that has been stricken with war and genocide over the past couple of decades. But if I'm really honest, me being here probably did not make that much of a difference, well, at least in Burundi. In fact, I probably didn't change any Burundians' lives even half as much as they changed mine. (If you've ever come to Burundi or gone on a short-term mission trip, you're probably either laughing or nodding because you know exactly what I'm talking about.) Seeing the struggles and lives of Burundians is incredibly humbling and will put you on your knees quick. Seeing their

dependency and love for the Lord were the biggest effects they had on me that first visit.

The second time I came, same thing. I mean, you could say I taught some English classes to people, and made a difference with their connecting to the East African community, but still again, my effect on their lives versus their effect on mine? Forgive the cheese, but it was priceless. So that pretty much throws the money factor out the window.

In the end, I've decided that God is the big banker of the world, and He can handle finances. If he wants to take people half way across the world to change their lives and pay thousands of dollars to do it, He can. He's God. It's got this one under control.

I'm head-over-heels grateful that I am someone God has allowed these experiences here. And I trust that He's good, He's for humanity (not against them), and He's going to do a much better job of taking care of them than my donations of time or money or whatever I'm offering ever can (not that those things are useful too.) He's about relationships and journeys, and He doesn't work the way we people work. I get the sense that He's a lot more about the heart than he is the green.

"My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts," says the Lord. "And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9 (NLT)

Something to chew on...so back to this team. Capital F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S. (Don't even try to sing that like Fergie because I already tried, and it doesn't work.)

They came, they received, they listened, they loved.

They were humbled.

They changed.

They grew.

Incredible.

If you want to know what happened, get out your midnight oil because this is my longest blog entry yet.

The first day when a team comes is all about cultural adjustment. Just arriving in Burundi--the chaotic traffic, men biking with mattresses strapped down, women carrying logs on their heads and babies on their back, the massive amounts of dust, the constant shouting of "Mzungu, Mzungu," encountering beggars with missing limbs, hearing the language, the busyness of the city, etc.--all after a two day plane ride (that's how long it takes to get here from the States), most people just need some Fantas, a nice plastic chair, and a smiling face to welcome them. Burundi itself is enough on its own.

Once the team got adjusted, they came down to the school each day and loved on the teachers and kids--teaching them different Bible lessons, sports, crafts, etc. One guy even brought an American football which the kids had never seen before. The afternoons brought different adventures.

Our first adventure (second day) was to go to one of the teacher's houses from school to take Fantas. (Side: Fantas is a general term for all sodas. . .kinda like how lots of people in the South call sodas Coke, even if it's a Pepsi. It's a sign of community and brings people together even if they don't have enough money to feed food to the other person.) The teacher's name was Patrick, and we listened to his amazing story. Here's the jist: Patrick's dad died when he was younger. When the war started, the only person to take care of him was his uncle who was in the rebel soldier army. So Patrick lived in the bush for two years, until he was able to go to a refugee camp in the city. He wanted to join the army, but his uncle persuaded him to go back to school and get an education. Thankfully, Patrick did just that which allowed him to get a job at Discovery School. In the meantime, Patrick's mother married a true genuine witch doctor (very common here) because he made enough money to feed the family. This marriage was devastating to Patrick, one, because it split his family in their religious beliefs (Patrick's a Christian), and two, because Patrick had to endure the persecution of his stepfather: "Where's your God? Why can't your God provide this food? Some God you worship." Eventually Patrick was able to save up enough money to afford a small mud house on the compound the school is on and leave. He may have left in body, but he did not leave in spirit. He is still the breadwinner for his entire family (extended as well) at this point, even though they only eat one meal a day, thanks to his job at Discovery School. He also managed to build his sister a small one room house (i.e. buy the bricks and build it himself) who is a single mom of six children. He's currently going to a Burundian university to get higher education, and in turn, have more opportunities to provide for his family. His mother tells him if he can be the sole provider for the family, she will leave her witch doctor husband and believe that God is who he says He is through Patrick's provision.

Patrick, a man who lives on faith

The third day, we went to another teacher's house, Annociate, to get a glimpse into Burundian life, and to be fed a delicious homemade Burundian meal. We hiked up the steep and muddy hills in the rain until we arrived. Overall, the trip took about an hour from the school. To think, this lady climbs up and down this hill everyday to come to work, even when she was 8 months pregnant! The physical strength and endurance of Burundians puts the rest of the world to shame! It was incredibly touching to experience this lady's hospitality and openness. I was shocked at the feast that was prepared--rice, beans, lingalinga (greens), fried bananas, fish, goat, peas, kasava bread, and fries. I know it wasn't easy trekking that food up the hill and cooking for that many people. But that's just it! Many Burundians love so well. Being as poor as they are, relationships and love are of utmost importance. I imagine that's why no one comes to Burundi and leaves unchanged. I'm more and more convinced that love is the most powerful tool we have to help people. Easy for the brain to believe, hard for everything else to follow I suppose. Food, community, singing, prayer, a view of the city from the top! We fully enjoyed it all.

A homemade feast is upon us!

View from the top of Bujumbura

The fourth day, the teachers and I took the team to a giant tea plantation about an hour up the road. It was a time of really faith-building conversations in the bus with the Burundian teachers and a time to take in the amazing scenery of Burundi. It was a bit less intense as far as seeing the lives of Burundians, but it was a necessary and fruitful time of the Mzungus (myself included) processing and giving feedback on what they'd seen and heard thus far. I absolutely loved

hearing their conversations because it was obvious that hearts were changing and being humbled to better serve the Lord our God. I heard things like, "Wow. I can't believe the sense of self-

entitlement I've bought into.", "I had no idea the power I have to make a difference in Burundi with a simple donation.", or "I don't even know what it means to rely on God. There's always food in my fridge, there's doctors when I'm sick, there's a car when I need to go somewhere. I need to learn how to rely on God for my daily bread." It's really hard not to change the way you feel about the world when you've taken in the stories and seen the lives that Burundians live. I admit myself, I never get used to the rawness of life here. It truly is buhorobuhoro--day by day.

Some teachers from school, the team and myself

snapping a quick pic at the tea field in the rain

The fifth day was really special because we went to my co-teacher's house, Ismael. I've gotten to work with this man since my first week in Burundi, so I was really excited to meet his six siblings and big mama. He also shared his story about how God spared their lives in the war. That night, the team finished off with an amazing drum show, many thanks and prayer, and farewell dinner. What an encouraging group!

Can't you hear the sounds when you look at this picture?

That weekend was my birthday and I decided to go with the teachers upcountry to visit the house of my principal, Lucien, and welcome his new baby into the world--kind of a Burundian version of a baby shower after the baby is born. I didn't tell anyone it was my birthday because that's not my thing, but I knew it would be a fun day, and that was enough for me. Fantas, rice and beans galore, singing, dancing, and throwing a baby up and down. Yep, that's a Burundian shower for you. In a country with a life expectancy of 45, they sure do know how to celebrate life.

Lucien, his wife, and new baby boy!

Just soaking it all in. Oh yeah, and I did eventually get to celebrate my birthday at beautiful Lake Tangynika. Fantas please!

Mangoes, Motos, and Birthdays

It's only been 20 days since I've last written, but it seems like it's been 6 months. The days are just slow here. If I think about how long I am here for total, my insides start freaking out because I can't handle it. I literally have to take life here day by day. When I tell people I live in Africa, they tell me, "Wow! That must be so cool!" Yeah, sure. I wake up in a basket of mangoes everyday while giraffes gently fan me with banana leaves. Living in the third poorest country in the world is "cool?" Well sure, if you don't count crazy traffic, electricity and water outages, 90 degree temperatures without AC, roosters that don't know day from night, finding lizard droppings in the corners of your room, the constant shouting of "Muzungu! Muzungu!" anytime you leave the house (Yes, I actually had one man block my path by laying on the ground and doing push-ups to impress me once), the scarce internet, Somali terrorist threats, the daily language barriers, the rocks in my rice, and the constant dust in my lungs, Burundi is alright. I do enjoy the incredible sunsets, meeting ex-pats from all over the world, Burundians' amazing hospitality and willingness to help you when you need it, mango season, learning African worship songs, Coca-Cola in a bottle, being surrounded gorgeous Burundian mountains on one side of me and Congolese mountains on the over, and the view of Lake Tanganyka (sans crocs and hippos).

Eeeee!!!

Ahhh . . . .

My list of things I like may not be as long as the hard things yet, but they definitely weigh heavier. The best thing is still my kids--Oh how glorious to actually like my job. So enough griping already. I have way more stuff than most Burundians--three meals a day, a roof over my head (that doesn't leak when it rains), a bed to sleep in, more than two outfits. . . . Overall, I'm in pretty good shape.

Speaking of having things...another luxury item is in the works, help of Jake and Jan. I take taximotos everywhere which is fun, but it's also quite fatalistic as the roads here are a videogame with only one life. So as motos are fun in the States, where there's lanes, stop lights, um, and laws, the only law in Burundi is don't get killed. It makes my heart race sometimes, and not like the way it does when viewing a film with Matthew McConaheyyyy. It's quite treacherous. I get nervous. I know I don't have to remind God to keep me alive or anything, but it's a good thing He doesn't hold it against me when I do. Because I do. a lot.

So the luxury item. . .[insert Michael Scott drumroll here please]...a car! It's fastantically and fabulously ghetto. (I told you me being black is debatable.) No rims (they don't have those here), but I am decked out in silver stickers, including one that goes across the windshield that says "No God, no life." Nice. The seat erupts dust whenever I sit down or move, the handbrake is broken (hopefully soon to be fixed), and the driver's seat no longer has a back (hopefully that will be fixed too). So it's basically a piece of metal set on top of wheels--all I need for dese screets! I'm learning to drive it. I know how to drive an automatic, but Chobani (a friend of the family) is teaching me to drive a stick shift. This feat is interesting because not only do I have to learn stick, I'm learning to drive in Burundi. Did I mention my teacher, Chobani,

only speaks Kirundi and Kishahili? Please donate all prayers daily, thanks.

My new wheels . . .ohhh yeah.

In other news, it was Jan's birthday this past week. Whoohoo! I get way more excited about birthdays here because like I said, this is a country where death is a part of daily life. If you make it another year, that's to be celebrated! The Burundians often start their morning prayers with "Imana yacu, turagushimiye kuko watuzigamiye kugez'uyu musi" which means "Our God, we thank you for protecting us until today." Each day of life is another miracle from the Lord. Nice to remember, eh?

So back to the birthday: As I said earlier, one of my daily adventures here is figuring out how to get from place to place. I knew exactly the gift I wanted to get Jan, but I had no idea where the place was when I visited last, nor how I was going to get there. I could take my chances, and tell the taxi moto in my broken Kirundi, "There's a shop. . . somewhere. . . with green gates. . . near another building that's blue. . . wanna take me?" Firstly, I'm sure the English would definitely fly (note sarcasm). Secondly, they'd probably charge me a "muzungu price" (the "I'm rich so I can afford anything" stigma that comes with having white skin here), and third of all, even if I did get on the bike, I wouldn't even know where to direct. So I just said, "Lord, I need to go to that shop by Friday so please just get me there." Well what happens Friday, but Jan goes into town to do some errands. I hop in the car just to see the whereabouts. Jan gets dropped off, and where do we end up but next to the shop I wanted to go to! It's the little things here, people, the little things. So I go in, negociate, and come out with a gift I'd seen Jan eyeing and talking about a few weeks earlier. . .placemats. You're welcome. I didn't want to keep you in such suspense any longer. Did I mention it's the little things that go a long way? The woman wanted some placemats so placemats it is. And on top of that (yes, I'm tooting my own horn), I did the whole negociating process in Kirundi:

Me: "Ndashaka ca." (I would like these.)

Vendor: "20,0000 FBU."

Me: "Oyaaa! Urubiramzimvye!" (Nooo, too expensive)

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth again.

Vendor: "Ok, Uri Murundian. 14,000 FBU." (Ok, fine. You are Murundian (a mix of Muzungu and Burundian). 14,000 = good price).

Me: "Ego." (Yes.) (By the way, "ego" is pronounced just like the commercial that says "Leggo my Ego." It's true. For the first two weeks I'd learned that word, all of could think was that when people asked me if I was well, I was just telling them "Waffle.")

The Voice In My Head: "It's about time learning this crazy language pays off! No more white people prices!!!!"

Obstacles overcome! Thank you Lord (totally by His providence we even drove by that hole-in-the-wall anyway), and mission accomplished!

So that's life lately--beautiful ups-and-downs and crazy spin-arounds.

God Is Big.

A new month brings new season...again. Change is consistent here in terms of growing and learning how to live here...it's almost like you never quite get there unless you grew up here. There's always something you can get better at...the language, bargaining for taxi moto rides, figuring out cultural differences and how to respect those boundaries....

Anyway, a lot happened this week. We had our first full week where it felt like a routine had actually settled which was really nice. Some kind of normalcy. A bit o' comfort. I really enjoyed my students this week. Alvin, my student teacher for the month, has come so far since the beginning as well. I like that he thinks for himself and tries to come up with new ideas for future lessons.

We started doing phonics lessons this week. The kids were seriously SO good at it. They were able to figure out most letters and the sounds they make which is HUGE. It's crazy how quick childrens' minds mold and shape. Double-edged sword. But in my case, I LOVE IT. I also got to teach them about the solar system--planets, the sun, the moon. They were CRAZY about it! And a funny thing was at first, I didn't even have any real photographs of the planets--I just drew some out on a large piece of paper. Then turns out, someone had left Zeke a video of computer graphic/real satellite images of planets that I was able to show my students. What my students said: YOOOOO!!!! (Yo = anything that should end with an exclamation mark: e.g. "Yooo, that smell is rank!", "Yooo, that motobike is cool!", "Yooo, that girl just slipped on the mud and smashed her face in a puddle!") They had never even seen or heard of outer space before. Totally new concept. And how cool is it that they not only get to see (kinda) how big our universe is, but also how big our Creator is who made it all! God spoke to me through it all as well. I heard a podcast this week that was brought from the States a thought about Job challenging the Lord and the Lord's response to what Job had to say:

"Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me, if you know so much. Who determined its dimensions and stretched out the surveying line? What supports its foundations, and who laid its cornerstone as the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?" Job 38:4-7 NLT

I know I'm white (debatable) but, YO! Job just got served. The pastor said God's part like this:

"These stars I've created...you have a picture of them from a satellite. Me, I've been holding these things together since the beginning of time, and you think I'm gonna let YOU go?"

I'm thinking a response to that takes care of itself. No more to be said.

A fun story to end with:

Something else funny also happened this week. I have a few students, mainly boys, who I like to call "umuguruguru" (say that five times fast) which translates as cheeky monkey, mischieveous, that kind of thing. One day, when our classes were switching this week, the children were giving me high fives before they left. One kid decided to be an umuguruguru and jet his hand away as I went to slap it. So the next time he put his hand up, I grabbed it, pulled him close and made kissy noises next to his cheek. Intent: fun for me and humiliating to him. (What a good teacher I am.) All the other kids thought I was seriously kissing this child and got all excited that the muzungu lady thinks it's okay to kiss her students. Before I know it, Queen G. Love (yes, that's her real name) has walked right over and planted one on the side of my face. Thanks to Queen, they just kept coming. Kiss Kiss Kiss, and asking for one in return. Welcome to the world of Snow White and her dwarves, right? It was all quite sweet, and I believe they actually meant it. What a change from the political correctness of teaching in the oh-so-litigious States! I now have one student, Gabin, God bless his little ADHD self, who insists on getting kisses coming to and from class. He's the only one who still kept it up the next day. I'm okay with it. God just bless those germy little mouths (not in the Southern way--I mean it!) that like to stick everything in them including things found on the ground and keep all sickness away!

These are some of my umugurugurus. Pretty cute, huh?

Bok-bok!

Just for some humor . . . recess time. Never be surprised at what happens here.

H20 = LIFE

Ahhh...the sound of sweet rain. So long-awaited.

In three days I will have officially been here for one month. I'm thinking the adjustment time is coming to a close. Things are starting to be figured out, and a routine is forming which I kind of like. Sometimes. It's a completely different world than the one from which I came. One of the greatest differences I've noticed so far. . .WATER.

A serious necessity. It's just now turned to wet season. Before that, it was dry season for several months. I've been to Burundi twice before and spent entire summers here. Never have I seen a drop. Everything changes when there's no rain:

Change No. 1--Electricity

The electricity here is hydroelectric, hence, leaving you in a guessing game as to whether or not it will stay on as you try to take a shower (no fun in the dark), write emails, etc. Sometimes businesses are affected and can no longer be as efficient. (Except for that Chinese restaurant I ate at one time in the dark. They kept cooking by candlelight. Only took them two hours to bring me some sweet and sour chicken. Well, in Burundi, I say it's worth it.)

Change No. 2--Faucets

Sometimes you turn a knob on the faucet, and nothing comes out. Suddenly, little tasks--washing your hands, taking a pill, waiting to wash your clothes whilst hoping the water comes back within two days because there's only two more clean pair of panties in your drawer--all become much bigger. Hm. Maybe this is why Jesus compares salvation to water and says, "Is anyone thirsty? Come and drink!*" instead of comparing it with electricity: "Does anyone need a shock or the internet or televisions? Come and browse!" Yeah...just not quite the same thing. Life here puts a whole new meaning to the words "living water." Needless to say, everything takes more time and energy here. It's quite a provincial lifestyle sometimes.

Change No. 3--I think we call this one an epidemic.

Unfortunately, it gets worse. Since water provides sanitation, there has been a cholera outbreak in the country. Just in August, there were 245 cases of it and 7 deaths. Wow. I wonder what the news would say if this epidemic was happening in the States. I wonder how many days the newcasters would talk about it and if it would make world news. Today I went online to check the news and discovered that the most popular read headline on usatoday.com was "ESPN's Jaworski curses live on Monday Night Football." Whomp whomp whomp. Is this issue really what we care about America? I'm glad for the rawness of this place. It forces people to live urgently.

Change No. 4--Me

So there's not much I can do about water issues here, except grow those young minds in my classroom so that one day maybe they can do something about it. I've relented just to be thankful for the water when it is here and to go with the flow (still deciding if that pun was intended). Anyway, I'm going to go lie in my bed now and listen to the rain.

*Isaiah 55:1 in case you were wondering.

First Day!

Today was the day that I got to meet Jesus Mary Laurette, Saint Augustine, and Queen G. Love! All the students were such a delight to teach! They are trying their best to learn English and are excited to have a "muzungu" teacher! (muzungu=white person; It is not uncommon for people, especially children, to shout at you, "Muzungu, Muzungu!" on the street because they are excited to see a white person. For the most part, they know that if you are a rare white person in Burundi, you are probably here to help the country, and they welcome our help.) Anyway, these pictures tell it best:

The students are excited to have their picture taken as not many Burundians have cameras.

Lyse Bernice, the precious girl who led us in the Lord's Prayer at the end of the school day.

Happy to learn and be at school!

Livin' the Dream

I am sitting in my room right now, listening to John play the piano downstairs, three kids laughing and rub-a-dub-dubbing in a tub across the hall, and watching an African sunset go down outside my wIndow. I am soaking in how blessed am I that God has taken me to this place and to this season. I am no longer in a drought. The rain has come.

Dreams have been a recurrent thought in my mind this week. Big dreams, dreams unaccomplished, dreams unavailable....I have seen all three in the time that I have been here. For example, the director of the school and the wonderful lady I live with, Jan, has amazing dreams that inspire--already, a school for the deaf has been built on our compound. It is the only school for the deaf in the entire country. Jan and John help facilitate having teachers for the school. They have made that dream come true and are changing so many lives. Another dream Jan has is to train a Burundian in speech therapy. For that, she would need someone willing to come for about a year and pass on the knowledge to a local Burundian so that that Burundian can be self-sufficient once the trainer leaves. In a country where needs as obvious as starvation and AIDS exist, Jan desires to meet the needs of people who can not speak, and give them the gift of a voice. It hasn't happened yet. But I'm so inspired by her faith that it will...She loves the big and the small. She does it hard and well. It challenges me to contemplate how well I spend my days here on this earth loving God's people that He created. . . .

There are also dreams that may never come true due to the preexisting conditions of the country and circumstances beyond one's control. For example, I had a dear friend share with me his desire to go to a university in Canada and study political studies and sociology. He wants to learn about these subjects, as well as improve his English, and make a difference not only in Burundi but in the East African Community. The desire of his heart is good and desperately needed, but the means to get there seemingly impossible. It would cost him $8,000 a semester at the university, not to mention a plane ticket and housing costs. This is a dream that may or may not come true, but the odds aren't stacked pretty.

How I am in this place, I can only thank God. For me, it is a dream come true. It did not come easy, and many sacrifices were made, but I am here, living out the story that I believe God has written for me. My favorite response from my past entries said the following:

"You are definitely living a life that reflects the fact that you believe in the story of Christ. You're an example to follow. I know that I probably won't end up in Burundi as a 2nd grade teacher as I try to follow God's story for me, but being a part of your life as you are doing this does motivate/encourage me to pursue His story for me. Try not to let all that go to your head."

I am realizing more each day, that I have the power to make people's dreams come true here.

It.

is.

absolutely.

cool.

I'm inspired, anxious, challenged, and excited all at the same

time. I know the pages God has written for me will reveal themselves in time. My story is about to get interesting.

Picture on top: Well, a pretty sweet Burundian sunset.

Picture on bottom: Some teachers at the school learning new strategies.

Not So Humble Beginnings

So here I am, in Burundi...never knowing what to expect. Will we have hot water? Sometimes. Will we have water? Sometimes. What about electricity? If the government feels like turning it on. Those are all typical situations in Burundi that I've dealt with before. What I've really been itching to know is what my school is like where I'm teaching. The only schools I've seen here in the past have had dirt floors, no windows (i.e. the holes are there, the glass is not), desks, chairs, and a giant chalkboard.

I'm lucky that the school I work at is right on my compound where I live. Just an overall safer feeling than walking in the streets of the city. Most everyone knows the family I'm staying with here because they have lived here for so long and built most of the buildings on the mission (aka the compound). I live with the director of the school, Jan*, her husband, John, and their three kiddos--Zeke (6), Mike (3), and Elijah (11 months). It's nice living with them because I get the inside scoop on most things that I wouldn't get otherwise (especially since John grew up here.) They started the school about six years ago. When it was first built, enrollment was 80 students. Now, they've added grades all the way up to Maternelle (Preschool) through Second, the grade I'll be teaching, and enrollment is at 500! It's one of the better schools in the country and probably the cheapest private school parents can send their children to. (Other schools

can be about $120/month while this school is only about $20/month). The school also gives job opportunity to grow and salaries to many Burundians who would otherwise maybe not have one (Burundi has an 80% unemployment rate). I like that it builds into the future, allowing these students to have real jobs one day, (i.e. a banker as opposed to standing in a field all day watching goats) and that these jobs that will build back into the country's economy and in turn impact the country as a whole. I really like the role Jan has given me because well, in her words, "it will have exponential impact." (YES.)

Here's a more specific jist of what I'm doing: I'll be teaching the languages arts in English for grade P3 (second grade) and tag teaming science/math with another teacher on my team. Whoa...and I'm the only teacher in school to get an assistant! (Thank God...I'll have 41 kids!...but mostly not all at one time.) The reason I get an assistant is because I will be training that person...so they come, observe, partake, and implement the strategies and techniques of an American teacher into their classrooms. I will get a new assistant every couple of weeks so that each teacher has a chance to learn some strategies to make his/her classroom better. We're not trying to Americanize the school, but simply take what's good from America, and combine it with what's good from Burundi. So some of the main strategies I'll be teaching is classroom management (It exists in a whipping stick here..or they'll tell the child they are going to be eaten by a wild animal if they don't behave), implementing things like read-alouds, more hands on activities, a word wall for vocabulary...things we simply take for granted in the US. Most schools in Burundi are simply lecture and notes, even in first grade. (I never would have made it as a Burundian child...I simply wrote way too slow and got distracted way too easily.) It is really exciting to me that even when I leave, these teachers that stay will have tremendously improved as professionals that will keep impacting class after class! Whoohoo!!

Teacher training starts next week, which I will help direct with Jan. In the meantime, I've just been setting up my classroom--making nametags for desks (Jan says they have probably never had those before), a reading corner, etc.

So a bit o' humor to close...I got my student roster yesterday with all my lovely children's names on it. A little background to know is that Burundians like to name their children a bit like Native Americans once did...except instead of naming them Walking Cloud or Warrior Lion, they name them things that have to do with God's love. Let me just fill you in on this cultural difference..some of my favorites (i.e. funniest) were "Queen G. Love," G standing for God, "J.M. Laurette," J and M standing for Jesus Mary...yes,her full name is "Jesus Mary Laurette," "Saint Augustin," (What if he's not a saint? Do I still have to refer to him as Saint Augustin or just Augustin?), and the grandest name of all "Mac Alysie Dan du Ciel" which literally translates as "Grand Alysie In Of the Sky." (Hmm, maybe her parents didn't know French as well as

they thought they did.) All these, contrasted with the most ordinary of names, Billy Bob. I think his parents and I will get along just fine....

Some prayer requests:

• continued health (allergies seem to love it here)
• safety on the roads
• the start of the school year, that teachers and students would take to this foreigner lady well, and that we would learn well from each other

*All names have been changed in case you're my stalker.

Pictures:

Far left: A sign for my school

Middle: My classroom is the one in the middle. It's not your typical building because these were bought for a cheaper price from the UN instead of building one.

Bottom: my room; note mosquito net tucked in :o)

Back to Big B

I leave in 6 days. Freaking out? Well, a little. But not really. Going to Burundi long-term is something I've wanted for quite a few years now. Yeah, so in case you don't have the whole picture yet, this blog is about living as a teacher/missionary in Burundi, Africa. Most people haven't heard of Burundi, so here's a bit o' history. Many people have heard of Rwanda from the movie Hotel Rwanda...Burundi is right below it and has a similar history. The two countries used to be one country,but Burundi gained its independence in the 60s, so a baby country it is. Since that time, here's been incredible strife between two of the tribes, leading to a massive genocide in 1993 and a civil war that lasted from 1993 to 2005. The war killed about 300,000 people--not a small number for a country the size of Maryland. Left over is the obvious--agony, distrust, an overall tension amongst people groups, and LOADS of children without parents. My friend Simon who has lived in Burundi the past ten years sums up Burundi better than I can with the first video on this website: greatlakesoutreach.org.

So children...that's where I come in. I've been a school teacher for the past three years. God has given me a heart that ticks to educate. I like the way Nelson Mandela nails it: "Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world." That's the goal folks, one child at a time. To be brief about my last year in public schools, I knew after that year, that I would be good for no one to continue in that role. I started praying: "God, give me something where I'm still stewarding my talents and helping people, but please don't keep me here. P.S. If it could be in Burundi, Africa, that would be brillant." I've spent my last two summers in Burundi--teaching English, helping with kids' camps, orphanages, visiting and sharing with rural churches, various activities of the sort--but I was hoping for something longer term, something where I could really make an impact. I must say the people of Burundi have made more of an impact on me than I have on them by far. I'm ready to give back. Wait, pray, wait, pray, wait, pray, BAM! A western trained teacher is needed at a school in the capital, Bujumbura, to coach Burundian teachers, teach subjects in French and English (both of which I speak) to kindergartners, first graders, and second graders. Look no further, I'm pretty sure that job is called Melissa! So that's it! That's the next season, calling, adventure, etc! Not to mention I get to relieve two lovely directors from their six years of investing in Burundi to take their family on a much needed sabbatical. All the details are to be worked out, but I have a place to stay and I have a role to fill. Done. Signed, sealed, delivered.

What a THING God is doing! I call it a thing because as much as is obvious to the eye that can see, I believe there is so much going on that is unseen. A new chapter has begun! Florence declares "The Dog Days Are Over!" I personally dub it a giant felix culpa...this chapter, this life, the things comprehended and the things we'll never know. Felix is basically Latin for good. Culpa, Latin for bad. This jist is that good is coming out of the bad and that God is bringing that. Sempre is a Latin term meaning consistently forward. Laymen's terms: A consistent ongoing of the good arising from the bad. That's my life now. That's Burundi now. Had my last year of teaching not have been dire staights, perhaps I would have stayed in it and not have had the courage to seek another path. Burundi...well, you read the history. It's not exactly a bedtime story. But peace is springing up all over the peace. People are TIRED of war, of chaos, of unrest. They're ready for new lives. They demonstrated that sentiment last summer as Burundi held their first ever peaceful election (i.e. no war). So here we are. Sempre Felix Culpa.

We know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him.

Romans 8:28a