I'd Like Some Ketchup With That Please

Well, my blog was originally to keep people up with life in Burundi while I was gone.  But then a few changes were made, and I am still technically “gone” from most people I know.  For now.  Until I make friends.  In the new state of Washington.  Yep, I moved.  Again.  (But at least I’m in the same country now, right Mom and Dad???)

You see, there was this guy. . . .who was a catch.  So much so that we decided to get married.  By the way, his name is Evan.

Oh, that's why people write poetry.

He’s in the military.  And the government stationed him in Washington. 

This is your typical rainy day.

But then there are the beautiful surprises like this one as you drive.
(Lots of people pulled over to take a picture of this sky.
I like that people appreciate the beauty of nature here.)

And this is just beautiful whether it's rainy or not.

Oh yeah, and in case you were wondering, it wasn’t a split second decision, we met long before I went to Africa.  A whole two months!  Long distance for seven.  Then, I saw him for a whole two days when I got back, just long enough to get engaged, and then he went down for two more months in one of those little big tin cans in the sea.

They're not actually yellow as you may have been misled as a child by the The Beatles like me.

When he came back up, (Hooray for a long waited reunion!) we drove out west. 

Whatever that little house could be for, I have no idea.

Getting a look at the Grand Tetons before the big hike. . . ;o)

No talking on the phone while drivinggggg....

So this is my new life.  And it makes me feel like this:

Most of the time.  Moving is still moving.  But there's LOTS to be glad for.

*me = photohappy aka being back in the States with good internet!!!  Whoohoo!!

Season Change

I'm home now. In the States. It' hard to believe only 3 weeks ago, I was in a completely different world. God has been so faithful in bringing me back to this place. Even though it's incredibly different, so many things are the same as my old world. I'll come back to that thought in a moment.

First, I just want to celebrate a sweet ending to my time in Burundi. Whenever you're leaving a place, you want to make sure that you say proper good-byes, and that you leave things in a way that the footprints you made while there will start a path that others can continue to walk on after you're gone. Well let me say, Burundians know how to give a proper goodbye. My friend Freddy says Westerners wait 'til the funeral to say good things about a person. I don't know if this is completely true. But it's true sometimes. Not Burundians. Usually, all they have the means to give you are their words. They make sure you know how they feel before you're gone. They tell you thank you for the specific things you did, and sometimes they give you a gift to show their gratitude. I was grateful for open hearts and grateful for the chance to express my own gratitude. I didn't come for their thanks, but it's always nice when that happens.

My fancy bread in a box that Alphonsine surprised me with on the last day!

(probably cost her half a day's salary!)

Alphonsine and I in the classroom. She is the lady I worked with my

last couple of months at the school training to take over P3 class.

It was hard to say goodbye. It was hard to leave my children. It was harder to trust that the work I had done was done in such relevance to the culture that it would be continued after I had left. But God and life had just released me into a new season. And so it starts. Home sweet USA.

Being back has been good, surreal at times, but I guess that is to be expected. Overall it has felt natural, and God has been really faithful in helping me transfer my experiences in Burundi back to life here. To preface the next thought, I need to share a little confession: The past two times I've been to Burundi, I had only gone for about two months at a time. That being said, it's really easy to only see how great everything is there--how nice the people are, how beautiful the African cloths are, how incredible the long-term missionaries who live there are, how yummy the mangoes are, etc. It's really easy to come back and judge your own country. Grimace.

Going for a longer period changes a lot. I saw the unbelievable crazy corrupt effects of the government and even the church on people's lives. I drove a car that broke down on a regular basis on the streets that have no structure according to my culture (but did according to theirs). I saw the effects of the lack of education in the people affecting their daily lives. I saw people selling eggs and peanuts on the side of the street to make a living. I visited my friends, that I worked with everyday, in their homes or the hospital, recovering from malaria and typhoid and stomach ulcers, and who were wondering where the money would come from to pay the hospital bills. In other words, I saw the faults. I saw how imperfect Burundi is. Yes, they are doing some things at life better than us, and we are doing some things better at life than them. But we're all just

trying.

to.

get.

by.

For some people, trying to get by is just feeding your family. For people who have already conquered that step, trying to get by could look like buying a boat because it makes you happy. There's different levels of it I suppose. If Burundians could get to a level where they have enough money to buy a boat, you bet your socks they would! But most of them just aren't there. So it is a different world. But what I'm come to see is that it's the same heart. People just want good lives for themselves and the people they love. It's made me less judgmental of America. Or the western world. Because now that I've lived in two extremes, I see we are people--terribly broken but full of heart and just wanting to restore it to the way it was meant to be. People want a redemption. We're crying out for it in every possible way. Some ways are working, and some aren't. But through it all, it's not my place to judge. It's just my place to offer up the places I've

found that I believe in or walk alongside others as we find a place together.

I'm thankful not to be as cynical. It's not fun to be a cynic.

As an ending to my time in Burundi, here's a little tribute to some things I will miss: Here's to Burundi and to new seasons.

Duh...my kids

African skies

Beautiful landscapes

Ballet classes for $10 a month!

(thanks to a professional ballerina post-career current missionary)

This lady and our adventures

The Little Things

Living in Buj is like living in a very small town sometimes. Except that there's about 300,000 people. Seriously. But as far as the ex-pat community goes, we all know each other, we all go to the same places, and needless to say, everyone knows everyone's business. Mostly. If you don't keep yourself busy, life can get a bit mundane sometimes. So I've been trying to focus on my kids and my last few months with them at the school--writing lesson plans for the future years I won't be there, and just giving them as many experiences as possible.

A few fun things have happened lately. I can tell I am making more of a connection with my students now--one, their English has improved, and they understand how cool I am now. Two, time is a friend to building relationships. One of them, Patrick, has been writing on his homework papers and tests, "Ndagukunda Madame Melissa" which translates as "I love you Madame Melissa." (Melt my heart why don't you?) One of the girls who used to defiantly run away from me (Ciella) has now figured out that if she comes into the classroom during recess, she can have my undivided attention, which she LOVES. I usually just read a book to her or we draw together. One of my favorite little cuties (am I allowed to say that?), Ami Diel, and I have a new joke going on. Last week, he tells me that he has a pet lion at home. I ask him if he rides it to school, and he says he only rides it to church. Some days, I ask him what his lion is doing while he is at school. He tells me he's cooking or taking a nap in the shade. This week he started ripping off corners of his homework. When I asked him why his homework was ripped, he said his lion was hungry.

They have come so far. I LOVE being able to communicate with them better and see little pieces of their creative personalities. Just appreciating those small bits of progress. Just enjoying little things.

Ami Diel, who I've dubbed as "Simba." (Kiswahili for lion)

He's my man with the imaginary pet.

Ciella and I are hanging out in the empty classroom at recess.

She's not quite sure what this apparatus does,

but it's not long after this picture that she is determined to take one herself.

New Beginnings

Between busy-ness, traveling, and shady internet, it's been a while, so I'll delve right in. Lots has changed--both on the outside and the inside.

December. . .the highlight was definitely not exams. It was Christmas. In the States, teachers survive by trying to fill the month with fun Christmas activities (aka Elf Wordsearch) as the kids are going bonkers waiting for winter break and driving their teachers up the wall. Maybe a few of them even hide above the ceiling tiles to escape for a minute. There's lots of talk about Santa, gifts, Frosty, cookies, flying reindeer, etc. And if the teacher's a little bit cheeky, perhaps there's a few books about Kwanza, Hannakuk, and Christmas just so the Jesus word gets brought up. But in Burundi, it's a whole other ballgame.

Christmas is not a big deal. For most families, it passes just like any other day. What families have the money to buy Christmas trees or make cookies for Santa? New Year's is what it's all about (not the hokey-pokey) as it's a celebration of living through another perilous year. People buy each other new clothes and shoes and go out for drinks (aka sodas) if able to afford it. So knowing this tidbit about the culture, I wanted to make sure that there was some acknowledgement that Christmas is really all about a Savior leaving His throne in Heaven and coming to dwell among his people that He would one day save. Resources were low and craft options scarce, but we do have flour, salt, and water in this country. So what did I do but make clay for the kids to shape and paint. We made heart ornaments--a simple shape for a simple

story. God is love, and sending Jesus is how he showed us. The kids loved it. We shared the

Christmas story, and made our hearts. Not many people give these children the opportunity to create something with art. The teachers are currently learning how to teach art, thanks to another American volunteer. Most of them have never done art before, and the country itself doesn't have many opportunities for this kind of expression. It sets me alive to give them this opportunity as teaching art lets them see there are beautiful things in the world, and that they have the power to create them.

Dexon with his ornament/necklace/whatever he wants it to be heart.

The rest of December was a much needed break and reprieve home to see my family and friends in the US. And to rest. Being in a culture that is not your own and overcoming such barriers can be quite wearing at times. A bit of "normality" was just what the doctor ordered. I was able to evaluate my time in Burundi thus far and make some changes needed to live better and be more effective while finishing my time there. One of those changes included doing life with another person. I had been living alone on the outskirts of town, and an opportunity opened to live with a friend closer to town. This opportunity was an answer to prayer. No matter where you are in the world, you gotta walk through life with people, but especially in Burundi. What a way for God to provide and fight for me. . . .

I've been back for a month since break, and there's always a re-adjustment to culture that has to take place. For anyone who's ever lived and worked abroad, you know what I'm talking about when I refer to that time of shock where everything and everyone is just "stupid." People calling you white person in the street is "stupid", no rules on the road is "stupid," the heat is "stupid," businesses shutting down for an afternoon nap. . . .you get the picture. Probably humorous from afar and in hindsight, but very real in the moment. It's forced me to examine myself. What parts of me believes my culture is right and theirs is wrong? Why are these things bothering me? It forces me to align both cultures right up next to Jesus to figure out the truth. No longer is America the measurement of "correct" nor is any other country. We've all got faults, and Jesus sees past cultural differences anyway. It's a journey with Jesus as he reshapes my views on life, rids me of paradigms ingrained in me since birth, and realigns the way I love others. It's

humbled me and grown my patience tremendously as I learn to receive well others different than myself and learn new ways of communicating care and friendship to them.

In other news of January, the most exciting things happening has been teaching students to read and speak English and doing PowerClubs at school. In the beginning of the year, I was doing a phonics system where they learn the sounds of each letter. Six months later, there are students reading on a kindergarten level. Amen right?!? It really shows what children can do when they sincerely desire to learn. Knowing English opens a WORLD of doors to these kids, especially in the East African Community (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Rwanda, and Burundi).

In case you missed the last blog, PowerClubs are Bible lessons. But they're different than any other Bible lesson. Okay, I don't really even want to call it "Bible lesson." Can we just call it kids' opportunity to experience Jesus? Alright, I'll explain. We start with a game. It gets all the kids involved and they forget how hungry they are or that they have to pee or that their mom just whopped them upside the head this morning. Then we praise Jesus. This is a Burundian's forté. They are the kings and queens of shouting out to the Lord, clapping their hands, stomping their feet, and banging on a drum. What else are you going to do with your time while you live in the dirt and survive? Praise eventually leads into worship where we get a little more serious and try to put our minds on Jesus. We pray, and a lesson begins. Here's a glimpse of what we've been learning:

Salvation: Caterpillars to Butterflies

Me: Have you ever seen a caterpillar?

Kids: Yes. Ew, they're hairy. They're creepy and crawly. They're low to the ground. They're slow. Birds eat them.

Me: Good, good. So before we know Jesus, we are like caterpillars. We aren't very strong, and we're quite slow.

Kids: [Giggle giggle as they think about themselves squirming on the ground like caterpillars.]

Me: But what happens to caterpillars as they grow?

Kids: They become butterflies!

Me: Yes, now tell me about that.

Kids: They're pretty! They're free! They fly around from flower to flower.

Me: Exactly! Jesus says that, "All those who are in Him are a new creation!" (2 Corinthians 5:17)

They like the idea of being a butterfly. Some of them pray to become "butterflies," and then one of them has a question.

Graciella: "So Madame Melissa, why some pastor tell you you can go back to caterpillar?"

WHOA. HOLD UP. YES, I'M IN ALL CAPS NOW I'M SO EXCITED. Graciella just brought up a gigantic issue here in Burundi, and that is that many people believe you can lose your salvation. It's one of the ways corrupt pastors can retain control of their congregation and unfortunately is a huge stronghold in the church. So...

Me: Well Graciella, have you ever seen a butterfly turn back into a caterpillar?

Kids: [Flood of fingers waving back and forth at me = Burundian sign for no.] Noooo Madame Melissa.

Me: It's not possible?

Kids: No Madame Melissa. Not possible.

Bam. Take that Satan. 40 kids, just saved from a ridiculous and popular yet untrue belief in Burundi.

So there's a glimpse of one of the small and daily miracles that take place here. It's one of the things that keeps me rejoicing and going from one day to the next. Living here is a challenge. But I'm growing. I'm finding it helps to believe in the small things. Beth Clark, author, wrote something that has been my refrain of song since I read it. It says:

"I've noticed something about people who make a difference in the world: They hold to the unshakable conviction that individuals are extremely important, that every life matters. They are willing to feed one stomach, educate one mind, and treat one wound. They aren't determined to revolutionize the world all at once; they're satisfied with small changes. Over time though, the small changes add up. Sometimes they even transform cities and nations, and yes, the world."

Thanking Jesus that life is one day at a time. And that He is my fighter.

Kids dancing and praising God during PowerClubs.

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.