africa cut my heart in two. (

2009-03-13T05:05:00.000-07:00

When will our world be one without walls or oceans or locks and keys or borders or boundries. When will it all be one. What if the oceans evaporated and the continents came together and then the walls had little stair cases over top of them which lead to right to the people you love who you once were so separated from.

What if our world was one.

What if my plate was your plate and my pockets were yours. If what I had was what you had and nothing was lacking?

I'm feeling the ocean's width real-strong-like. Not only are they living a different life, but they're living it nine hours ahead of me and my night is their day, my breakfast is their supper. This is what happens when distance takes us apart.

Holding thier breath and jumping really high so that maybe they'll be caught flying.

Here is Dinga. You've just got to meet her.

Shifts shifts shifts.

Esther and Dinga are beautiful.

Carrying firewood back from the river.

feet on american dirt.

2009-03-11T23:12:00.000-07:00

Here is my heart in a photo at this very moment.

Goodbyes.....leaving Chad

2009-03-06T15:32:00.001-08:00

Subject: goodbyes....Leaving Chad

We make sure to say heartfelt goodbyes to the ones we couldn't imagine
having never said hello to.   I always tell myself that I am going to
be prepared to leave a place. I make lists of everything important to
do, every loose end to tie up, every gift to give, and every person to
connect to one last time.   But every time I find myself unprepared
for the splitting, running around trying to have that nice warm
feeling but instead, a feeling of dissatisfaction and frustration
seems to edge out my happy sentiments and I feel anxious.
I continued waving my hand out that ridiculously packed public
transport van even after I couldn't see my brothers and sisters
anymore. I felt a combination of feelings such as relief to be
leaving, guilt for abandoning, heart sore from the kind words said at
parting, uncertainty about what lay ahead, but yet, assured that life
still had that quality of surprise and forward motion which I so love
and that THIS was THAT quality not letting me down. I would be
surprised with the next bend. And the next. And the next.
But the next bend doesn't make the road easier.   I still had to hug
my African mother goodbye, kiss my little Armelle, and make promises
of soon reunion with my sister Dinga, knowing that life for those whom
I left behind was never guaranteed.
The feeling of relief came from the fact that I felt like I had made
it to a gas station after running on empty for a lengthy stretch of
highway. You always think you know how far you can go on empty, but
you never know for sure.    There were times when I felt like I wasn't
strong enough and it was relieving to be leaving with my spirit
intact.
I felt a bit like a bad person when I recognized that those who
remained at the hospital would be facing the exact moments of intense
stress, frustration, and difficulty that I was checking my heart out
of by leaving. Even now, when the clock ticks five o'clock I know the
patients are getting their bleach-water-dressing changes and at
midnight an overworked nurse gives that painful IV Penicillin. I
envision the sick getting their malaria treatments, other meds, and
hopefully settling down for the night.
I felt guilt as I walked through the hospital for the last time.   I
watched a girl crying out in pain while her burns were laying open to
the air, yet shielded from the merciless insects by a thin mosquito
net. I watched a baby's whole sack-of-bones-self, voice and physique
alike, cry out for milk. I watched my friend Caroline, a nurse from
California, plead with a family to go buy the medicine for their baby.
And even as I was walking out of the Pediatrics ward, a man came to
me and said, "My child's IV has stopped. Can you come fix it?"
Caroline came over quickly and said, "I'll take care of that, she's
not working right now."    It's true. I'd come to the end of my work
in Bere Hospital and something about it left a little guilty bite.
My heart ached at the kind words that were given to me at parting.
Jolie's embrace and four simple sobs, followed by the shaking of her
upward-facing-outstretched palms, a motion that our parting was
leaving something lacking, warmed me and ached me at the same time.
Mounden asked me, "What will I do when you leave, Emily?"   Then he
chuckled, "Who is going to give me money to buy pigeons?" Laughter.
His last words as I sat on the public transport out were, "Emily," he
focused in through the slider window frame, "it is God who is going to
guard your heart."   What he said was so true that I wanted to jump
back out of the van, take his shoulders, and tell him he knew
something really important; that those weren't just words and that
indeed God, when we want it, guards our hearts; the in and outflow of
them. Our hearts are shaped and well-learned by the hard things and
then filled and enlarged by our little and big bursts of happiness.
But our time for meaningful conversations was over for now.   I
continued waving my hand out the window long after my ability to crane
my neck in their direction had ceased.
A good friend of mine, named Kacey, sent an email to me soon after
leaving that told me, "The reason we sometimes hate to leave is that
we fear we will forget the things we have experienced." Right now it
is all something that is so real at and means so much to you but we
all know as we slip back into our lives that the details of an
experience can start whispering instead of screaming their
significance. But our hearts are forever changed.   Forever.
I've been here with Fletcher and Nolan now for 5 days and it's been a
breath of fresh air.   I've been taking hot showers, napping, eating
healthy Ethiopian food, walking the hills meeting all these amazing
people who they've gotten so close to (these boys are gems), and just
watching them do their thing.
But, despite our contentment here, Fletcher and I have been having
these conversations that go something like, "What are you going to do
first when we get home?"   We can't wait. But we will.   Only three
more days. I'm looking forward to a bunch of hello's real soon.
Seriously, thank-you for being the awesome friends and family that you
are. I am lucky and blessed.   Love Emily

this. that. here. and there.

2009-02-27T01:49:00.000-08:00

it's the end of africa for now. we're here and there for a time
only. then we do this and that for the next bit of time. i can
honestly say this has been that thing i needed. but now i'm going
there and i'm going to be grateful for that. thank-you for
this. all of this experience. love emily

so it rained.

2009-02-25T06:13:00.000-08:00

I feel like you must think that all I do is lay on mats these days
because that's all I write about. :) But yet again, last night we
were laying on mats and cots and bed springs and blankets. The sea
of people was quiet except for Jolie's melodic yet out of tune
singing, Tony and Izeedor talking mathematics by lamp-light, and then
Armelle who would cry once in a while for silly-spoiled reasons.

And then there was the wind.

The wind blew dust in my eyes and flowers in my hair. It also made
the tree above me sway like crazy and I kept thinking about how
exactly bad it would hurt to have a branch fall on you. We talked
about rain. I told them I had really wished I would have been here
for the rainy season and how fun it would be if it rained. But
Esther said, "It's not going it rain. This is just wind."

We drank tea from our cots which lay parallel and about two inches
inbetween. Jolie lay on her side and me on my stomach as we just
chatted. She's such a graceful, life-filled lady. Armelle climbed
up and found a niche against Jolie's body.

Soon we stopped talking and I turned to my back. I think it was the
way that the branches shook themselves at me, the way the stars were
fading in and out; appearing and disappearing. It must have been all
the anticipation of the dust and flowers landing in my
eyes. Whatever it was I was mealancholic and thought, "What's
next?" Most of my 'what's next' thinking is about school and life
etc. What do I do now with my life...and na na na bla bla bla. In
the time my mind was distracted, there were drops of water that
started making my eyes blink and my body flinch. The scent in the
air changed....to RAIN! When will the impossible stop
happening? When will "what's next" be "what I think?" Probably
never. It never rains until May. It's the dryest part of the year
right now.

So it rained.

It rained in the dry season and it let my mind trust more....knowing
that probability and uncertainty are uncertain themselves. What
seems to be or should be, might not be because life is miraculous and
spontaneous!

I'm ready to come home. I never feel settled leaving a place. I
always make these lists of things to do before the end and nothing
gets done on them and I feel like I'm leaving some puzzle
unfinished. But it's ok. I'm so grateful for everything that you
all have done. The letters, emails, prayers, packages, phone calls,
and just friendships in general. It is a huge gift to me to be sent
here. Thanks. Love Emily

p.s. during the night I felt somone climb on to the cot at my feet
and sneak under my blanket. I lifted my blanket and found Pabris
(4) who was cold and had burrowed a spot on my cot. During the
night he somehow made his way up from the foot of the bed to right
next to me. Then somehow Armelle rolled over onto my cot from
Jolie's and it was like a dog pile.

oh when it all comes to the end.

2009-02-24T03:35:00.000-08:00

I have 5 days left and it's a short enough of a time to make
me realize what a good thing I have here in Africa. It's too bad
that sometimes we have to be looking at an end to REALLY value what we have.
The last few nights we've been sleeping outside. It's
blazing during the days now. I've noticed that Samedi and Jolie
have been just resting at home in the evenings and whether they are
doing it on purpose or not, it has sure given us some priceless times
here at the end.
I come around the corner and everyone is out on the
mats. I lay down and Jolie starts rambling in dialect, sending
orders all around and despite the speed and complicated grammar she
uses, I gathered that she ordered someone to go get me tea, someone
to go bring me a pillow and another person to go lay out her blanket
for me to lay on. She's the sweetest: the kind of sweet that
leaves you feeling completely undeserving.
The kids aren't allowed on her blanket because they haven't
bathed, but the rules always fade and soon the kids are all in a line
on either side of me. I pull my own sheet over me and toss my blue
fleece over both Dinga (13) and myself. Armelle (3) is to my right
and completely naked. I try to throw the other edge of the blanket
over her but she throws it off because she is hot. Jabbering and
singing, some crying and fighting, and soon everyone is asleep. I
wake up a couple of times. Once to a dog licking my face, another
time to Esther coming home from a party, and then the third time
makes me laugh even now.
It must have been two in the morning or so, but I woke up to
someone pulling off my covers. I didn't move but just opened my
eyes. I watched as Tony (12) pulled my sheet off of me, leaving
Dinga and I to share my little blue fleece. He snuck back over and
layed down, wrapping MY covers all around him. I laughed inside so
hard. I decided that if he was willing to steal my covers, that he
must be miserably cold. So I just fell back asleep.
The next morning the hazy light woke us up and everyone
started guessing what time it was. Four-thirty, Five,
Six. Everyone was cold by this time and those who weren't already
in our little line up, squeezed in so we were like ten bundles all in
a row. I asked Tony, with my eyes narrowed, if he was nice and
warm. A huge smile broke out over his face as I told everyone about
his theiving. Caught! Mounden said, "Let's go running! It's nice
and cold!" I said, "Yeah! Let's run!" I stood up and then
realized the depth of my fatigue. I fell back down onto Jolie's rock
hard pillow and said, "Let's NOT run!" Mounden moaned and
protested. :) We laid their a long while longer until Esther
started sweeping the yard, like she does every morning, and sending
dust all over us. And so the day began.
The next night we also slept under the stars. Esther was
laying on this old set of bed springs that sits in our yard. It's
just the bed frame and often there are a billion ripped up old
shirts, pants, fabrics etc that act as padding. I told her to make
room for me and she moved over rest on half of the bed. Then she
asked me if I was going to sleep outside. I said, "Yeah, right here
with you." We climbed in and talked until late. It reminded me of
sleeping with my cousins when I was little because Esther just was
sprawled out all night. One time I woke up with her head on my
shoulder and her arm linked through mine, and yet another time with
her legs thrown across mine. And she was breathing right into my
eyes. I tried to turn over but there was no room left before I fell
off and no wall to hug.
Last night Ansley came to sleep outside with me. At about
9:30, Samedi (my father here) came home for a short visit from his
night shift (we live really close to the hospital). She came around
the corner and said, "Ooo la la! All of these people are for
Samedi?" as he gazed at the sea of bodies all over the numerous,
huge mats. We all chanted, "Qui! Qui!" Tony and Mounden were
talkers and we talked about all sorts of thing ranging from Mounden's
future career, to Tony's lack of money, to the people whose
characters they admired the most.
The kids kept waking Ansley up because she falls asleep so
fast! And it's true, she does. They said, "Our Professor (Ansley
teaches English to them sometimes at school) is asleep
already!" There have been many nights I have slept in her hut and I
juuuuuuuuuust begin to ask her all the world's most important
questions when all of a sudden she's gone. Uhg. She sometimes
apologizes before she conks out but it still doesn't change the fact. :)
Dinga moved home to the house of her real mother but she
just can't seem to stay away from our house. She comes late every
night, probably after everyone has fallen asleep at her own house,
and comes to join us for the night. She wove her little body in
between Pabris and me and Tony came in at a right angle to share my
pillow. I woke up and his side of the pillow was soaked. I am not
sure what happened.....:) He had found a way to somehow get my
covers again too. So I had a little edge while he ended up with the
big square nicely fit to his warmth. :)
I love this way of sleeping. Honestly, I hate sleeping by
myself. I can feel Dinga who is sick to one side of me and
Armelle's deep breathing on my ear and Tony's head fighting me for
space on the pillow. I feel like the night is another day. You
often wake up so many times that it feels like you are getting to
know people better just through your funny interactions during the
night. It's hard for me to explain in an emails. Anyway, I'm sad
I have only three more nights.
Here's the schedule:

Wednesday: go to the fields and take a family portrait.
Thursday: goodbye party with slide show of the family.
Friday: leave in the morning to head to
N'jamena with sisters, Esther and Sabine
and stay with Samedi's oldest daughter.
Saturday: rest!
Sunday: go to the big market and then head
to the airport to get on my plane.
meet Fletcher in Ethiopia! Yay!
Monday: travel to Gimbi Hospital!
Tuesday-10th see what Fletcher's deal is all about.
The 10th: meet Alex B. Vercio in the Addis
Airport! it's been so long! There are
these little beautiful insects with wings
are flying all around in my stomach. :)
Then, Wednesday Evening, i am flying into Spokane Airport
and will be looking for the red lights which pinpoint tower
mountain. This adventure is coming to a close and I'm sure that
even when I am not sure how I feel about it all....the ends and
beginnings....the plan is in place already. Oh it's a good feeling.

edgy.

2009-02-17T22:37:00.000-08:00

Dear friends,

It seems there is always this pushing point. I hate getting
caught. I hate getting in trouble. It's not like I melt under
reprimand or can't take consequences, I just don't like getting
caught. No one does though.
Last night left Carol, Ansley and me sitting in our middle room at
about nine o'clock with preparations already made. Ansley, of
course, had a backpacking pack, a head lamp, blanket, mattress,
Nalgene, toothbrush, toothpaste, candle with matches, and a snack (ok
so the last one isn't true, but she was really prepared and that's my
point.) Then, there was Caroline and I who had packed a bit lighter:
the scrubs we were wearing and gum (Carol said it was to ease our
consciences since we weren't brushing our teeth that night). I also
insisted that we take a blanket and sheet because I remembered the
night of using only my Santa suit as a blanket: bad news. We seem
to have this super similar outlook on preparation:

If you are ok with not having it, then you don't have to bring it.

So if we don't bring a flashlight with us, we have to be ok trekking
in the dark. If we don't bring a water bottle, we have to be able to
last till morning without drinking. If we don't bring a mattress,
then we better be able to tough it out without complaining.
We let Dr. Wilson (awesome visiting Dr. from California) in on our
plan. We explained to him that we wanted to sleep up on top of the
water tower. It is this big huge box set 40 feet high on
stilts. The generator is turned on probably once a day and water is
pumped from the cleanliness of the earth's core and then later able
to run out of our faucets at the hospital. It's awesome up
there. It's flat with no railings. We were worrying a bit about
falling off of it's not-so-large surface area and Dr. Wilson
volunteered to carry bricks up and place them all around the border
for us. He would have too. :) We told him we'd be find. I
suggested we tie our wrists together so at least would be like a
chain. No one thought that was that great of an idea.
So off we went.
But then we hit that pushing point. It's usually at the doorway of
the room to break into, the base of the ladder to climb, the edge of
the boundary to cross). This is the point where I say, "Guys, what
if......." and then I pose the worry about someone seeing us, getting
us in trouble, or us GETTING CAUGHT. Thankfully, it seems I always
have a friend who pushes me past that point. Once I'm past that
point, I'm all in. But if it weren't for edgy friends, there would
be alot fewer awesome experiences under my belt.
I remember on the road trip this last summer with Tara Becker, we
drove to the boiling mud pots in Yellowstone. These brown holes
just bubble! They steam too and we wanted so bad to touch them,
just to KNOW how hot they really were. BUT....there was this sign
that said, "Keep Off." Then there was a RAILING. Tara was like,
"Emily, let's just hop the fence, run down there, stick our finger in
the mud, and then run out." I am not sure why it was so worrisome,
but I just kept thinking, "We're gonna get caught! I know it!" But
Tara pushed me past that point and we ran down past the warning sign,
touched the boiling pots and found out that they were almost
cold! I would have always thought they were hot! We start walking over the hospital and it's nine at night. We go
through the metal gate and start walking across the campus. I see
people milling around and definitely not asleep yet. I say, "What
if someone sees us while climbing and thinks we are thieves?"
"Are you having second thoughts, Emily?" No. It's never second
thoughts. It's just that I have to say the worries, have someone
tell me I am being silly, and then I suck up my fears and go.
We found the super tall solid metal ladder. It took three of us to
get it standing on end and even then it was waving all over in the
air. The top would start swaying towards the metal roof of one
building and we would correct it by pushing it the other way, which
caused overcompensation, and then we'd almost hit another roof. Oh
man it was so crazy. Really heavy. Finally we got it in place and
started up. We took off our shoes at the first level and then
climbed up to the second. The big water drum is capped by this
semi-thin sheet of metal and that's what we were going to sleep
on. There was this big drum sound every time we'd shift weight and
it was impossible to be sneaky, especially after Ansley lit her
candle up there. :) But after getting settled, we were staring up
at stars. Just stars! We were so high, that's all you could
see. There were like 10 stars that shot across the sky. We had
awesome conversation.
My dad always says that there is something about both campfires and
hot tubs that makes them such good places for conversation. It's
like there is a reason for you to just sit still and good
conversation is the awesome side effect Silences are not awkward
because when conversation runs out, there is always that other reason
to stay: the heat of the fire, the comfort of the hot water.
I think I am going to add stars to his theory. Looking at stars
produces some pretty awesome conversation.
So then finally we went to sleep.
I'm having a hard time sleeping lately. My mind just won't turn
off. Jolie (my mother here) says that if you think too much you
will get skinny and sickly. Anytime she catches me daydreaming, she
reminds me I'll get sickly if I keep that up. :)
But despite the lack of sleep I've had these last few nights, I'm
thankful for the thinking time.
At 3 am Caroline told me she was freezing and wasn't going to make it
till morning. She headed down and walked home. Crazy girl. Then
at 4 am Ansley told me she was cold and wasn't going to make it till
morning. I begged her not to leave right then. Wait till it's a
bit lighter, then we'll go. So she toughed it out like the champ she is.

I have learned that good sleep is not usually part of a good adventure.

Love Emily

pots.

2009-02-15T06:10:00.000-08:00

Friday nights, for worship, we have been listening to the Pineapple
Story. It's a funny man speaking about his mission experience in New
Guinea. He has a problem because people keep stealing all the
pineapples out of his garden...the garden that he is starting to help
the people. It is so upsetting to him and he tries all sorts of
things to keep them from stealing. Anyway, finally, he decided that
he didn't care anymore. He told God, "You know what, I am trying to
do this for you anyway, these are your pineapples Lord. If you don't
want them stolen then do something." And so it went. The man just
started spreading the word that he had given his pineapple field to
God. Soon after, everyone stopped stealing pineapples because they
couldn't justify stealing from God!
I love this idea. Just give everything to God and leave the
success to him. If you give everything to him then he can take care
of it or "give it" away as he feels. We worry less about things and
become more generous.
I've been painting the inside murals of the church for four days now
and things are starting to shapen up. We've got big winding trees
and rivers and bubbles and huge colorful sunshines. The other
workers (TB patients) have learned alot about painting. There is
ALOT of paint all over the floor, and they start with new shades of
blue mid-wall sometimes, but we're taking the mishaps and mess-ups in
stride. When it is finished, we will call it abstract, deep, and
meaningful so that anyone who questions our techniques will simply
have to realize that they just don't have artful eye that these
Chadian painters did.
Everyday there are funny requests for just a little bit of
paint. The first day it was Jon Jac (the night watchmen) who wanted
a little paint in a cup to paint the bed in his watchtower. Then
there was Degal (the gangly other night watchman) who wanted me to
paint his family name plate (rusted rectangle metal sheet nailed to
his mud-hut wall) and then write his name (all three of them) along
with his title at the hospital (I painted it bright orange...I'm not
sure it's what he had in mind). Oh dear. Then the women come
everyday with their metal pots. The original factory paint coat has
chipped away in some places and there are these spaces of silver
showing through. It doesn't look bad. If fact, I've seen my mom
come home with things that looked very similar from the antique
stores. But in their head they have this idea that it is better to
have paint on the pot. So they come and dip their fingers in my
paint cans and smear red, green, and yellow into the chips. Now the
pots look real....different. I can't help but laugh and I am more
than happy for them to take some of the paint for their pots. It's
such a little thing that is seemingly making them very happy. I
did think for a second, "Oh man, Emily, if you start giving out a
little paint, EVERYONE will want paint." But then I thought about
the pineapple story, about the story of the 5 loaves and 2 fish. My
paint is nowhere CLOSE to running out. So now the paint is God's
paint. If he wants it splotched on pots around Bere, Chad, I'm all for it.

cleaning is very messy.

2009-02-10T09:57:00.000-08:00

I feel like TB had to have gotten in my body somehow. Four of the
TB patients and I moved all of the beds out of the ward. Then we
scrubbed all of the walls with brooms and soap. One of the guys was
throwing soapy water up on the walls, three of us scrubbed with
brooms, and another rinsed with a hose. The water ran brown off the
walls and soon we were standing in these lakes. We started using the
already dirty water to loosen who knows what off of the walls. They
let me have the job of throwing water for a while, but I was so bad
at it and I kept soaking everyone. It's so hard to hold onto a
soapy bowl when you are flinging it in an upward motion to soak the
walls. One time especially, I just totally missed and water went all
over the guys. Good thing they know how to laugh. They took it
away from me at the point.
After everything was scrubbed (even the high ceiling), we shoveled
the water out of the sanctuary. It felt like shoveling snow off of
sidewalks. We were filthy by this point. Just soaked in the mess
of the trashed TB ward.
Part way through I ran over and filled two jars will water and then
put some drink mixes in them. Jacob (an SM from Southern) left a
bunch of these "Greens to Go" drink mixes. They have all these
green pieces of....maybe lettuce....I don't know....and look really
questionable. But they have tons of vitamins and so with this
argument, I got all of the workers to drink the stuff.
We finished and it was beautiful. "Proper" as they liked to call
it. The men asked if they could pour my precious bleach down the rat
holes. They hate the rats. I've never seen so much disgust and
expression coming from their faces as when they were explaining to me
how the rats come in the middle of the night and run around their
beds and across their chests. Sarah suggested we buy a cat to live
in the sanctuary. Anyway, it was absolutely clean and while I
wouldn't have licked the floor, I probably would have slept on
it...which is saying alot.
They men worked so hard. They didn't stop once. If it so happened
that one of their jobs came to a close, they would come take my work
from me before they themselves would stop working.
In the morning, I had asked Augustan to help me hire some of the
patients. He came and we hired the people not giving them a
wage...just saying we would give them a little something if they
helped. So now it was time to pay. I went back to Augustan and
told him that they worked really hard, that I wanted to pay them
well. How much? He said...."Two dollars...they will be blown
away." Two dollars.... that's double a days wage. So I went back
and gave them all the 1000 francs. They accepted their money with
two hands. I love the gesture. Afterwards, they said, "Emily, can
we have the extra soapy water to wash our clothes?" Yes. Yes, you
most definately can. So all the wives came with their buckets and
filled their buckets with soapy water. They'll be all proper for
tomorrow. Tomorrow we start the painting. I still haven't taken a
shower. I need to. I feel like TB germs are all over in my ears and
nose and eyes and mouth. I feel like these little air-borne bugs
are hovering around me! I'm having so much fun. Today I felt so
energized. It was the hype of working with others who were also
working hard. I loved it.

little stuff.

2009-02-09T10:30:00.000-08:00

I detached Armelle from my back and after the 10k round trip trek to
the river, we had created a damp layer between our two bodies. Three
year olds are not meant to be carried like that and I was
exhausted. But after Jolie got over her shock that we had actually
gone to the river and back like that, she brought me her nice soft
horse blanket from her own bed. She laid out the big mat and spread
the blanket down. Then she told me to lay down. She rushed around
getting me tea and shooing the rambuncious kids away. I laid down
and Armelle came and laid down next to me. Jolie came and we all
sipped tea. Armelle was extra affectionate and curled up against
me. She told Jolie in her sweet little dilect, "Emily is my
friend." Then a bit later she said, "Emily is my sister." Oh the heart.
We have a game that we always play. It's called, "bung pna," which
means "give one." I always have my hair in braids and she does
too. She'll say, "give me one of your braids," and I'll ask for one
of hers and give it a little tug. Sometimes, when she's feeling
extra funny, she'll ask for all of my braids. :) Oh it's the
little things that make us happy. That's something that has come
to the front of my mind here. It's the little things.

tandem biking.

2009-02-06T05:36:00.000-08:00

Three weeks left. It's not everyday that you are in Africa. Yes,
right now it seems like it is since I have been here for 5
months. But despite that feeling, the truth is, that this day, in
Africa, is a very exceptional day compared to the rest of my
life. So, I've been trying to make as many memories, experience as
many things, and learn as many lessons as I can in this last
stretch. I know my friends always roll their eyes when I use this
wonderful motto but.....

If you are given a moment and you could either let it pass you by or
make a memory, ALWAYS make a memory! Or M.A.M., as Tara Becker so
wonderfully abbreviated it.

So the other night I took my camera (I know my mom would have a fit
if she knew how few pictures I have actually taken) and went out on a
long walk in search of things to photograph. As I walked out of
town and towards the river, a wrinkly, elderly man on one of those
rickety bikes that I have talked about, came riding up beside
me. "Lapia, Lapia, Lapia!!! LAPIA BUJA!!! " Alrighty little guy
calm down. He was so cute though and he stopped his bike to
talk. After finding out that we were going in the same direction,
he told me that I could ride on the back of his bike. Wow! Like
hitch-hiking! I would never in my life pass up a chance like that

So, I sat on the little metal platform behind the bike seat and hung
my legs down incase the take off wasn't as smooth as we wished. He
tried to get going, but honestly i was definitely bigger than
him. His little frail leg muscles just couldn't push us through the
sandy path on this dying bicycle. So we decided that I would give it
a go and he would ride on the back.

So off we went. Lisa (my cousin) and I have lots of practice riding
double on bikes. One of us will usually sit on the handle bars and
the other peddles down College Ave. (Spring Quarter here we come Lisa!)

It got tipsy in a few places and there were times I even thought we
were for sure going to take a tumble. However, we pulled it off. I
even managed to take a snapshot of the two of us WHILE driving the bike.

We rode a few miles. This was no short jaunt. A could times I
would ask him, "Should we turn her? Should we stop her?" He would
always hurriedly shriek his answers, "No! not yet! I'll tell you,
I'll give you warning before the road comes!" I think he was worried
that if we stopped that we wouldn't get going again. Soon we got to
the next village and the little man introduced me to his family and
one of his wives.

But soon they started making plans to feed me and I knew that it was
getting dark. I still had to run back 3 miles mind you. So I got
back on the road and the sun had already set. It got darker and
darker and I started passing some interesting types of people on the
road. I started jogging. Soon, a young boy came up beside me on his
bike and started talking to me with all of the English he knew. He
accompanied me all the way home in the dark. Not that I'm afraid of
the dark or anything. :)

Count-down.

-Go to the river and collect firewood and carry it back like those
ladies who were doing their thing.
-Sell random goods at the market with Ansley.
-Go to the Arab Village.
-Trap mice out in the fields and fry them to eat.
-Organize a 5k in Bere.
-Sleep a full night outside. (Not a half a night and then have to go
in because you are so cold.)
-Gather junk fabric from off of the streets for sewing when I come home.
-Paint the murals in the church.
-Put together a slide show for my family.
-Cook a meal for my family.
-Be the one to kill the chicken. (I don't know that I have the heart to do it.)
-Family Portrait

my dilemma.

2009-02-06T03:42:00.000-08:00

It's all so comfortable by now. The 15 kids, the coals
burning red, the attention starved dog, the never-ending jabber, the
mats spread out, Mounden saying he's hungry still, and the metal bed
springs that we love to lay on. There are a million inside jokes
that I have with only this African family. A hundred wonderful
memories that no one else was there for except them. Last night I
just took time to watch. I watched as everyone teased Dinga (13) of
stealing Jolie's silky night-gown, as Jolie made Aaron (7) cry by
telling him he couldn't sit next to her because his legs were "white
with dirt", as Esther sang "My head, my shoulders, my knees and my
toes," but kept getting her anatomy all wrong. I died laughing when
Izeedor chomped on a rock in the rice and everyone pointed to Esther
because she was the one who hadn't prepared it well! Jolie told me
that Alex had called her that day and told her that he didn't like me
anymore and that I shouldn't come back to America. :) "Urra Americ
di, Emily" You're not going to America, Emily. Tony piped up that
Jolie was a liar and that Alex didn't call her. Thank-you Tony. I'd
be in tears if it weren't for him. :) Soon things quieted down and
the littlest kids were sprawled out on the mats, tugging at the
shared covers in their sleep. Goma, an irresistable two year old,
started crying after Pabris pulled all the covers off of him. I
reached one hand down to him and he reached two up to me. I pulled
him up to my lap and in five seconds he was asleep again.
Ongen (Goma's mother-Jolie's sister) decided to go home and
so Merci, Esther and I said we would walk her home. What a nice
African tradition. As we walked, I taught them to say, "Why are you
laughing?" But they kept mispronouncing and instead saying something
more like, "Where is the bathroom." So I just taught them that
instead. So here are these three Africans saying, "Where is the
bathroom??" as we walk through the village. I just couldn't help but
laugh. Then they started saying, "The bathroom is THAT way!" which
they learned thanks to Nathaniel who was the SM English teacher from
Denmark a few months ago. They say it with his British accent which
added even more flavor and fun to this moment.
We got to Ongen's house and were met by her husband. We had
some fun conversation on the bench outside and then said we were
heading home. He said to wait a minute. He disappeared into his
house for quite a long time. I said, "Esther, should we go?" She,
knowingly said, "No, wait just a bit." Soon he came out and said he
would walk us out. (I had almost fallen in a big hole thanks to my
awful yellow tinted pen-light and the girls had kindly made like
three jokes about me falling within our ten minute visit.) We walked
out and when we got to the end of his path (path not driveway mind
you) he gave each of us a 100 franc coin (20 cents) and told us to go
get tea with it! I felt like my grandpa had just given me spending
money in the 1920's. As soon as we got a little way down the road,
Esther and Merci both held up their coins and broke into excited
laughter! "We have money!" Their excitement was totally contagious
and I caught it in a flash. We all started jumping and running down
the road with our little coins! I've never been so excited about twenty cents!
We got back home and rubbed it in Dinga's face that because
she was lazy and didn't walk Ongen home with us that she was 100
francs poorer. :) Then it was time to get all the kids into the hut
to sleep. They HATE getting moved after they have already fallen
asleep outside. But nonetheless, they'll get eaten by the mosquitos
if they don't go in. So, Esther goes around shaking all of them
telling them to go inside. She thoroughly enjoys it I can
tell. Everyone is whining and complaining and as she pulls them up
to their feet by the arm, they just fall back down, followed by more
whining. :) I picked up Aaron and hauled him in, laid him on the
mat and then went back for Armelle.

What will I do when I have to leave them? Can you see my dilemma?

At moments I'm stressed beyond belief and want nothing more
than to be far far away from here, and at other seconds in time I
can't imagine that day I get on the plane. So life goes. The
thing that will tip the scale is the fact that MY family is waiting
for me at home. Oh I can't wait to see them. I am still just
throwing thanks to all of you for helping me come here. What a gift
you have given to me. Love Emily

TB: I am tired BUT....

2009-02-05T07:28:00.000-08:00

Have you ever walked into a church that was empty?

I'm sure all of you have. There's that silent sound. Ok, imagine
that sound. Instead of carpet and hymnals....picture metal beds and
spider's webs. You can still picture a pulpit because it is still
there up front. Then imagine that you're a breathing is a little
bit short because you keep thinking about all the tuberculosis that
lives in the sanctuary. Breathing deeply seems risky and so you
subconsciously don't.
Despite the ghetto, there is this mystical recuperative
atmosphere that is linked to the community of those who are all
living under the same roof. Like one big, drafty dorm room. Tall,
skinny church windows climb the walls every five feet and about 20
metal beds (some with and some without mattresses) randomly occupy
free space.

The old church: This is the Tuberculosis ward.

The people who are diagnosed are given free treatment
through a program called DOT. Directly Observed Treatment. This
means that someone watches them take their pills each morning,
ensuring that they will get better. If you don't treat TB
CONSISTENTLY for 3 months, it will never go away. So these people
have this experience...hopefully a once in a life-time thing...where
they live together under the church roof while ridding their bodies of TB.
I used some tithe money that one of my good friends sent to
buy paint the other day. The next two weeks will be a painting
marathon. Happy murals. They are turning this current TB ward
into the new Pediatrics ward., making room for many more babies.
I walked in at about two in the afternoon to do some
brainstorming and only one man sat in his bed. He had an IV
(probably being treated for malaria on top of TB) and couldn't go
outside like the rest of the patients tend to do during the day. He
just sat with his legs hanging down off the edge of the bed. I had
to do a double take because I couldn't tell if there were legs in his
pant legs. He was just so skinny. That is one sign of TB. Rapid
loss of weight.
I said, "Lapiaga?" He slllooooowwwwlllllyyy reached up and
took my hand and said almost in a whisper, "Lapia." It means kind
of like, "Things are good." or "I am happy."
He asked me back, "Lapiaga?" I said, "On gilla di
di." I'm a little tired. Without missing a beat, in just the same
whisper, he said, "Kouma ma bumma." God will give it.

God will give what?
He didn't say what God would give.
I said, "Qui, Qui," Yes, Yes, like I already understood the depth of
what he said. But really it didn't sink in until it sat in my head
for a while.

How is it that this man, the sickest of all the TB patients, would
without a second thought tell me that God would give me what I needed
for my fatigue.

I am tired BUT....God will give it.
I am stressed BUT....God will give it.
I sick BUT God will give it.
I am lonely BUT....God will give it.
I am worried BUT....God will give it.
I am less than perfect BUT....God will give it.

It.
It.
It.

Whatever it is....

...the things HE knows we need.

I think I'm going to paint that on the walls somewhere. God will
give it. "What is 'it'?" people will ask. I don't know. It's
probably not what we think that we need. It's probably something
surprisingly and perfectly fit to our problem. I am tired BUT....

Kouma ma bumma.

Let Her Cry

2009-01-30T06:48:00.000-08:00

Let her cry.

Her baby is dying and her husband doesn't care a
bit. She's the only one who cares at this point
and you want her to quit with the tears.

Let them flow I say.

I'm so glad that SOMEONE'S heart is hurting because this baby is hurting.

Sarah Sexton, one of the SM's from last year,
reminded me that God loves each of these children
more than we ever could. Even if the father of
the baby here on earth could care less about the
child, the Father in heaven is caring his heart
out. He LOVES the baby. Really loves him.

Dr. Howe (Ted…Ansley's dad) is here
visiting. Ansley, he, and I all went to the
market earlier in the day. As we were walking
the dirt path home, a woman passed us. She had
her baby stiffly propped up and over her shoulder
and as we looked closer, the babies eyes were
just rolled back into his head and his little
mouth foamed with saliva. His seizing made Dr.
Howe's heart break. I could tell.

As I walked back I felt hopeless for
that baby and also anxious about the night shift
I was going to work that night. This baby that
we followed back to the hospital might die under my watch.

I got to work and sure enough, there
he was. A sweet small baby with big legs. His
mom layed on the plastic mattress with him. The
doctor comes and decides to do a lumbar puncture
testing for Meningitis. Three dollars. We put
together that puzzle of finding the money. Your
friend will give you twenty-five cents, you will
trade in one medicine that you bought a lot of
already, then you will put your phone as credit
until you can search for the
rest….somewhere. The baby's mom couldn't watch
and I took over holding the baby in a little C
shape. while the doctor did the puncture. And
the spinal fluid came. But instead of clear, it
was murky gray-a sure sign of Meningitis. More money searching.
We came to give the mother the
results of the test and as my headlamp dimly lit
up her face I saw that there were little rivers on her cheeks.
Dr. Jaque immediately laid into her.
" Stop this crying! What is this?!" he mocked
with his finger motioning tears down the
face. "What, you think this crying is going to
do something for your baby?! Give your baby
milk," he tapped at the mothers breasts, "and put
sugar on his tongue…and QUIT crying!" The
mother scrabbled to follow orders that she didn't
really even understand because she didn't even speak French.
I couldn't bite my tongue any
longer. "Why can't she cry?! You don't like
crying? She doesn't know what to do for her baby. She has no idea."

I went and got some other things done.

Dr. Jacque is fresh out of medical school. He
went to school in Togo, Africa and is here for
just one year. When he first arrived I was
amazed at his dedication and compassion for the
patients. But, this place has rubbed him a little raw too.

A few minutes later the doctor spoke to me in
English. "Emily, I don't want you to have a bad
impression of me." I said, "No, it's not
that. It's just that Africa is so
different." I was thankful he had started in
English because I really wanted to communicate a
certain message without scrambling for
meaning-filled words in French. "When I look at
that lady, I just think, 'Africa is hard! Her
baby has got a horrible disease that is wreaking
havoc on his little body. Let her cry!' But
in Africa, why is it that you have to be so tough
and you aren't aloud to just feel how you
feel? I mean, did you see how the woman jumped
to do every little thing you asked for her
baby. They went and bought sugar, she fed him,
they searched high and low for money. She hasn't
been to school. She doesn't know anything about
fevers, about convulsions, about
glycemia. She's helpless to do anything and
convulsions are scary. Let her cry."
He explained that he is tired of
people not searching for the health of their
children. I get that. I think we understood
each other. He also said that he hadn't thought
about her really not knowing or understanding
what would help her child. We've got to talk about these things.
The rest of the night was
hard. Two babies cried almost all night. I
can't sleep because I feel like there's something
I have to be doing…when really: it's all been
done. After all the perfusions have been hung,
after all the wet clothes have been laid on the
feverish bodies, after all the valium has been
given to stop the seizing, everything is just
left to God's larger knowledge. But when I laid
down next to Kristin in the ER, on our blanket
which padded the cement floor….not at all…..I
just kept having to get up and go to "check on"
the babies. What was I doing? Nothing! Just
going to their bedsides and maybe touching their
stomach, watching for breathing. Somehow there
was part of my own heart/conscience that needed
to be treated along with the bodies of all those
sick babies. The treatment I guess was this
absolutely useless "checking on" of the
babies. I want to be a slave to nothing. Not
even my conscience. God give us peace for the
things we are not big enough, smart enough, or
powerful enough to have control over.

Their Thing

2009-01-30T06:46:00.000-08:00

I was talking to my parents on the phone this
morning and told them that I had overcome my fear
of riding horses alone. And more specifically of
riding them to the river alone. My dad said,
"Emily, you really shouldn't go to the water
alone. Just take someone with you when you
go." There is something about being looked after
that is so nice. There is also something about
living on the edge that is so enticing.
So off I went again this morning with Libby,
Ansley's horse. I was riding out the main gate
of the compound when Samedi (my African father)
caught me. "Emily, where are you going?" "I'm
going to the river." "Who are you going
with?" "Myself." "Emily, that's not safe. It's
better if you go with someone else." "Hey, that's
what my real father said just this morning. But
don't worry Samedi. I know how to swim." With
a shake of his head and the use of my favorite
French phrase: "toi la," meaning, "you, there," he wished me well.
I rode out and passed lots of dogs who spooked my
horse a couple of times. I just make sure we
are running really fast when we go by dogs. The
quicker we get by them the better.
I got to the river and tied Libby to a
tree. Then stripped to my swimming suit and
dove in! So cold! I swam for a while and then
swam across the river to this beach where I laid
out in the sand. My mind went from thinking
about the water quality of the river, to my
faucet at home, to the flies that were landing on
my eyelashes, to HIPPOS. At that point I started hearing things.

Sure enough, people were coming. Have you ever
met people who were just doing their thing and
whatever their thing is, it's just so inspiring
because of how they are doing it? It's not like
their thing is some big amazing thing. It's just
something about the WAY they do their thing.

Well, these ladies were doing their thing. Each
of them was carrying a LOAD of long skinny
firewood branches. I couldn't have gotten my
arms around one bundle if I tried.. Please
don't think that by bundle I mean a pile of
kindling. No sireeee. Each stick was like 7
feet tall. Each lady looked like a stick
themselves. Four sticks dressed in big baggy
SHORTS! They were working and noone was telling them what to wear.
As they got to the river, I
realized that they were going to cross. They
hiked their baggy shorts up around their stickish
legs and strode across the current, all the while
balancing the bundles on their heads.
I called out to them, "Mn loogia buja!" You work
a lot! They called back, "Oo Oo!" Yes!
Yes! "Mn pulkaga?" You are bathing, they asked
me? "On pulka, joge joge on dikuna." I bathed
and now I'm going to sleep. "Mn. Gba pulka
danga?" Will you come bathe too, I asked. At
that they leaned all their big bundles teepe
style around a tree and came to join me.
So here we are, in this dirty river,
bathing together. I told them they should get
all the way in that it felt good, but they only
replied, "Kala Buja!" Freezing cold!
After a while of this funny small
talk, I said I was going back over to my beach to
sleep. I got back to my beach and did a snow
angel in the sand. Oh the laughter.
"Wenda, soor shaiga?" An invitation
for tea tomorrow. That, I would love. They
loaded their heads again with their wood and
chatted more as they intensely started out on their hour walk to the market.
Just doing their thing. That way that they do their thing….so great.

Velcro

2009-01-24T10:57:00.000-08:00

This morning, I am 23.

I came home last night after a sweet birthday
celebration of puffy chocolate cake (we were
trying to make brownies….but TIA…this is Africa. J)
After some good laughs with the girls I unlocked
my hut and started getting settled for bed. As
I climbed into my little bug-proof tent, I
realized that I had done laundry earlier that day
and that my sheets and blanket were hanging on a
line over at the hospital. Hmmm…no sheets. No
blankets. I was too tired to walk over and get
them. Plus, the hot evening air tricked me into
thinking that it would be hot all night long. I
was wearing my Indian pants/capris and so my
ankles were quite cold. I grabbed the Santa
outfit that my mom had sent at Christmas (good
times) and wrapped it around my feet. Naively,
I hoped I'd sleep all through the night without
any blankets. Wrong. I woke up
freezing. Really freezing. I pulled my arms
inside the body portion of my shirt and tucked
the sleeves behind my back so no drafts of
freezingness would come in. I just tried not to
think about it and I made it to the morning. I
woke up with this bitter bitter taste of Quinine
(malaria pills) in my mouth. Yes malaria has
caught me. I got up and thought, "Emily, that
was a rough night. But hey! You're 23!"
I went outside and looked around. I judged from
the sun that it was about seven in the
morning. I went back into my hut and grabbed my
running shoes. I banged them on the ground to
get all the scorpions out (ok, so none have ever
fallen out but I have seen scorpions in my room
and I can just imagine how much it would hurt if
one stung my toe) and sat down in my doorway to
pull them on. I went over the middle house and
brushed my teeth really good to get rid of the
Quinine taste! As I was putting my toothbrush
back on my shelf I saw a bunch of the shoes which I still had not given out.
So many of you sent shoes and it has been SO fun
slowly distributing them to kids who I know are
going to use them. I want to tell you my thought
process about the shoes right now and I'm a
little ashamed of it but I think it's valuable to
tell. So don't think less of me. J
I got shoes of all kinds in the mail. I got
Nike, Polo Sport, Keds, all different, new and
used. Amazing! Two of the pairs of shoes were
Velcro and older. They were navy blue and just
old school; comfortable, but not sporty. I kept
thinking that I didn't know who to give those to
because all the kids would be wanting the nice
new running shoes and I thought they'd get upset
if they were the ones who got the old school
Velcro ones. (I had forgotten the appreciative
and content attitude of the Africans.)
My dad has always inspired me to not worry about
what other people think. He wears things that
are so old and we laugh at him because his light
blue work jacket is SO old…a complete wreck
(sorry dad J), and our cross country ski set is
from the 70's and our helmets for biking are
ancient…like mushroom style. J But I love that
about my parents. It's not about having the
nicest things….people will always have nicer
things. So this is why I am a bit ashamed that
I looked down on the blue Velcro shoes at all.

Longwinded…I know that was longwinded…sorry.

Anyway.

This morning, when I saw the Velcro, something
clicked and I thought: Kousummia!

Kousimmia led the pack the other evening. Barefoot runners.
We were running little trails on the flat, dry
rice fields when Kousimmia said, "We are all
birds!" He threw his one arm out to the side
birdishly in flight while the other, long ago
amputated down to a knob, flapped under his shirt
sleeve. Everyone followed his lead and for the
next 3 minutes straight we WERE like a stream of
geese flying south, flapping our arms. These
kids didn't even THINK about how silly we looked. They loved it. So did I.

One winged birds are something amazing. This
was the first time I had seen one.
Kousimmia is a flier, even with just one arm.

The kids make fun of Kousimmia sometimes. Some
bully will shake their arm around behind their
body as if it is detached. They'll laugh when he
misses a shot in basketball. But Kousimmia just
seems to shake it all off. He has learned so
much basketball. He runs. He is learning English really well.

At the airport, Alex gave me a small little copy
of the book, "Jonathan Livingston Seagull." It's
about a seagull who gets tired of the role of
seagulls: eating and perching. He wants
something else. He learns that his wings do
actually really amazing things. He puts behind
him the shame that comes when a bird falls and he
learns to do these high-speed dives from
unimaginable heights. He crashes a lot and
soaks himself in the ocean but failure is absolutely nothing to him.

In the seagull book it says, "The trick is to
stop seeing yourself as trapped in a forty-two-inch wing span." YES!

But Kousimmia wanted shoes. He has
been running with out them….but he wanted
them. So this morning when I saw that pair of
Velcro shoes, I thought, this is the reason the Velcro shoes came.
Taking the shoes in hand, I asked
the kids where Kousimmia lived. They directed
me there and I found Kousimmia's family standing
around with their big bull cow. I stood at a
distance because if this bull simply nodded his
head in the wrong direction, he could put a whole
in you with his horns. The littlest boy held the
cow on a rope and I asked him if he wasn't even a
little bit afraid. He said, "No," and at that,
he hugged this massive cow. Then he crawled
down under the cow and squatted between the bulls
two front legs. This kid is fearless.
I told Kousimmia that I had some shoes for
him. He was thrilled and his crooked side smile
just shot forth. I strapped the shoes on
him. They fit perfectly. HE LOVED THEM! Lace
up shoes just wouldn't work for him because he
can't tie them with only one hand. I said, "You
wanna go now?" "Yes!" So we went. Koomakung,
his little brother (a 6 year old) came with
us. With incredible endurance Koomakung didn't
stop once. I couldn't believe it. It was such a good birthday run.
I can't believe I didn't see the value in those
velcro shoes. It seems like I've got it
subconsciously in my head that we have to have
the best best best! The best is not always the
best…and God knew that. Thanks for sending the
shoes. Especially the pair of velcro
shoes. I'll never think badly of Velcro shoes
again. I promise. Love, Emily Star.

Bitter Defensive.

2009-01-18T02:13:00.001-08:00

Bitter Defensive.

Over and over and over. It happened again. I
want to lay it out for you clearly: this
situation that seems to play out over and over and over again.

Mother and father come to hospital with extremely
sick child. They pay for the
consultation. Doctor tells them what the child
needs to get better. Blood. Pills. Perfusions. Hospitalization.

Parents say,

"We don't have the MONEY. "

This response is almost everyone's
response. Because really, honestly, the money
could EASILY go to another basic need of
theirs. Food. Clothes. Schooling. They have
money, but not much of it. There have been
parents that after they see that noone is going
to pay for them, will pull money out of their
pockets and put it on the table.
It is SO hard to tell who really needs the
money. I'm learning that to pay for everyone's
child's hospital bill would take away all
responsibility of the parent to their
child. It's true. If parents learn that they
don't have to take responsibility for their
child, families will fall apart. And that's not what we're about.

However.

When someone really DOES NOT have the money, when
do we give them a break. When do we say, "Hey,
you need help." Do we step in only when their
right about to die of starvation? Do we wait
for them to walk out of the doors of the hospital
because they can't pay and then run after them
and say…"ok ok ok so you really don't have
money…come back in here." It is just hard to
distinguish when everyone is struggling.

I was presenting the patients to Dr. Jaque for
rounds the other day and the baby in the first
bed was sick with malaria but even sicker because
he was malnourished. Fever, respiratory
infection, and lack of appetite coupled with
vomiting. The doctor took a look at the chart,
wrote for what needed to be done further and I
explained it to the man. He said, "This is too
much. I don't have the money for this. We want
to be discharged from the hospital…to go
home." Dr. Jaque instantly laid into him. "You
want to leave the hospital when your baby is like
this?! Do you understand that he will
die?" The man simply said, "We don't have the
money." Dr. Jaque said, "Do you want your child
to get better? Do you? Do you?!" My heart
went out to the man because I honestly think he
was telling the truth. The man said in a low
stern voice, avoiding contact, "If I had the
money, this would be that simple. But it's not
simple." The doctor was frustrated I could
tell. He sees so many people scamming to get
free care at the hospital. People who can pay
but just don't want to. The doctor said, "Ok,
give me your carne. I will discharge you. If
that's what you want!" Then the man just slowly
handed the carne over. The doctor said, "This
is on you! This is not my fault. This is not
the hospitals fault. YOU are deciding to
leave!" The man just took it SADLY. He hung
his head and frustratedly said, "YES. I know. I
understand. It's on me. It's all because of me."
I asked the doctor if I could talk
to him. We left the ward and I asked him if he
really thought he actually had money. He said
yes..maybe. I said I didn't think he did. The
man was handicapped with no feet…just knobs and
his clothes were really low end. The doctor said
he thought the man had money. I said ok. He
knows these people better than me I suppose. He
went back in and discharged the man. The family
went home. It still gets me. Are we so bitter
and defensive that we can't recognize need? It
is one of the hardest things about this place.

A second story. Same principle. A
young Arab girl comes in with a hemoglobin of
2. She's weak as can be. Frail as ever. She
needs to get blood. She gets checked for blood
type. Then each of her family members are also
checked. The policy here is that we check the
family. If they have matching blood, then it is
their responsibility to give it for their
daughter. So when noone has a matching blood
type, then the volunteers, SM's, and hospital staff volunteer.
The only matching donor was the
girls father. They told him that he should give
blood for her or she would die.

He said, "I don't want to."

WHAT!? It made me so angry. I don't even know
Arabic, but I marched over there to where he was
sitting next to his curled up daughter and gave
him a piece of my mind. It's amazing what hand
signals and facial expressions can do. He just
sat there and stared off into the distance. (Ok,
so I guess they don't do that much) I went back
over to Augustan who had sent away the family. I
said, "Augustan, I am A positive blood
too. Let me give." He said, "No. This is the
family's responsibility. If the families learn
that they can just be irresponsible and that
someone else will pick up the responsibility,
everyone will do this." I REALLY respect
Augustan. But at the same time, I couldn't
justify it in my mind that the little girl would
die a preventable death. It wasn't her fault
that her father wouldn't give blood. That was a
really hard night. There has got to be a better
system. Systems, systems, systems. I know they
are necessary…but I sure am not a fan the ones I've seen lately.

What if the right thing in a situation was not
the right thing most of the time. Are we so
rigid and structured that when God says jump we
say , "oh no Lord, we don't jump…it's
dangerous…we know how this world works God, take
it from us." I don't know what the right thing
is. It's a sticky place here. Lots of sticky situations.

Hard

2009-01-18T02:13:00.000-08:00

I used to look at clothes here in Chad and I
think, HOW in the world do they get so many holes
in them? They must be ancient! Holes
everywhere! Not just in places like the
neck-line or armpits where you would expect, but
holes smack in the middle; and lots of them! But
now that I've been here for 4 months, my clothes
are starting to get holes in them. Wear and
tear. Chad is hard on everything; including me lately.
The last two weeks have actually
been extra hard and I've found myself spending
more time away from the hospital and more time
with my African family. I also have found myself
calling home more often. I have just felt worn down.
After a particularly rough day,
Steffan and I decided to give the horses some
exercise. We started out through the village,
out the east exit. These little kids ran as fast
as they could to try to keep up. One little boy
ran out from his hut and was doing the horse skip
(you know the one little kids do), making the
clippody-clop sounds as his feet threw up poofs of dust.
There are a lot of mango trees here in Chad
(about the only green thing at this point) and
the trail out is lined by them. So as we are
riding, sometimes the branches hang low and you
have either dodge them or close your eyes and
turn your head so you protect your eyes. I saw
one coming up and went to do this, but at the
same time remembered that now there are very
hard, unripe, green mangos hidden within the
branches! I had a little moment of panic and
as the leaves brushed over my upper body I was
just WAITING in anticipation for a mango to hit
me right in the face or
something. Miraculously, I went through the
whole batch of branches and didn't hit a single
mango. The next tree I came upon caught me a
bit off guard. I wasn't paying very good
attention and soon I looked ahead and saw a huge
thick branch hanging low. Not just leaves…this
was the real deal. Just in time, I threw myself
forward onto the horses neck and we barely made
it under the limb. Yikers! It was really
close. I laughed out loud after, a bit out of
shock and a bit out of "Emily you are an
idiot…people only get knocked off their horses by
branches in movies. That was really close." I
could have been hurting real bad.
10 km later we arrived at another village named
Kalymaye. In Kalymaye, Steffan knew the pastor
so we went to his house. He brought us a bench
and let us tie up our horses. He was just
walking out some other guests so we waited. A
swarm of kids gathered around us finding seats
for themselves so they could have a good view for
staring. We hadn't thought to bring any water
with us and so Steffan asked for some. Soon a
kid came out with a bowl of water. It's like
gambling when you drink well water. But at this
point, our odds were better for survival if we
drank bad Giardia water than if we didn't drink
ANY. Soon our buddy came back and we sat down
for some good conversation. His wife brought us
tea. Another tea party. I love it!
We needed to get back…it was getting closer and
closer to sunset. We said goodbye but before we
could leave he insisted that he give us a bunch
of beans. He double bagged them but I knew they
were going to break out of the horrible plastic
once the horses started running. Sure
enough. Like five minutes down the road I look
ahead to Steffan and his horse and saw beans
flying out from either side! One boy took us to
his house and got us more bags for the
beans. We rode the horses hard all the way
home. It really boosted my spirits.
I had another especially hard
day. I can't explain everything that happened,
but all of it combined had left me in tears more
than once. I got home just drained. Esther (my
sister here), at first glance, was so perceptive
that my day had been a wreck. She just came and
grabbed my shoulders and asked me if I was
hungry. I wasn't really so she thought for a
second and then said, "Come with me." We started
walking and as we did some of the boys started
coming with us. Both of us turned around at the
same instant and threw our hands up in a stopping
motion saying, "GIRLS ONLY!" We looked at each
other and laughed because we were so on the same
mind track. We walked all these trails and she
let me vent a bit. Soon we arrived at her
friend's house. She was making supper but went
and got us a bench and brought us water. Then
she brought us some bread. So sweet. I knew
the little kids of the house. One of them is
this super stringy, big-mouthed, feisty girl
named Lucie. She started running her little
fists in circles and saying in Nangjere, "fight
me Emily, come on, fight me!" She'd crouch down
and scrawl out a boxing circle/ring. Right after
she had finished the circle in the dirt, she tap
her hand to the ground all threatening like and
said again, fists in the air, "Come on, fight
me." I told her I didn't want to make her
cry. I told her she was small….like a mosquito
and that I wasn't afraid. If anything could have
made me feel like tomorrow was going to be a good
day, it was this little rough and tough girl wanting to fight me. J
I'm really in love with the people
here, but the work is really hard sometimes
because I'm not fully trained and a lot of the
time I'm on my own to solve problems, in a
different language, with a lack of
knowledge. That, along with the sadness can
really take you down. Wear you down. Put holes in you.
I'm trying to figure out how you get
the downs to not bring you all the way down. But
at the same time, how do you stay sensitive to
value of life and yet not become a constantly
mourning person because of death? How do you
encourage parents to take responsibility for
their children's health and yet not be hard
hearted to someone who needs a break…someone who needs help with money.

How do you be content in a place like this?

Even as I wrote that last sentence
just now, I look at it and think, "We AREN'T
supposed to be content with a place like
this! I AM supposed to look forward to a day
when I won't see the hurting. For now though I
need to find a peace about it all though. That
would be nice. Thanks for EVERYTHING you guys
are doing back home. Your letters and notes of
encouragement help me so much. Thank-you! Love Emali

one of the brothers.

2009-01-08T09:53:00.000-08:00

Mounden, one of the adopted children in my
family, has been intriguing to me from the
beginning. Now he's just precious. He's
15. He thinks. He doesn't know for
sure. None of the kids know for sure…they all
argue about how old they are. No one celebrates
birthdays. Maybe it's because they don't write
down when they are born and when you have 10 kids
it gets hard to remember. But back to Mounden.
He doesn't like to bathe. Our
family teases him all the time. "Mounden
doesn't bathe." Then we pull up his pant legs
to show his dirty calves and feet. Everyone
laughs and he smiles and starts defending
himself. "No! No! I bathe! Mamma! You lie!"
he says to Jolie as she is the ring leader of these common attacks.
He urinated in the corner of the hut two nights
in a row. It's really cold and I'm sure he
didn't want to go outside…so he just let it soak
into the ground of the hut. That did not go over
too well the next morning. Jolie (mother Africa)
was really disgusted and quite mad.
He is super kind. One night I came
home and no one was there except Jolie and
Mounden. Jolie got a phone call and took our
flashlight with her. That left Mounden and I
sitting in the dark. We talked for a while and
then I said, "Mouden! Let's have a tea
party!" He smiled and got really excited. I
went and found some lemonade mix and Mounden got
the wire-basket-coal-fire going. Then we made
our tea. It was so fun and opened up some awesome conversation.
Mounden was born into a family who
had no money. One day, he, his sister, and his
mother came through our village of Bere. Jolie
saw the woman with her two crying children and
asked her where she was going. The woman said
she was here to find food because she had none
back at home. Jolie could see that they were
incredibly hungry and she invited the woman
in. Then she brought a big bowl of hot buille
for her and for the two children. She gave the
lady a bag of rice and about two dollars in
francs. The woman was so appreciative. She
left and went back to her own village with the kids.
Maybe 2 months later, the woman
returned. The woman brought Jolie a chicken to
say thank-you for the help she had
given. Mouden was so skinny and Jolie could
tell that he wasn't eating well. Jolie talked
to Samedi and they offered to let Mouden stay
with them in Bere. The woman obviously didn't
have food to feed the children and she agreed.
So for the last 10 years, Mouden has
been living with my family. Jolie and Samedi
have offered to take Mouden to see his mom in
Cameroon where she now lives. But Mouden
doesn't want to go. He really loves his home
here and he calls Jolie "mama" and Samedi "papa".
Now that is dedicated Christianity
I'd say. This family didn't stop at giving
money or a place to stay for the night. THEY
TOOK A CHILD IN!! It's not like they needed
more children either. We have A LOT of kids in
our house. I am really impressed with how
unselfish that was of them. Now, of course, we
wouldn't trade Mouden for anything.
He is still extremely skinny. I
mean if I didn't know better…I would think noone
gave him food. But this is his own fault. J The
family all eats together and so everyone needs to
be there at meal times. Mouden often runs
around town and misses meal times. When he
comes home, the food is gone. There are never
leftovers in my house. He will learn. He is
growing tall too…so this stretches him out a lot.
Mouden is really good with his hands
and very good at fixing flashlights and radios,
playing with batteries, arranging wires etc. He
is always rigging something up. I gave him some
scratched up CD's that I found in a drawer here
and asked him if he could make a hanging mobile
for baby Galas to look up at. He did. Then
with one of the CDs, he drilled little holes all
around the circumference and then inserted these
tiny little lights. He connected all these
wires to each light and then hooked it up to a
battery. It shines and reflects all around the
surface of the CD. Genius boy. I asked him
what he wanted to be and he said, "A pilot." I
talked to Gary the pilot and asked if he could
take Mouden up with him soon. He said he would
do it. I can just imagine what it will be like
for him! Can you imagine going in a small
airplane for the first time! I think I'll
surprise him…not tell him where we are going.
Somehow, time goes by, and then one
day you blink and realize that someone means a whole lot to you.
We built a pigeon house the other
day. Yeah. From the ground up. Out of mud
and sticks. It is awesome. It even has a flag
pole on top of it….still need to make the
flag. I hauled so much water and we mucked up
mud with our feet! It had that feeling that I
imagine swimming in jello would have. We were
so dirty and not worrying about it. We put mud
on our faces to exaggerate the intensity of our
work. We used mud bricks and threw mud into the
cracks, rubbing the walls smooth. Then we put
long sticks for the roof covered by rice stalks
and then mud on top. It says "the Pigeon House"
across the mud roof. Mouden rigged some doors
and circular pigeon entrances. He bought some
pigeons and locked them in the house until they
learned that it was their home. Now they happily
come back every day and have their little nesting areas in the pigeon quarters.
I miss my brothers, Taylor and
Fletcher. A lot. A ton. A bunch. So these
little kids like to wrestle like brothers and
have water fights and trick me into eating
dirt. Oh brothers I'll pin you good when I get
back. I have a secret wrestling move. No one can get out of it. ;)

tinsel!

2009-01-06T05:32:00.000-08:00

We spent Christmas Eve at Gary and
Wendy Roberts house. They are such Christlike
Christians. Their generosity is like a
reflex. So much a part of them. I fell asleep
on a mattress to my friends singing Christmas
carols. I woke up homesick. Gary gave us a
ride home on his moto. But when I got back to
the middle house, instead of hanging out with
everyone, I just went home…missing my
family. When I got there, Jolie (my
mother here) was sitting around the coals with
two of her cousins. I came and sat down with
them and we just started talking. The
conversation went from America, to marriage, to
how I hadn't showered that morning, to what it
would be like for my family to visit me in
America, to Mouden and how he missed supper and now was super hungry.
I tried to make room for Mouden
(he's 15) to come and sit with us, but Jolie
said, "No! He is a boy!" So he sat at the edge
of the circle of ladies. Eventually, he ended up
in the circle with us…I still don't know how that
happened. J We are all crowded so close,
touching shoulders almost, hovering over the
coals and everytime something was really funny,
Jolie would place one hand on my leg the other
one around my shoulders, and just throw back her
head in laughter. I felt so loved. She told me
that, last weekend, when I went to Moundou (a
city about 3 hours away) for 2 days that she kept
thinking about me and when she wanted to talk to
me, I wasn't there. Then she told me that when
I leave for America, that she would lose a
daughter. My daughter. "Ma fille," she called
me. She even told me that someday, when I got
married, that I must to call her and tell her so
that she could send up balloons for me. I smile
just thinking about that gesture. Oh I just love
her. How could I feel this much love for a
group of people in such a short amount of time.
Christmas morning I woke up early
and finished putting the tags on all my wrapped
up little presents. Then the kids started
coming out around 6:30. Their little shoulders
were all caved forward as they held their hands
between their thighs to try and keep warm. It
was such a funny little sight. All these
freezing little kids with their hands between
their legs. So I brought out all my scrub tops
and some of my other shirts and the kids pulled
them on for warmth. We looked like a child Chadian OR team. J
Then I brought out all the paper
snowflakes that we had made the day before (I
made most of them….it turns out they never
learned out to use scissors) and hung them from
our mango tree. The branches of the tree are
like a canopy that we always sit under so if you
can imagine all the snowflakes hanging at the
same head level…it was so FUN. Then we strung
tinsel and ribbon all over. It felt different
than when I used to decorate our tree at home…but
somehow it still felt so Christmasy!
By this time, the neighborhood had
gathered and I realized that when I wanted to
open presents under the tree, that there would be
lots of disappointed people. So I didn't bring
the gifts out. We were waiting for Samedi (my
father here) to come home from working night
shift, so I went over into one of the huts where
Esther and Dinga were resting on mats.
Soon Samedi came home. He came
into the hut where us girls were and I said,
"Samedi, I have a little gifts for each person in
your family. But I don't have enough for all
those people out there. I feel bad." He said,
"Oh, don't feel bad Emily, we can all come in
here…just the family. I'll go get
everyone." So all twenty of us piled into this
little mud hut. I told them what Christmas
meant to me (kind of chopped up in French) and
Samedi translated into Nangjere. Then I started
handing them little gifts that had their names on
them. I've never had so much fun giving. I
anticipated it would be not that fun…I thought it
would be like me giving hand outs and all the
kids scrabbling to get something. But I think
because each gift had their name on it, they
didn't envy eachothers gifts. All I got were
sweet sweet merci's. And people never say please
and thank-you here. So I was a bit
overwhelmed. I gave Samedi one of those
pack-lights, which he loves (it's the brightest
light he's ever owned.) Mouden got the
mechanical music box…only the inside moving
parts…and he watched it for a long time trying to
figure out how it worked. Dinga got the floam
that the Andreggs sent. Noone knew what it was
and soon I looked over and they were all tasting
it! (floam is like a bunch of little balls of
foam with a jelly-like substance holding it all
together). It looks and feels exactly like the
boulle that we eat! I quickly said, "NO! Don't eat it!"
All in all it was an awesome
Christmas. I missed my family a lot though. I
thought a lot about toasty fireplaces and drifts
of snow. I'm missing everyone a lot. But I
just keep trying to tell myself that the reunions
will be SO good. Just be patient, Emily.

sleepover.

2009-01-06T05:30:00.000-08:00

All of the elements of my own life before Chad
are emerging slowly here. I've started seeing
selfishness, motherly love, prank-playing, bad
money management, best-friendship, and last
night, I saw family problems and elderly wisdom.
There is this little girl named Estella. I have
NEVER seen eyes that lock into mine like
this. First her eyes fill up and find
yours. Then her smile breaks out and she starts
jumping up and down. But even though she is
moving up and down, somehow her eyes never leave
yours. I will video it because I CAN'T explain
it. Never seen anything like it. Anyway,
Estella, her mom and her sister Merci live down
the road from me and they use our well to get
water for cooking, bathing, etc. Her mom's name
is Brigette. Brigette is warm as can be. She's
amazing. She is older but has a bit of the same
energy that Estella does. Her eyes do the same
thing, but it's not as intense…maybe dimmed over the years.
Last night I was sitting on the mat with my
family. It was about 8 pm. Armelle (4) was
wearing her new New Years dress, but got cold and
brought me a huge piece of cloth to wrap her
in. She spun in a circle while the fabric wound
around her. Then she plopped down in my lap
like a little mummy. She fell asleep
quickly. We sang a few songs…head, shoulders,
knees and toes…talked about our days….but soon
were interrupted by some commotion. Ferdina (the
oldest boy who is visiting from another village
for the holidays) came running in and said there
was a fight going on with Brigette.
The five of us got up and went out to the edge of
our wall. There was Brigette. She had run
barefoot from her house and was a little
frantic. She said that her husband was really
mad and hit her. Estella and Merci were still
at home with their dad. Brigette tends to drink
rice wine all the time. She's never out of
control but always a little extra free with her
words and unaware of any personal
space. Apparently, she had gone to the market
and slept there all day, leaving the kids alone
at home (not that unusual in Chad). The father
didn't like that and I'm sure it was an
accumulation of other things…but he told her he didn't want her anymore.
As Brigette told us this I just felt
so bad that someone would tell her they didn't
want her anymore. So, in my totally broken
Nangere, I said, "Brigette. I like you a
lot. You can stay with me in my hut tonight. I
have an extra bed." At this, Jolie wrapped me up
in a hug and burst into laughter along with
everyone else. What? I thought. I was
serious. J Apparently, my Nangjere along with
my offer to stay in my hut was just a little funny. I didn't really get it.

Brigette came in and "hid" with us in our courtyard for a while.

Samedi came home. After he got home, Samedi was
filled in on the story. He LISTENS so well. He
said, "Ok, I will go talk with your husband." Up
he got, and he went over to Brigette's house.
Samedi is seriously one of THE MOST kind and
wise people. All of the people in the village
call him Papa Sam. Samedi started out as a
janitor at the hospital and today he is a
surgeon, doing C-sections, hernia repairs,
EVERYTHING. I am amazed at how much he
knows. Many times he's given me encouragement or
talked to me about the stuff I'm seeing here that
upsets me. He gets up and checks all of our
doors three times each night. He said it's his
duty as the father. He always takes time to
greet the patients and never blows ANYONE
off. He also said told me the other day that he
prays everyday that I won't get sick.
Soon, we got tired and I told Brigette I was
going to bed. I said my offer was serious and
she could come stay with me for the night. She
did. I moved my things off little cot and she
slept there. I tried to give her a blanket but
she said she just needed her little sheet. These tough Africans. J
I love to talk at night before I go to
sleep. When I was younger, I used to sleep on
Taylor's floor and talk his ear off. Then
Taylor was never home and I'd sleep on Fletcher's
floor. I talked his ear off too. If fact,
sometimes Fletcher would say, "Emily, if you are
going to sleep in here, you can't talk….I want to
sleep." Haha. Then I lived with Tara Becker
and I'd go sleep in her room. She also would
tell me that if I was going to come sleep in
there, I had to be quiet. I share a twin bed
with Lisa sometimes and she humors me and talks
with me for a while. Thanks Lisa. :) It's just
that when I lay down at night, my mind really
starts up. It's not my fault…I can't help it.
So I started talking to Brigette as we lay there
in the dark. She answered a few things and then
said, "Ok, Emily, sleep. It's time to
sleep." Hahah. I laughed inside and almost out
loud because even when you come to a completely
new place…some things about you just DON'T change.
Maybe fifteen minutes later, Samedi knocked on
the door. He said that he had just talked to
Brigette's husband. Her husband, after a lot of
convincing, had decided that he would not hit
Brigette and that he would take her
back. Brigette got up and said that she would go
back over there. After she left and the door
shut, Samedi said, "Emily, you should lock your
door." I told him that the lock didn't work from
the inside. He said, "What! It hasn't worked
all this time! Well, you should put something in
front of the door then." He then got me a brick
to put on the inside of the door. I love it
that my family looks out for me. What amazing
people. Amazing, amazing people.

be brave or be human?

2009-01-06T05:09:00.000-08:00

There are those moments when someone starts hurting and you don't
know whether to be sympathizing with or strong for them. Be brave
or be human. Be optimistic or frank.
I'm laying on the floor in the dark OR room where Ansley is now
sleeping on the gurney after Dr. Bond cut out her angry, angry, angry
appendix. Kristen and I are getting ready to sleep here next to the
drain for the night. Ansley's breathing is saying, "whew. ah. I made
it through surgery in Chad with the lights coming on and off because
of lack of electricity and this crazy reality being worse than the
dreams I was having under ghetto Ketamine and spinal anesthesia." Exhale.
Somehow, Ansley has this way of getting herself to believe she is
not sick and setting the pain aside. For example: We were
horseback riding, galloping, and swimming in the Chadian river only
24 hours before the knife cut out the problem from her right lower
abdomen. We are all so grateful that things happened like they
did: Ansley feeling pain in the right place. Bouts of nausea in
the middle of the night. Leukocyte count elevated to 16,000 (high
end normal is 10,000). All of these things pushed Dr. Bond to do the
surgery. She couldn't have waited much longer. It was one BAD
piece of inner organ.
Before Ansley went into surgery she said she was just scared of
hurting during the surgery. She asked for us please to not let her
hurt. We see the anesthesia not working all that well all of the
time here in Chad. The doctor takes the knife to the skin and the
patient jumps because they are still a bit connected to their
senses. Then they have to give a little more of something. After
seeing this, and then knowing that you'd be in the same place, it's
hard to get your mind to feel peace going into surgery. Once you
are under a little bit, it's not like you can say, "Excuse me, that
scalpel hurts....I am still feeling....and I am going to need 50 more
mg of Ketamine...IV push please." No. She was going to be the
patient. I know she was really scared.
Nearing the end of the surgery, with her organs still being pushed
back in through the little incision, Ansley started wincing and
crying/moaning a bit. It could have been just the effects of the
Ketamine. But none the less, it's real hard to see your friend in
pain and not be able to change it. Especially when she asked you to
make sure she didn't hurt. She would move her fingers motioning for
us to take her hands and then when we did she'd squeeze
them. Fortunately, Ansley says she doesn't remember hurting during
the surgery. She does however remember her spinal anesthesia. She
is brave. brave. brave. What a tough girl.
She'll recover really well. Like I said, thanks to Dr. Bond, her
incision is really small and the surgery was really smoothly. She's
getting fluid IV right now (the dreaded IV! She hates them!) and
will sleep the next few days a fair amount. Keep praying for a
courageous spirit to be put inside of her. We love Ansley here. We
need her back in full. Love Emily

skin and bones and teeth and eyes.

2009-01-01T11:42:00.000-08:00

I gave a shot IM (intramuscular) today and there was no "M" on the little boy.

I hate malnutrition.

How does a 3 year old get to have
ankles the size of my thumbs before the parents
see that their baby is SICK! The little joints
are all swollen up, while the skin just hangs
over the bones. I started his IV today and got
worried that when I put the tourniquet on that
his bone might break. The skin is so loose that
it pulls inches away from his little body,
reminding me that his body was never meant to be this small.

He was meant to have a lot more life and strength in him.

He vomits up everything that goes
into his stomach. He just refuses to eat
now. The mothers here use their fingers to smash
down the noses of their babies and then pour the
liquids in their mouth, forcing them to
swallow. The little nasally, nose-plugged cry
is just straight up associated with malnutrition for me.
I keep reminding the mother that she needs to
wash the boys clothes….wash the drape that she is
wrapping him in. I said, "Take off this shirt
that is covered in vomit and get him a different
one." The father kind of stopped and thought for
a bit, "We don't have another one." Ah…. I
remember now. It's not like you wanted this for
your baby…but times are tough. He smells like
urine and it just makes me want to take him away
and put him somewhere where he can actually get
better. These are some of the worst conditions to get well in.
Sometimes I think about all the
people that I could give these babies to back
home. This one could go to the Davis'. This
one could go to my grandparents. I'll bet
Carley Brown would take this one and he'd be a
cyclist someday. I know we can't just change
the world by moving people out of the bad parts
and into the good parts though. We have to try
to make the bad parts good. You'll never move
everyone out of the bad situations. Oh but
sometimes you just want to fly home with these
kids and put them in a bed with covers. You
want them to sleep in a room that doesn't smell
so bad and eat food with vitamins in it.
This is a rather depressing email
I'm realizing and next time I promise I'll write
about something happy. But sometimes I have to
get it all out. I had a little explosion the
other day. J I'll tell you about it sometime
when I get home. You know those moments when
everything has just built up and you LOSE IT!?
Alex wrote to me the other day. In
his email he said he had read recently that
REALITY can be changed by our PERCEPTION! When
we see something as GOOD, we make it
BETTER. Doesn't that just click in your head
when you hear it?! There is a song by Relient K
that I heard again today. It's old. But speaks
about just what I've been experiencing
lately. All these things are just building up
and sometimes it's hard to go into a day and feel
fresh. But I love the last line that I give of
this song. What if today I had no
discouragement and only hope and
assurance. What if I had never seen defeat here
in Chad, and when I walked to work in the morning
I anticipated that God was going to do something
amazing. So here is a bit of the song:

Let it all out.
Get it all out.
Get it out. Remove it.

Don't be alarmed, when the wound begins to bleed.

We're so scared to find out.
What this world is all about.

So scared we're going to LOSE IT.

And knowing all along…that's exactly what we need.
Today, I'll trust YOU Lord, with the confidence,
of a man who has never known defeat.

Miss you all. Love Emily

driving fast in the fog.

2009-01-01T11:40:00.000-08:00

Yikes! Stephan, Ansley and I RACED the horses
tonight. It was the EXACT same feeling that I
have when I drive in the fog. We have a hilly
road called Willow Springs and when it's foggy
and I'm coming home, sometimes I just let go. I
drive the normal speed limit because if something
runs out…I'm hitting it anyway. I know you're
all probably thinking…that's stupid Emily. I've
only done it a couple times…don't worry. It's like a risky, edgy feeling.
The SAME thing with this horse. We
were flying. I can hold the reigns tight but
tonight I just let them go! It was
beautiful! The only thing is that the horse I
was riding is really scared…of everything! He
jumps to the side all the time and you never know
when he'll do it. So you have to be ready!
It was so fun though to let them
fully run! I honestly felt like I was pushing
my luck though. Falling off at those speeds
would really hurt. J We came to a grove of trees
and the sun went down. So we turned around. We
got home and unsaddled the horses and I went home.
When I got home, Jolie was just
going to see her sister. I said, "I'm just a bit
hungry Jolie, is there any food?" She said that
they had saved me some. Cecil, the daughter in
law of Samedi, brought me boulle and peanut
sauce. I sat down in the pitch black with just
a fiery red bit of coals burning. I looked up
and the STARS were BRIGHT!!! Little Galas…the
new baby in our house…started crying. I picked
him up and tried to rock him back to sleep. But
he was hungry and just kept crying. So then I
started singing. I made up a bunch of my own
lullabies. No, you guys will never hear them…I
only made up songs because no one could
understand my English. Galas stopped crying and
I just had this moment…like….Emily! Do you
realize what you are doing. You are singing
lullabies to an African baby outside his hut by
the light of a coal fire. These are the moments
I'm living for here because there are other moments when I just miss home.

christmas star light.

2008-12-23T23:57:00.000-08:00

I'll bet baby Jesus was cold. December nights and mornings are cold
in Africa. This morning I found myself huddled around a tiny
metal-wired whicker basket with a girl named Grace. Inside the
basket are about 6 really hot coals that just send out this circle of
heat. We kind of create a circle with our bodies around this and
trap all the heat between the two of us.
I think about Joseph leading Mary on their donkey (that must have
been a very uncomfortable ride) and just knowing that the birthing
pains were happening and Mary needed to get somewhere where she could
have the baby....and quick! A mother came in the other day to have
her baby and there just wasn't time. She delivered right in the
ER. The garbage can was placed under her to catch all the fluids.
The baby came out screaming like he'd been breathing air all nine
months in there. I got to run the wet little bundle over to the
Maternity ward where we could rub him up, tie off his umbilical cord,
put some cream in his eyes, and take all his measurements. Birthing
can happen so fast. I'll bet Joseph was a little
panicked. Another man came in with his wife and for some reason
didn't go to the ER but came to the Medicine ward where I was
working. He said, "Please mam, my wife is about to give birth,"
and he motioned to his wife who was round-bellied. The maternity
ward room was locked and so we laid her down on a bed. I think
because I don't exactly know a ton about births and I don't exactly
have ANY training in midwifery, I always think the baby is going to
come in the next 3 minutes after they arrive at the hospital and I
hurry around, calling the midwife, finding the key and getting the
things ready....then the baby won't come for like another 6
hours. :) The husband was so worried about his wife. Sweet. She
delivered a few hours later just fine. A curly headed little boy.
Mary had to have been scared. This was her first baby! First
births are hard. I'll bet it was painful and I'll bet she wondered,
"Why in the world did I say yes to that angel!".
The neat thing about Christmas is that whatever the details of the
story, Jesus changed His world, and continues to change it
today. What crazy story for us nowadays...bit people are still
giving birth in mud huts here in Africa. Mothers still arrive at
this hospital on donkeys asking for a place to have their baby.
So here at Christmas I want to say Happy Holidays. Thanks so much
to everyone who sent things for the kids and families here in
Bere. Especially to my mom who sent a Santa suit! :) Tomorrow
morning my plan is to have our mango tree all decked out with paper
snowflakes and presents under it. Then I'll come in dressed in the
suit. I think the kids will cry. Some of them haven't ever seen a
Santa. I'll have a little explaining to do. hehe! Seriously, the
notes and emails I get from you guys sometimes are JUST what I need
for encouragement to keep sinking in here where I'm at. You have no
idea what they mean. Love you all and Merry Christmas. Love, Emily Star.

rainbow.

2008-12-22T07:17:00.000-08:00

Jolie my mother seems to be very very perceptive. Sometimes while
we are all hanging out around the little coal fire at night, I let my
mind drift. It's easy to do because I don't understand enough
Nangjere to catch their conversation. So I just let my eyes watch
the stars and my mind roll around in my head. But Jolie will catch
me and say, "Emily, what are you thinking about? Are you thinking
about your boyfriend?" She gets a really sweet smile on her
face. "Maybe." I respond. She asks me if I've gotten a letter from
him lately....if he is coming to visit. They think Alex is really
good looking. Which he is.
Then she asks me if I'm thinking about my family. She'll ask me
how they are doing. If they are healthy. I believe my worlds would
crash into eachother and produce a rainbow if my parents and brothers
came here and got to meet my African family. It would be that
good. It's something special.
The parents of my house haven't asked me to give them
anything. Nothing. This is really something incredible for this
culture and I've felt so respected by them. People ask me for
things all the time. "Give me your shirt." "Give me your
water-bottle." "Give me your banana." "Give me your hair." The
little kids like to ask for toys, balloons, or pencils.
I've made it my mission to teach the kids that asking for things is
not polite. :) I explain to them that "I want to be your
friend. But when you only say, give me this , give me that, I just
don't feel like I'm a friend. It's not good for me." The
lightbulb just went on in the adorable boy to whom I explained this
to the other day. He said, "Oh! Qui, Qui!" and he very seriously
said to all the other kids, "We shouldn't ask for things," and
grabbed my hand. Sweet.
I was washing my laundry at the well the other day and after I had
finished, a couple of the boys came over. They picked up the soap
bars (thank-you Holiday Inn) that I had been using and said they
liked them. I told the boys they could have them. The older boy
snatched the littler boys away from him and gave him the littler bar
of soap. This irritated me. I said, "Hey, why did you do
that. That was his." He said, "He's younger, he gets the smaller
one." I argued for a bit with the older boy and said, "It's better
when you give the bigger thing to the other person and take the
smaller one for yourself." He just kept shaking his head.
So, I pulled out a whole other bar of soap and placed it in the
hands of the littlest boy. The older boy instantly started reaching
for the brand new bar of soap! I said, "NO! That is for him. I
want to give this to him." Finally after I called him selfish he got
the hint. :)
The other day I was at the market and I had purchased a bag of dried
figs. They are so good...they have a seed in the middle but the
outer layer is like fruit leather. I was snacking on them on the
walk home as I passed one woman carrying a huge bowl of rice on her
head. She said, "Give me some!" I reached in and gave her a small
handful. Then I responded, "You give ME some!" She, without a
second thought and with a very serious face, reached up and took out
a handful of rice kernals and poured them into my palms. I was
slightly kidding with her, but she took me seriously.
Maybe there is something they are trying to say when they ask for
something. Like, "Show me we are friends, give me something of
yourself." Everytime I give without a second thought, I make a new
friend. And what is it to me after all? A few figs that I won't
get to eat. An attitude of selflessness is like a bowl of
onions. It gets in the air and effects everyone. It's easy to be
defensive and be paranoid that you are being taken advantage
of. Sometimes I feel stingy. :)
If someone asks for your tunic, give them your cloak as well. Did
Jesus really mean that? I think He just might have. Yikers. What
if our store houses run out! What if we give everything we
have! What if our baskets of loaves and fish don't multiply?
Then Jesus reminds us.....store up your treasures in heaven. The
moths and rats and cochroaches are going to eat things that we hoard
in our closets. I'm attached to alot of things. Certain clothes,
certain books, certain times of the day. I just don't want to give
them up. Chad challenges us kids to give freely...without second thought.

Sick...but not yet sick of africa.

2008-12-20T20:53:00.001-08:00

I'm sitting next to Ansley looking at her green polka dotted sheets
covering her little burning body. Her fever has been up to 104 and
even though it has dropped a bit now, the Quinine perfusion running
through her "Junk for Jesus" (that is what they call the bad quality
supplies that often gets sent to Africa) IV catheter just gives her
this little-girl-helpless-look. Don't get me wrong.   Ansley is a
real trooper. She rode on a moto with her perfusion in hand, cleaned
our SM room, and even sang hymns while battling malaria. But still,
when people get sick, it seems that some innocent child-like side
seems to shine through.
The room we are sitting in is a side room of the hospital.   The
hospital has a policy that even employees must be hospitalized if
they are going to have an IV perfusion.   You are not allowed to take
all the supplies home and rest there.   So the side room is
completely made of cement.   The only thing in the room is a sink
(where we get clean drinking water). So its so drab.   We carried a
bed mattress over and laid it in the corner and hung her IV perfusion
from the window slats.   "Ansley, I'm a little jealous of you right
now," I told her.   "This is a Chadian experience!"

Still, if we wanted to get the real experience, it would go a little
more like this.

Arrive at the gate and be welcomed by John Jac, the hospital guard,
with this black stick (he's so nice I don't think he'd actually hit
anyone with it). Then we'd go to Urgence where we'd pay 1000
francs....2 dollars....for a consultation where they would take your
vitals, palpate your tummy, feel for your spleen (malaria enlarges
your spleen), check your eyes for anemia and ask you questions like,
"Have you had diahrrea?" and "Are you vomiting?" After this little
session, they might hospitalize you if you need more than just
pills.   So Ansley would take her little box of perfusion bottles and
IV supplies and be taken across the courtyard to the women's
ward.   The full beds line the walls and if you hadn't vomited yet,
the stench might just send you over the edge. Anyway, you'd be given
a bed. If your lucky, the mattress was cleaned by our housekeeping crew. But even so, the mattresses are often urinated on, bled on, or sweated on and these fluids probably soaked deep into
the mattress before anyone got a chance to clean them. Thus, we
advise each patient to bring a sheet to lay down on top of the
mattress (many disregard this advice). You are allowed to have two
people who can act as "the guards of the malade", the caregivers of
the sick.   These people are supposed to sleep out in the courtyard
and be in charge of making food and bringing water for their friend
or relative.   One nurse will care for 40 patients and this would be
impossible if we were giving total care like in the states.
Ansley would probably get to know the problems of each of the ladies
around her and sometimes I wonder if the patients know more about the
other patients than the nurse does. Afterall, each time someone
vomits, has alot of pain, goes to the bathroom, or takes a pill, the
neighbor in the next bed knows.
Being sick in Chad is hard.   It's a physically hard place to
be.   But, Ansley will be spunky again. As I type, the malaria is
being killed off in her blood.

Rice and Mice

2008-12-20T19:42:00.001-08:00

Subject: Rice and Mice.

It's after midnight and I'm sitting in the nurses station.   I'm
sitting down for the first time in 9 hours.   Tonight has been
absolutely insane. But, at the same time, there were moments that
were absolutely charged with God's presence and I felt alive and
connected to those around me.    I just gave my last midnight
medicine to one of the Cheif's daughters.   She is pregnant and
dressed in a sparkling (almost tinsel-ish) red top and a red
skirt.   When I came to give her IV Ampicillin she told me, "I kind
of need to pee."   I said, "Ok, well ,can you wait just a
minute?"   She agreed kind of hesitantly.   I mixed the water in with
the antibiotic and started shaking when she so cutely said, "I really
kind of have to go," and started crossing her legs a bit. We both
laughed a bit as we realized the urgency that somehow sprung up. I
was like, "Alright I'm hurrying!"   We were laughing so much but both
of us knew that was laughing was not good either!   She was really
sqealing by now and so I finished giving the Ampi, clamped her IV,
and told her, "GO!"   :)   So funny.   She ran out back to use the
hospital public bathroom.
She came back laughing still and said she felt so much better.   So
she sat back down and as I was hooking her IV back up and hanging the
new perfusion, a mouse went running across the back metal headboard
of her bed!
Here is where I confess.   Earlier in the night I chased a mouse out
of my nurses station into the patients ward. :)   I felt bad about it
but it's the only exit and I was not letting the mouse stay with me
all night long.    All the patients relatives were sleeping out there
on the cement floor and thought maybe he'd just run through them and
not wake any of them up.   Anyway, this was no doubt the same mouse.
She screamed! We all started dancing around after it ran down the
bed post and around our feet!   Her mom grabbed my arm and we all
just waited to feel some awful bite.   I think everything started
being funny at this point. It was late and noone could stop
laughing.   Then we started talking about eating mice.   They said I
could eat it with rice...that it's really good.   I've been offered
mice on a couple of different occasions....just roasted over the
fire....I've never accepted any of the offers. But we agreed that
maybe if I ever catch that mouse here at the hospital, that I'll come
to their house (he's the chief, I know where he lives) and we'll eat
it.   But then we got to talking again and we were like, ok, this is
probably not the best mouse to eat. "There are mice of better
quality." At this point in the conversation I realized that we were
talking about the quality of mouse meat. You know, when you are in
Rome...you should just talk about the things that the Romans talk about.

A crying child connected the dots.

2008-12-20T19:39:00.001-08:00

A crying child connected the dots.

When I was seven I made this really vivid memory. It's a big deal
that I remember this because I'm notorious for forgetting
everything.   Lisa and Mindy (my cousins) are constantly reminding me
of stories that I can't recall (maybe they just make them up). My
memory is just bad all-around though. I swear if we did research
that my memory would have fewer slots than the other people in the
study.   Anyhow......
The memory that I have is breaking down, crying and running after my
parents who were leaving town for a week.   We were left at my
grandparents house, which I loved, but for some reason I just got all
panicked that they were leaving me and I literally ran after their
car as it drove down Katie Lane, away from little me.
This morning I saw it all happen again. Jolie (my mother here) and
Samedi (the father) were heading out to go to the market on the
moto.   Armelle (3) was going to stay home with one of the other
older girls but as the moto started up, Armelle started gushing tears
and gasping out sobs. She ran after the departing moto and her
little naked body just reached out all abondoned-like.   I went over
and picked her up like I remember someone doing for me.   She just
buried her little head in my T-shirt and cried. For some reason, it
just brought back that memory like I was watching it in film form.
Put something else in her mind, Emily. So I said, "Armelle! Come
see my hut!"   We went in (this is a special thing because the kids
don't come in my hut (they get a bit mobbish when they do) and I
found her a ball to play with.   Then, I showed her my new tent that
Jacob left for me when he went back to America. It's completely made
out of mesh so it keeps the bugs out but you can see through the
walls and you have good ventilation.   Anyway, we climbed in the tent
and sat on the hard ground (the africans sleep on hard ground...I
thought I could too...but after three nights my back really kind of
aches).   She loved it.   I think it felt like a fort because she
kept looking up and touching the walls. Soon, Dinga, came to my door
and so we invited her in.   Then another came in. And then
another.   Soon people were smashed up against the walls of the tent
and i started thinking maybe we should get out. :) But just then
Jolie and Samedi got back from the market. They parked the moto
right outside my hut and as they looked in they both burst into
laughter...a bit shocked at all of us in my tent. These are the
funny little things that I believe God works through to draw lines
between his people to get them all connected again.   I can just
imagine how frustrating it would be to be a spider and have someone
walk through your web and break all the little strings that you spun
all night from branch to branch.   And God must feel the same.
It seriously has been one of my most valued lessons yet here in
Chad.   I can get through anything when my connections to my
incredibly (insert words I don't have here) God and the people He's
put around me......are in strong! Life starts to have perfect
meaning and rich definition.   It might even explode out of the
dictionary because there wouldn't be a definition that could wrap up
all of the facets of blessings that would exist. I've written about
connection time and time again but it just means so much to me here.

Please let this be a silent night.

2008-12-20T19:37:00.001-08:00

Subject: Please let this be a silent night.

Tonight: December 17

Baby born without a hole between his nasal canal and his
throat.   James made one. Baby is doing awesome thanks to awesome parents.
Cerebral malaria comma patient woke up tonight!   Commas scare
me.   He's only 20.
18 year old boy with menengitis. He will recover.
10 year old boy with menengitis.   I honestly don't know if he'll
make it. He's so frail and muscles are so contracted already.
Young girl with nephrotic symndrome.   Her whole body is holding
water and I'm afraid she'll die. The last girl with this same
problem died right in front of me.
Josephine said things were "Lapia".....Good! She seemed in good
spirits and didn't wail tonight. Foot is still very infected.
Dressing changes twice a day now.
Sweet little man caring for his wife. She has malaria.   He is the
best little husband.
Another woman with malaria....it's so bad I don't think she'll make
it....and there's nothing more we can do for her.
Woman recovering from an emergency hysterectomie.   She's had no
children yet. Her husband will probably send her back to her father
and take another wife.
Hippo bite. Man was knocked out of his dugout and into the water by
a Hippo. He escaped with only big bites out of his leg.   Lucky.
PS. This is the same river I swim in.   Ah!
Baby who had a huge portion of the skin on his belly removed because
of infection. His dressing change makes me cringe.

This is only a tiny spoonful of the problems that are resting in this
hospital tonight. I'm listening to Silent Night on the computer
right now and the words are just echoing in this little nurses
station (cement room).

Sleep in heavenly peace babies.
Please sleep through the night.
All is calm and all is bright, Josephine,
....please, let your mind rest for tonight.

3 hours later:

Even as I have just written this email and prayed for this to be a
silent night, I just got back from carrying a lady to the
morgue.   The woman with really bad malaria...she just died. What a
helpless feeling when everything you can do (all the treatments
available) are not enough.   She was 70 and this was the oldest
patient I've seen yet. All of her family will come and get her in
the morning. This is the first time I've actually been in the
morgue.   It still is covered in blood from the massacre in
October. Sometimes this place feels like a real nightmare.

Goodness of Man.

2008-12-20T08:11:00.000-08:00

Stabs through bone take immeasurable aggression.
and here in my heart I lay out this confession,
that I doubt,
and I fear,
Lord it's not clear what was ever GOOD in man.

But deep in us you called something good.
Some spirit, some desire,
I wish that we could,
reclaim the goodness that you placed in us.

I've never been that scared. As the Sabbath closed our SM group
finished singing songs in each of the hospital wards. We walked out
into the main courtyard area and saw some commotion over in the
ER. It was getting dark and we kind of maneuvered around the bodies
that were resting under the mango trees. We stopped kind of amidst
some of them and Sarah asked somewhat urgently, "Would you guys mind
giving us a hand? We need to get these people into the ER." We
looked down at our feet and the people who we thought were simply
napping on the ground, were actually beaten and bleeding mothers,
children and men. We were a bit shocked at first but everyone just
grabbed someone. A few of them could hobble while others were
already dead. Others couldn't walk at all and still others were
unconscious. I grabbed one of the babies whose little dress was
completely covered in blood. Her eyes were wide as the Alantic and
shock kept her from crying. I laid her down on the pink ER bed and
began looking for injuries. I cut off her little dress and pulled
off her crocheted beanie that was tied up around her neck. I found
no injuries. Her eyes were tracking me well now and the shock had
seemingly worn off. The blood that covered her, I came to find out,
was from her mother who was killed.

18 patients were hospitalized that night. This doesn't count the 9
or so who were taken to our morgue.

The hardest part of this ordeal was the senselessness of it all.

One Arab decided to take his cows across the rice field of the
Nangjere. The rice fields and the wells are the sources of life
here, so I understand that this spoke volumes about how much this
Arab cared about the Nangjere. I am walking over your hard work. I
don't care if you get a good crop. But the Arab has to get his cows
to water. For the Arabs, the cows are their source of food. They
drink their milk and sell their meat. The cows pull their
wagons. If only they could have respected each other's ways of life,
this might not have taken place.
The Nangjere man yelled at the Arab to get off his field. The Arab
got angry and pulled out his bow and arrow. Having an arrow pointed
at you would be enough to make anyone panic. The Nangjere somehow
jumped on the back of the Arab trying to protect himself. the Arab
pulled out his knife from his belt and stabbed the Nangjere. He
fell and the other Nangjere women went running home to tell their
families that the Arab had killed their brother!
This is where it began. The attacks went on all night. First a
wave of Nangjere would come in. Then a wave of Arab people. Then
revenge would be had again and so it went. I've never seen such
senselessness.
Women. Beaten so badly that their whole faces were swollen. Knives
into their heads. Pregnant women! I just got so angry and
discouraged with how GOOD people were NOT.
One man was attacked while he was fishing. He was catching
fish. That's all. He was chased out of the water and his wounds
told his whole story. The knife left trails across his shoulders,
all down his back, and across his butt. Someone had just been
slashing him as he ran. Then you could see where he must have gotten
tired. He probably couldn't run anymore or was just feeling like
running couldn't save him. He must have turned around to confront
his attacker. There were deep cuts all across his wrists and hands
and arms and into his lung (he ended up with a chest tube).
The night was spent holding compresses deep into wounds until the
doctor could get to the person to stitch them up. It was spent in
anticipation of the next wave of the battle. By two AM the police
felt like they had enough of a presence that the fighting would
stop. The patients were settled and the dead were at the
morgue. The orphaned and unidentified babies had been given to
families to nurse them for the night. Things had settled a bit.

Everything except my insides-my gut.

I didn't sleep that night. I was too disappointed in
humanity. Too scared of humans. Too tired of being a human on
this earth. I went to Ansley's hut so I wouldn't have to sleep alone.

I crriiiieeed.

What kind of person strikes someone with a knife so hard that it cuts
through their bone and breaks it! I thought people were so good
deep down. But this was challenging a huge pillar of my
thinking. I love people. I always feel like something is good in
people and that you just have to find it. But that night I honestly
was just so disappointed.

The next day was tense at the hospital. A mob of Arabs came in to
pick up their dead and all of us were worried as we saw them move
across the courtyard that they were going to come and kill those who
were healing at the hospital. As the Arabs came in, we saw
Nangjere jumping the fence out of the hospital. Everyone was scared.

The patients healing side by side. Arab and Nangjere bed by
bed. It all spoke of the senselessness. The situation painted a
real ugly picture of revenge and I hope it effected everyone as it did me.

Since that time I've found good in people. REALLY deep-rooted
good. It's a mix in this world. That's all there is too
it. God's hands and the Dark's hands are both molding the same
sculpture. I can't wait for heaven. I've never wished for it like
I did that night.

Strength and Weakness in one little Package.

2008-12-13T23:21:00.000-08:00

Subject: Strength and Weakness in one little Package.

Remeber I wrote about Josephine a while ago? Well, Josephine wailed
again all night.   The most frustrating thing is that her pain is
coming from her mind.    Her foot has got to hurt her (after all,
it's infected down to the bone), but her mind is just amplifying her
pain.   She has a little tube of ketamine for her dressing changes
and she had another ampule of diazapam for these nights when she
screams and yells and keeps everyone in the hospital awake.   But the
ampule was empty and she was crying. It was 1 am and I hadn't slept
because there was one urinary surgery patient whose catheter kept
getting blocked up with clots and I had to watch it's flow closely or
his bladder would swell and he would have awful pain. I peaked
around the corner to see that Josephine was not trying to climb out
of her bed (she has done this numerous times) in an attempt to go
home.   What I saw was strength in a child and weakness in a child
all at once.   Josephine reached down to the floor in the midst of
all her crying and started tapping her 7 year old daughter who slept
on the cement floor.   She tapped her until the little girl sat
up. She was so tired. The said something in Nangjere that obviously
meant, "Come up on the bed with me," or "Come, be miserable with me,"
I'm not sure which. But the little girl followed orders and climbed
up on the bed. Her mom grabbed her arms and wrapped them around her
while she continued in her mentally-disturbed expressions of
pain. The little girl just didn't know what to do and her eyes were
wide. I could tell she was just plain scared.   I went over and
pulled Josephine's grip off her little girl and told her little girl
to get down and go back to sleep.   She layed back down on her cement
mattress. Josephine just was out of it. Mental disease is no one's
fault. But the strength of this little girl was that she could be
the strong one.   When I came to help her off the bed, I could see
tears in her eyes, but none of them were falling.   She was strong
for her mom.   The weakness was that she was helpless to be in any
other situation than this.   Everyday she helps prepare the food for
her mom, she looks after the baby, and she brings her mom water for
all her meds.   This girl is so strong, but not strong enough to
break of this situation.   I wish her mom's leg would get better and
that she could leave this hospital.   The situation just is growing
her up too fast.

Gba. Tuckla duja!

2008-12-02T03:39:00.000-08:00

I walked out of my hut and sat on the big root of our central tree
while I drank buille. It's funny because my family gives me this
HUGE bowl of this mush stuff and tells me to drink all of it. No one
else gets as much as I do. I always try to get someone to come eat
some of it, but they always quickly decline saying, "No, Emily you
need to eat all of it!" But the latest joke goes like this. They
taught me the word for 'selfish' in Nanjgere. Right after they
bring me my huge bowl, they say, "Oh, Emily is so selfish." Then,
they all laugh. I quickly fight back, "No! I'm not selfish! Here,
eat some!" And everyone says "No, no, you are selfish." and laughs
again. They frame me every time; make me look so selfish with my big bowl! :)
Another phrase that has become a wonderful source of laughter sounds
like this, "Gba, tuckla duja!" It means, "Come, fight me!" Mounden
puts up his stickish arms (he is always hungry because he's growing
alot right now) and challenges me. If I can keep from dying....of
laughter, I put up my fists and tell him he doesn't know what's
coming. I tell him he's afraid and rub his head with my
knuckles. Then all the little kids come up with their fists, "Gba,
tuckla duja!" Wrestling is so good.
So much love is growing at my house. This morning, I climbed out
from under my hole-filled mosquito net and pulled on a pair of
scrubs. I went outside and sat next to Esther. After a bit, I
felt the seams of my pants and realized that my pants were on
completely inside out. My family already has fun laughing at alot
of the things I wear and I stood up and stated, "This is not
good." They all started laughing so hard and shaking their heads
saying, "Emmmmiillllioooo! Ca ce pas bon!" I explained to them that
it's dark in my hut in the mornings and that it's hard to figure out
what I'm putting on. It reminded me of a moment that would take
place in my own family at home.
After finishing the buille, I saw the boys cleaning out their hut
and I decided that my hut needed a deep cleaning too. I carried my
things outside. Everyone decided they wanted to help me. I moved my
suitcase. Four, big, drowsy, and dehydrated-frogs came hopping out
and all the kids screamed! No one wanted to touch them and we made
Tony carry them out. Then we moved my other suitcase and ants had
burrowed a hole into the ground....what a mess. The floors are
dirt so the first step was to sprinkle water all over the floor. I
don't know why I never thought of this before because every time I
sweep I can hardly breathe! These Africans are so smart. So we
swept it clean! Oh, it looks awesome! Then, Izeedor started
flipping through my calendar that hangs on the wall and as he did, a
little scorpion scurried down the wall! Not comforting. I think
all the bugs, frogs, ants, and scorpions are out now. I'll sleep well tonight.

break the rut or break my bone.

2008-12-01T22:01:00.000-08:00

I love swimming in my skin. Just my skin. :) Maybe
some of you are thinking, "Emily, too much information." But I can't
explain to you my full circle of feelings without you understanding
todays liberating-skinny-dipping release: exactly what I needed.
I have felt a little discontent the past few days. Maybe
it's because Nathaniel left (the first SM to leave) and I feel like I
am a little jealous of his reflection phase as he settles back home
in Denmark. Or maybe it's because I've been feeling a little weak
and sick lately. Or maybe it's because I haven't spent as much time
with my African family the past couple days...due to the sick
feeling. I know the hospital has worn on me. The hospital smells
especially of disease lately (it's amazing how one infected foot can
permeate a whole ward) and the babies ward is absolutely full (making
me really sad). I've talked to my parents a couple times this week
because of Thanksgiving and it gets me wishing I was with my
family. All these things just seem to whirlpool, forming this hole
of discontentment that I toppled into.
This morning, Ansley and I woke up (we had a sleep-over in
my hut), and decided to go to the river. I wanted to run. She
wanted to take the horses. With a little convincing, we saddled the
horses. I remember riding when I was little and having all sorts of
horse-centered adventures in our barn and around our
property. Quite a few of them involved people falling off. So I've
been a bit timid to ride now that I'm older.
But we cantered out there (edging at my comfort level). We
had some good, mind-emptying talks and when we got to the river I was
ready to get in. We tied the bony horses up and crashed into the
filthy water. After being in for a bit we were like, why do we need
these swimming suits?! We are in the literal, dead, dry, lonely
center of Africa! With that we stripped down to our God-designed
outfits and swam all over giggling so much.
My grandma was the one who taught me to skinny dip. She
might be a bit embarrassed that I'm writing this. But I'm in Africa
and so she can scold me later. :) Priest Lake holds many fond
memories of skinning dipping off of the dock and sailing off the
diving board. There is JUST SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
As I pulled my clothes back on at the river's edge, I
thought, 'Sometimes you have to just break the spiraling feeling of
discontentment'. You have to do something to remind you that, yes
in fact, you are PRESENT in a place that requires your attention and
energy and APPRECIATION. This is true for all of us. It happens to
me at college and at home too...that rut that has to be broken.
And broken it was. Just as we got our clothes back on, an
Arab cow herder walked on the scene beckoning his forty massively
horned cows (this is my new fear...I'm not afraid of dogs anymore) to
come and drink at the water's edge. It was so classic. We got back
onto our horses and took off home. When I was riding, the wind felt
like it was pouring through my clothes, in my nose and through my
hair! We RAN those horses home. I kept thinking, "Don't break a
bone...don't break a bone." But as I surrendered to that fear, I
could tell I was starting to trust the horse...galloping through the
rice stalks and past the huts! I kind of even liked it when the
horse would clear his nose and the spray would hit my legs...maybe
you would have to experience that to see why it is so cool. :)

a 'good' whipping.

2008-11-28T09:40:00.000-08:00

My little buddy sat on the salmon-colored examination bench. He had
dropped his pants and they hung around his ankles as he sat bare
butted. His bandage was dirty and I peeled the grippy tape from his
little leg. The tape sticks SO well to dry skin. In fact, as I
peeled it off, the top layer of brown skin came off with it. Almost
healed was a clean slice about 3 inches long on his upper
thigh. The dressing change only required washing the healed wound
with bleach water and scrubbing some of the dirt from around the
edges. It really looked quite good. I asked him if it hurt as I
washed it. He said, "No, it's ok." As I put another piece of tape
over the wound, I asked him how this happened. I thought it was a
weird place for an injury like this. He said, "My teacher hit
me." Uhg. This kid had to come to the hospital because his teacher
hit him with a stick. The stick had cleanly laid open his his
leg. I felt ANGRY. I finished my shift and went home.
Showing up at home is usually such a joyful time because the kids
come running to greet me and there is usually food on the little coal
fire. Everyone is so relaxed and usually laying on grass mats just
talking. I love it. But today was different. Everyone was kind
of tense. I went and got my things to shower and walked towards the
little mud enclosure where we shower and pee....(the same
place...yes, I know). Right before I went in though, I heard some
commotion. I turned around and saw Izeedoor (remember he's one of
my favorites) and Tony (he's twelve and one of my other favorites),
arguing with eachother. Then out of nowhere, Jezue (the
oldest...he's married and just had the new baby) came onto the scene
and he was furious. I have never seen him like that (except one time
when he got into a fight with the neighbor). Usually he is so
kind; so compassionate and loving. So I was a little shocked. He
came out of nowhere with a long stick in his hand. He started
whipping both of the boys and yelling things I didn't
understand. His first hit broke the stick over Izeedoors
shoulder. My heart cracked. The next few hits made my muscles
tense all up. Tony escaped but Izeedoor got caught by the neck of
his shirt and dragged over under the central tree in our
courtyard. Jezue reached up and broke off another branch from the
tree with his one free hand. Izeedoor got the whipping of his life.
I couldn't watch. I knew I couldn't stop this. There were people
I respected alot that were simply letting this situation play
out. I just went into my hut and sat on the edge of my cot. I
just could not bear to watch.
I've sat on the edge of that cot many times after shocking
situations here in Bere. It's a familiar position now. When the
screaming stopped it was replaced by crying. Just sobbing. I went
out and walked over to Jolie, my mother here. I asked her why he
was treated like this. She told me that Izeedoor had insulted his
uncle...that he is little and needs to respect his elders...that it
was good that he got this beating. Uhg. I told her it was not
good for my heart. She nodded that she understood. Izeedoor stayed
hidden behind the tree for the next two hours. I wanted to go over
and just hug him, but culturally, I needed to let him stay there and cry.
Just because something is CULTURAL doesn't mean it's right. I am
learning that this is true. I am also learning that BECAUSE
something is cultural, you must understand the culture before you
pass judgment. Deep down...actaully....no, not even that deep
down...pretty superficially...fairly clearly...I knew this was not
right though. I hated seeing him hit so hard. I hated seeing such
unharnessed anger.
This last summer I worked at camp and we watched the NOOMA videos
(by Rob Bell) on Sabbath mornings for staff worship. One of them
was about anger. It said that anger is not bad in itself. It said
that God was angry at times and there were times when Jesus was
motivated by anger into some action. But it talked about how the
way that you channel your anger is what determines the purity of
it. Does it motivate you to bring about rightness and
goodness...bettering the situations that are wrong? Or does is
motivate you into simple revenge; perhaps hate, grudges or uncontrolled rage.
I have so much to learn and I was talking to Samedi (the dad of my
household and the head nurse at the hospital) this morning over
breakfast and I said, "Samedi, I have so many questions but I don't
have enough French to understand the answers yet." He laughed and
said, "You'll get there, Emily."

when your heart stops.

2008-11-27T23:57:00.000-08:00

The gate to the front of the hospital is so creaky. It opens
towards you and I ALWAYS slam into it when I try to leave the
hospital....can't I learn to PULL it to open it? A crowd had
gathered right outside the gate and I walked over to see who was
coming to the hospital at 2 am. It could not be good. A woman was
there in the back of a wooden-cow-drawn cart. She was laying amidst
a bunch of rice bags and her family members were crowded around
her. She was really stiff and when she threw up she could hardly
move from the position she was in which caused her to be a mess. The
family had her wrapped in a blanket tightly and so all we had to do
was pick her up like a mummy and put her on our stretcher. We
carried her into the delivery room because they said she was three
months pregnant.
She was so cold. I have never felt anyone so cold before. The
temperature didn't even register on my little glass thermometer. If
she hadn't talked to me I might have guessed she was dead. I tried
to take her blood pressure but it was no use. I couldn't hear a
thing. Augustan tried to find her pulse but there was nothing in
her wrists and he went up to her neck and found a faint beat. I
grabbed my little Costco blanket (thank-you goodwill) that I'd been
sleeping on just twenty minutes before and we tucked it up around her
and over her head. She was so cold.
Next, we searched for a vien on her. All of them were so clamped
down but finally the IV was started on her forearm. Fluids ran in
and this let us rest a bit easier. James had been called and
slipped into our crowded delivery room. The woman had been bleeding
for 2 days now and this indicated that it was a spontaneous
abortion. She was taken into the surgical ward where they preped
her for a curettage. They needed to clean out her uterus. It was
one of the messiest things I'd seen. The woman was given some
ketamine and the surgery began. She was hooked up to a heart monitor
and the beeping played this little one-noted song.
Then, it all stopped. We heard nothing. No more song. One of
the nurses jumped and started thumping her chest. James stopped
them and we waited a little longer. Everyone just held so
still. You see here in Chad you are at the mercy of alot of
things. When a baby is not breathing well, it's not like you can put
her on a respirator. It's not like you can monitor the increase and
decrease in pulse all through the night for every deathly ill
person. And it's not like you can jump start a heart with a
defibrillator. You simply do your best and when people pull
through, it doesn't ruin your day and when they don''t, it really does.

Soon the beeping came back...her heart started again.

I hated hearing that silent sound. It was stressful. James
explained that she was just so cold and that maybe everything just
constricted for a minute or two. The woman pulled through and the
morning came for her.

fulthankday.

2008-11-27T01:45:00.000-08:00

thank-ful list!

-thankful for health. i am not doubling over in pain from bad
bacteria crawling along my gastrointestinal linings.
-i haven't had malaria. miracle.
-i have amazing mom who sent me a Santa suit to Africa! I'm so excited!
-i work with absolutely incredible people at Bere hospital.
-the two littlest kids in my house make me smile so big that I almost
let out a gaspy sob of joy.
-i wake up without an alarm at 5:30 most mornings...I've never been
more rested.
-i fall asleep easily with lots of noise.
-the people love to run here.
-i don't feel like I'll die of heat.
-the mornings are even cold.
-the river is close.
-i have dried milk.
-there is a guitar here.
-we have email ever tuesday and friday.
-i have a clean water source. never have to purify my water.
-there are lots of colors in Africa.
-i have time enough to read here.
-when i go home there will be vitamins and vegetables and fruit right
at the grocery store.
-i have a phone that my parents can call me on.
-spices.
-stars.
-bucket showers.
-coal fires.
-my mosquito net.
-pictures on my hut wall.
-here, the world is not quietly telling me i should be something that i'm not.
-francs.
-peanuts.
-bruille in the morning!
-wonderful paths to walk around town.

this is.....more than enough to give praise for.

The poor man built his house out of mud...and the walls went washing away.

2008-11-25T11:11:00.000-08:00

When people clean here it seems like one of the dirtiest things
ever. I jogged through the village this morning. All the women
were out sweeping in their dirt yards, throwing up dust all over the
place! This dust consists of the dried particles of everything they
let drain on to the ground...yikers. I almost choked a couple of
times. Then the men add to the haze with their little smoking
circles and the Arab cow herders by driving their cattle right
through town. What are they thinking? The children are burning
trash on the paths and so the mornings have this thick orange cloud
to welcome them in. It's actually kind of cozy...like a campfire
feeling every morning. The kids wear little parkas for the first
hours of the day and I even saw a little boy in a snow suit. Who
sent a snow suit to Africa? Confess now. :) They think it is
cold right now. Sure...it's a bit cool in the mornings...but it
takes two hours and we're back to the blazing heat.
The sky is big here. You know when you go to a very flat
place...maybe parts of Wyoming (Tara you remember this?) you see more
sky than you do land and so the sky FEELS bigger. It's blue I'm sure
but the sun is so bright that I can't ever gaze up long enough to
appreciate the blue. The rainy season was GREEN! And wet! The
first week I was here, we took a walk to the river, which, at that
time was like walking through mash potatoes or something. Everything
was soaked through and through. Nathaniel acquired worms on this
trip. Apparently you can get them right up through your feet
(especially when walking in wet lands). This is what has deterred
me a bit from running around barefoot. That and my father's scolding. :)
I tried to think of some comparison for the houses here. I thought
of a gingerbread house and how a really good one is made of only
edible materials. The huts here are a collage of ALL natural
things. The mud bricks (mud, water, sand, some vegetation and alot
of heat), the branches for trusses, the grass roof, the grass ties
around the trusses, and the dirt floor. You could smash this house
down and not leave a bit of garbage. Kind of neat. But when the
rainy season comes, houses are destroyed left and right. The mud
walls just disintegrate and there is alot of rebuilding done after
the rains stop.
One night, at like 10:00 p.m., I was in my hut, sitting in the dark,
just listening to the rains crash on my tin roof (yes I have a tin
roof...this has kept me quite dry.) It's a crazy sound. All of a
sudden a woman was yelling outside of my door. She was banging for
me to let her in. I was already totally out of my element in this
crazy storm and was afraid of what I'd find when I opened the
door. I cracked the door and as soon as I did the wall of rain hit
me. Remember, this was the first week. My french was really awful
and the rain was demanding that we shout over it's ruckus. I
couldn't understand anything she was saying but, as we stood under my
door frame, I could hear with my eyes that she was worried about her
baby...that he was sick...that she had no money...and she wanted me
to fix it. The mother was drunk and I was scared. Since I live
right next to the hospital, I told her rather shortly, to go over
there; that there were nurses there to help her. She only shook her
head and ran off in the rain, trying to stay under her umbrella.
There I stood. Not knowing if I had done the right thing. Being a
little disappointed at how I had reacted. The questions started
parking themselves in my head: How did she know where I lived? Was
the baby really sick? Why was she so panicked? Should I have at
least brought her in my hut, out of the rain? Maybe she really
didn't have any money and this was why she didn't go to the hospital.
I closed my door and ran my hands over my clothes. Soaked. I
pulled them off of me and as I did I realized that the walls of water
had been hitting my dirt hut, throwing mud all over me. I was soooo
dirty. But my mind couldn't stop running this weird situation
through my head and all I wanted to do was sleep. After I got my
muddy, wet clothes off, I just climbed into bed and put ear plugs
in. The morning brought clearer thinking for me. I washed up and
ate a cup of bruille. I don't know where the woman went. I wish my
reaction could have been a little more loving and less fear motivated.
I think we can kick ourselves for not acting this way, not doing
that just a little bit differently, not biting our tongue, not being
a better friend, sister, or teacher. But kicking ourselves just
leaves us all beat up. Instead of being resilient and rising up, we
just look like the beaten puppies of Chad (animal rights activists
have a lot of work to do here). We're mistake makers. We're
imprefect. We'll never be perfect until we get out of this
place. Bounce back. Attempt. Pray. Fail. Learn. Try again.
Everyone makes mistakes. Hopefully next time a woman comes banging
on my door in the middle of a fear-inducing storm I will react
better...I'm not sure when that will ever happen again. :) You never know.

Josephine.

2008-11-25T07:44:00.000-08:00

Screaming. I was sitting in the nurses station, sketching,
journaling, and waiting for the next nurses to come take report, when
we heard crying. We ran into the next room and saw Josephine
wrapped up in her daughters arms, her eyes rolled back into her head
and mouth moving in completely unnatural ways.
Josephine is so sweet. She has corn-row braids that follow her
scalp from her forehead to the back of her neck. She's missing her
front two teeth. She came to hospital maybe a month ago. She was
rushed here after a moto accident that left her bone sticking out of
her ankle. An open fracture. They put her back together in
emergency surgery and now she has been resting in Bed 6, taking her
antibiotics and getting dressing changes on the crater of infection
that the bone left. Everyday she is really chipper. Somehow she
creeped into my heart with a chair and has stayed there the past few
weeks. She only speaks Nangjere and every morning when I ask her,
"what's going on?" she simply says, "nothing..." and smiles. We
have talked about her leg, if she's hungry, if I had worked alot that
day....very simple conversations since my Nangjere is oh so simple.
The daughter was up on the bed with Josephine, trying to manually
close her eyes as I imagine the contorted expression was scaring
her. But in the process she was pushing Josephine's neck down to her
chest, completely cutting off good airflow. This is a really
common reaction of the people here. I have pulled so many parents
away from their children because they are panicking and smothering
them. We pulled her sister off of her. We checked Josephine's
pulse. Normal. Called the head nurse. The head nurse then was
Augustan, a really good nurse. Josephine kept seizing. Her neck
would whip back and forth and her hands clench down on mine, sending
muscle spasms up her arms as well.
There is alot of witch-craft and meddling with dark things here in
Chad. I don't completely understand all of it. I know that alot of
times people will try witch-craft first to fix their health problems
and then when that doesn't work, they come to the hospital (alot of
times with all their money used up). Josephine had an episode
somewhat like this when she first came in and Augustan believed it
could be something spiritual that she was dealing with. He gave her
a drug to calm her down and Kristen prayed for her.
She settled down and the crowd started to disperse. She still
hadn't responded to any of us; hadn't recognized us. I started
asking her what her name was. She responded with her full African
name. :) "This is Emily, Josephine." She said, "Lapia", the
greeting here. I just kept fanning her and half singing her
name: "Josephine...." to which she responded in a sing-song tone,
"Emaleen" which really humored me that she had rhymed our names
together. I asked her how she was and she responded with a answer I
hadn't heard before. I asked the sister what she had said, and the
sister said that Josephine had expressed that things were not going
well. I asked if we could pray again with her now that she was
conscious. Josephine said, "Emily, there is only one God." I
agreed and so we prayed. She said,"Merci Buja, Merci Buja," still
grasping my hand. We stayed and talked a while longer through
broken Nangere, broken French and lots of smiling. She asked me to
stay and eat with her, but I told her I needed to go, that maybe
tomorrow I would eat boulle with her. She said, "Yes". She asked if
we could pray one more time and then if we could pray tomorrow as
well. I said for sure we could.
I went back a little later and peaked around the corner. She was
sleeping soundly. God can work his good and life changing magic
against the magic that so many people have meddled in; the dark magic
that destroys their lives. I wish that we came to God more often
with each other. Just stop to talk to him. How will our father
know us if we never talk to him. I hope Josephine wants to pray
together more. Maybe we can pray together in the mornings. I'll
have to ask her.

Fw: Getting the party started.

2008-11-23T20:46:00.000-08:00

GETTING THE PARTY STARTED

Have you heard people say that you are a painting of all your
choices.   That you reflect what you choose in life. They say that
you are the one at the wheel and your ability to drive, put on the
brakes, pedal to the metal, navigate (or get real lost) is the beauty
of human choice.   I've always kind of thought that way.   But what
about the people whose mothers never took them to a steep hill to
learn to drive (stick shift) and are suddenly given the junkiest car,
the longest road, and then told they have to drive, blindfolded,
through downtown Seattle at rush hour. Short sticks drawn, bad hands
dealt; where is the freedom to choose the high road? It's more like a
survival mission for some people.
What we have isn't what we would have always chosen.   And that's just ok.
I just keep thinking, "I'm not usually some patriotic-flag-bearing
rallier, but I sure do recognize that the balance has tipped in my
favor as an American."

I am so thankful I wasn't born in Chad.

There I said it.

It feels like I shouldn't being say it: like it's an unspoken truth
that, when spoken, just reveals me as quite spoiled.

The freedom for us isn't in our ability to make the choice of every
left right and rest-stop on our path.   God knows that we've all
tried to make choices that were met with big rocks that we couldn't
do anything about. We were handed things that we had to deal with
even though we never asked for them. Maybe our free-ness is the
ability to choose a direction and be motivated to keep in that
direction no matter what we get put on our plate. Directionally motivated.
Alot of people here are directionally motivated.   They don't have
much, but they're putting it use to move in some direction that they
can call good.
The other night we had a party.   Chadian-style party.   When I think
party, I think of a certain atmosphere. You know. Celebration. The
host and guests bringing the best things forward to share. Lots of
effort made to connect with people.   I was really curious how that
same atmosphere would be created here because I didn't know where we
all were going to sit (chairs are a bit of a luxury here), what we
were all going to eat (do they have other things besides rice?), what
we would all talk about (such a language barrier sometimes), or if
we were going to listen to music (static radio maybe...). How was
this party going to get started?
People started arriving.   The guests came in the front courtyard
gate and the air was so partyish.   Everyone was anticipating food I
could tell. Nathaniel told us not to eat...that there would be alot
of food.   I saw little "tables" all set up with the "china" set
out-all mismatched. They had these savory "crepes" and the CHOICE of
two different sauces!   There was a second course of JUICE!   The
third course was rice boulle (with more sauce) and by this time we
were full.   The vegetarian (non-goat) sauce was this green leafy
sauce that I just knew was not a good party food because everyone
would have green stuff in their teeth!   But just as i was thinking
that, the host walked around and gave us each a toothpick for our
teeth!   "That was a very awesome Chadian party thing to do," I
thought.   We all left full and went to sundown worship at the
church. It was the beginning of the Sabbath. We agreed that the
party was not over yet though and that we would all come back to the
hut for a bon fire (rare in Chad because wood is a bit scarce), for
singing, some chadian dancing, and for a 4th course of food.   The
fire was going when we arrived and worship continued in singing,
guitar, african drums and then moments of silent contentment that
also is such a form of praise. There was even some teaching of
African traditional dance that made us all laugh SO hard. It was
like a "just shake your body violently and move your hands around"
dance. I'm so glad I wasn't pulled up to give a
demonstration.   :) The party felt so celebratory.   I couldn't
believe how what they had was used to move us all in this direction
of connectedness!   The extravagance was in their generosity not in
what they put on the dinner table.   It reminded me so much of the
woman who gave so little but it was all she had.   Jesus said she had
given all she had and that meant the world! What a party when people
put their best forward for YOU.   You just feel it.

Fw: i am a disco dancer

2008-11-23T17:30:00.000-08:00

I AM A DISCO DANCER

Daniel (a local Chadian French teacher here in Bere) and I stopped
for two seconds, waiting for Ansley and Jacob to catch up on their
bikes (if only they would stop taking breaks to smell the
flowers).   But two seconds was plenty of time for the mob to close
in.   No one asked, "Where are you from?" or "What's your
name?" Nope. Just good-old, silent, arms-crossed staring. I don't
mean like three people either. One person seems to be permission for
twenty-five others to join in the steady gaze.   I'm fairly used to
it by now, but sometimes I want to just give them something to look
at.   Maybe do a dance, start singing a loud solo real off tune, or
run at them screaming like a crazy girl.   Then they'd have something
actually interesting to watch. :) But I was too tired to do
anything interesting and I just let them stare. But then Daniel said
something that struck a beautiful chord in me. He was also at the
center of this ring as we waited and gave a quizzical look directed
at the spectators and kindly pointed out in French, "What are you
looking at kids? She is a person just like you."    I'm a person
just like you!
Before I came here to Chad, Fletcher, Laura, my dad and I went to
the fair. I love being a third wheel with Fletcher and Laura.   They
are so fun.   Of course my dad is absolutely the best so it was an
evening to remember. Fletcher, Laura and I decided that we wanted a
funnel cake. The line was pretty long in comparison to the Elephant
Ear line but we decided the wait would be worth it.   Soon, the
greasy wall of hot air hit us and we knew we're getting close to the
front. We'd been standing in line with other drooling patrons for
quite a while and so I was starting to feel a little bonded to
them. I decided I would comment on our common ground. I leaned
forward to the girl ahead of me and said, "Wow, I almost caved in and
just got an Elephant ear." The girl totally didn't hear me. Or
maybe she just completely ignored me. Either way, I was left hanging
on my last word, waiting for a response that wasn't coming, while
Fletcher and Laura laughed hysterically at my very unsuccessful
attempt to connect to this girl.
Common ground (when you stand on it) is awesome.   Sometimes here in
Africa it's like, "Wow, we are from really different worlds. What do
we have in common?" But then there will be times when I connect in
funny moments like when my mother here did a cartwheel triggering a
gymnastics session together or when Mounden sang, "I am a disco
dancer" (thank-you static radio) or when we played soccer out in the
blazing sun behind the church.   Connection! Gotta' keep trying to
connect to people.   Even if you get shut down from time to
time.   Even if attempts at connection fail. The few times when
sparks fly and you, for a few seconds, actually feel like you're
reading the same page of the same book and laughing at the same
parts....So worth it.   Risk-to reward ratio: Very good.

Fw: handle that

2008-11-23T17:27:00.000-08:00

HANDLE THAT.

I really don't think I can do this.   I am NOT a nurse.   I feel like
a second grader on move up day; the day where for one day you got to
try out being a third grader.   They give you division and
multiplication problems and ask you to write haiku poems; things
you've never done before. Inside your little challenged mind you
think, "oh I want the teacher to like me, I want to succeed here, I
want to be able to be this...but I really don't think I can do this."
Last night I worked a shift called "night shift."   Maybe they
should call it, "eternity long shift," because it goes from 3pm to 8
am. I worked with another nurse named Augustan 2. He is truly
awesome. But right now he is sick.   I don't think he ever got rid
of malaria the last time he had it.   He was vomiting all last night
and couldn't help me work.   I asked him not to go home though
because I can't be the only one at the hospital....I need someone to
ask medicine questions to, to receive emergency patients, and to just
be there. He stayed and slept in the delivery room.   As he shut the
door behind him, I stood in the hall of the Isolation and Maternity
wards thinking, "I really don't think I can do this." The wards are
so full right now because it is right after the rice season and
everyone is 'rich'. Isolation. Completely full. Maternity. No room
left. Pediatrics. Not a bed open. Women's Ward. Overflowing. Men's
Ward. Surgery patience galore.
I had come at three o'clock thinking I'd have a break to run home
and get blankets and my light and eat supper. Somehow we found no
time for leaving. This kids blood transfusion clotted off. This
baby needs Diazapam because it's convulsing. This baby's IV is so
infiltrated it has a little balloon of water stored under his
skin.   Start the IV for woman in the ER. Give the meds for 6
o'clock. Take the temps of any critical babies. Run back and forth
between wards. That's all there's time for now.
So I never got to go home.   My family was so sweet and when I
didn't make it home, they showed up with a cute little pot of this
oil pasta.

At about 10:30 pm I thought I couldn't do this all by myself.   I
hit rock-bottom and I've decided that was the best thing for me right
then because when you bounce a basketball on hard ground it bounces
back.   If you don't hit hard, you'll just drag the rest of the
night.   I had a good little session of
prayer/star-gazing/remembering how all these things turn out
fine/positive self talk (thanks Janet...health psych) and said to
myself, "buck-up Emily. tough it out. go-get-em!" :) I give God's
presence, through his stars, the beautiful praise music (that was
for some reason still playing over the hospital's make-shift sound
system), and the bugs (that reminded me I was in Africa and this is
an amazing opportunity), the credit for my surge of energy. The
night was still long. I had a million meds to give between eleven
and one. But at one thirty I laid down for a rest outside of the ER.
I can never wait for the sun to come back in the morning.   It is so
lonely because the patients sleep so soundly.   I tried waking one
little girl up for her midnight breathing treatment and her mom only
rolled over and said she didn't have any of the medicines left. I
stood there waving the medicines infront of her face and said that I
knew she was tired but we needed to give her daughter the
treatment.   When the Africans sleep, they sleep hard. The patients
who don't sleep are the ones who are crying or in so much pain they
can just lay there or sit up in bed in silence. It's eerie and I
always look forward to morning.
At four-thirty I went around and gave all the other meds.   Still
pitch black. My battery from my phone was running low from it's
substitute job as flashlight all night long.   But the light creeped
up and I got a this really peaceful feeling.   I had told myself I
would praise God when I saw the morning light.   I look back on it
now and realize I should not have waited. I should have praised him
at 10:30.   At rock bottom. Because rock bottom is what sends me
up....sends me sky high. Rock bottom makes us different
people. Stronger, more God dependent people.   Augustan needs IV
fluids I'm pretty sure. He can't have anymore fluid left in him.
God never gives us more than we can handle.

Fw: ouch. hum-dee-dum. i'm tough

2008-11-23T17:26:00.000-08:00

OUCH. HUM-DEE-DUM. I'M TOUGH

When I change dressings on people's wounds I often make this
face.....I wish you could have seen what face I just made...but it's
like kind of my eyes tense up and my forehead gets real wrinkled. I
just know that bleach water in a cut has got to feel just awful. But
I also know that the pain they feel is the road to a healed foot, an
abdomen that can carry another baby, or a closed up lung that can
actually hold air again.   There is a song by Relient K that says,
"the end will justify the pain it took to get us there." But still,
when I stuff stinging gauze into a two inch deep hole in the side of
someone's leg I can't always stop my face from taking this
shape. Wow, these people are tough though.   The other day we were
waiting for a premi baby to be born and taking guesses on how big it
would be, when all of a sudden, the baby came shooting out and lay
right there on the table. I grabbed it and took it over where we
could clean it up (it was already screaming loud.) The mother hadn't
even made a sound when she delivered the baby! I think I am getting
a false impression of just how painful child-birth is.   In reality
it's probably not as easy as they are making me think it is. I
thought I was tough. These people put me to shame.

Sister-in-laws....

2008-11-23T17:24:00.000-08:00

Subject: sister-in-laws.

So last night I worked the night shift and about 11pm a man came in
with his foot bleeding a bit like a river flows.   He hadn't brought
any record of medical history, no money, and I could tell he had had
a bit too much to drink.   Anyway, long story short, after he tromps
all over our ER, dripping blood everywhere, almost falling over, I
finally got him to go sit down.....outside.    I'm so
compassionate.    :) We soaked his foot in bleach water (ouch)
and he told us a bit about what happened. Apparently, he had gotten
into a fight with his sister-in-law.   She had taken a rice blade to
his foot and his brother brought him into the hospital four hours
later (did he just sit there at look at his foot bleed....I don't get
it).     I couldn't help but laugh just a little bit.   Then I
thought about how I am going to have a sister-in-law so very soon! I
started trembling at the thought. I had just seen evidence of how
crazy a sister-in-law could be.   :) Taylor and Nilmini will get
married in Loma Linda just after I return in March. Ok, ok, so the
truth is, I'm actually SO excited to gain a sister.   Nilmini is
amazing and even if she came at me with a rice knife I think I could
take her on. :)
As I cleaned up the blood from this man's stitch-deserving gash, I
thought about how Fletcher and I have already had so much fun with
Nil when she comes to visit...it's like making up lost time on
getting to know a sibling that you just recently met. Can't wait for
your wedding Tay and Nil.

Fw: Naivety

2008-11-19T21:11:00.000-08:00

NAIVETY

Before I left for home we had a nice send-off meal for all of us
kids going to different countries, colleges, and high schools.   It's
amazing how many of my friends are out of the country this
year.   Each of the parents said a few wise words of release after
the meal was over. My dad said a few things but the one thing that I
really remember, the idea that rang very true in my mind, was this
(paraphrased):   In your youth and naivety, you don't know how hard
certain things are and that is why you try them.   This is what
allows you to do things that maybe people with broader experience
would not even attempt.
I've found that a lot of once in a lifetime experiences are only
once in a lifetime because after the first time we decide, "Wow that
was amazing, but yikers I now know how lucky I am to have gotten to
do that and gotten THROUGH that ALIVE....that was a once in a
life-time experience. I might not be so lucky next time."
Once I ate a big, live, beetle in the hype of a moment.   Everyone
was volunteering money and shouting, "Do it! Do it!".   I look back
on that like, "What were you thinking, Emily?" For the right price I
think I could do it again, but it was the energy of the first time
that pushed me into action that day.
This summer I was at Priest Lake with my family and Alex, Laura and
Nilmini joined us too!   SO fun.   Alex and I were sitting on the
beach one evening and we looked across the lake at this
mountain.   We were like, "We should climb that. It's not THAT
tall." Then we were like, "Alright, let's go!" So we jump in a
canoe and paddled the 3/4 of a mile across the lake. We tied our
canoe up and started trekking up this mountain: no trail, no
compass-just the goal of getting to the top.   We crashed through
some crazy, thick brush, and when we summited (good word), we felt
SO invincible!   It was a lot further than I had expected. I was so
dirty, hot, sweaty, and scraped-up from the challenge.    Getting
back down is whole other story...but we made it back. :) This is the
naivety that my dad was talking about.
Yesterday, us kids here took a "little-thought-out trip". We
decided that we would take bikes (borrow them from our African
friends) and ride the 18 kilometers to Lai (another village out on a
river). So we started riding around 8:30 a.m. We had water,
harmonicas, bananas...all the essentials....and I watched as this
train of white people on bikes attempted to make their way out of
Bere on the sandy trails.   The road would be hard on any bike
because the sand just sucks your tire under and it wasn't 2
kilometers down the road that we had our first accident.   After a
while, bike wrecks were like the flies on the food in Chad: not a big
deal. We had lots of fun riding to Lai and made it there in around 2
and a half hours. This probably could have been done in a very short
time but you have to understand that our bikes were ancient. My tire
was doing some orbital rotation around the central spokes and I
thought it would fall off any moment.   Anlsey has literal bruises on
her butt from her seat of metal and Kristen could hardly control the
direction of her bike in the sand.   I didn't realize it but the
bridge about 100 yards from being done and Lai is on the other side
of the bridge.   So these canoes offered to take us and our bikes
across for about 50 cents. We pile into these dug-outs that are sewn
together where the wood cracked. Don't ask me how you sew wood. I
spent a lot of the trip trying to figure it out myself. But thanks
to the awesome drivers and the full-time hired-water-bailer, we made
it to the other side.   In Lai we sat down at a restaurant.   I still
don't know what I ate but it was so rubbery I felt like my teeth were
on a trampoline.   We went to the river after this and swam for a
long time.   We ran off these cliffs into this mucky muddy water
below.   Prrrrroooobbbabbbly not the cleanest thing I've ever
done.   But definitely not the most boring thing either! :) We went
back and changed in to our clothes and headed back out.   A few more
stops and we found ourselves back in our canoes and back on the
road.   The ride home was glorious and the sun set right on the dirt
path in front of us. 24 miles on rickety bikes. Thanks naivety.

This life is more than ENOUGH to give praise for!

2008-11-12T17:39:00.001-08:00

I pulled on my nike runners and changed into my indian pants and tattered Southern service day t-shirt. Finally, Izeedor (13) got up and came out all sleepy-eyed. The other neighborhood boy (18) (I actually don't know his name....too many to always remember) came too. A 5 am run. We started out and Izeedoor suddenly stopped because he drank too much water the night before :) I laughed and said I would keep running while he took care of business! He caught up and we wound through the village and out into the country. We passed many people heading to the rice fields, balancing sharp rice blades and water containers on their heads as they walked. We just kept running. The sun began to rise! JAW-DROPPING sunrise! I thought, "Maybe this is magic; the magic of God." A miracle of beauty! My heart seriously jumped at least 4 times. I can't stop talking about something that pretty. The sun cast itself up onto clouds and threw shots of different colors all about. All of this light came from one big round ball of fire rising quicker than anywhere else I've been. I couldn't help but run backwards so I could watch the sunrise. Our pace was perfect and our breathing was so synchronized. We ran a solid 5k and returned to shower out of our buckets and eat up because Sabine was preparing breakfast over the coal fire.
I don't see poverty so much anymore. I used to see it all the time. The dirty-handed little kids. Awful old rusted bikes. All clothing tinted brown from dirt. Noses dripping with snot. No one wearing shoes. Kids playing with bottle caps and dirty plastic bags. Children eating plain-dirt-covered-potatoes. Pants so outgrown that they can't zip anymore. Dirt houses. Holes for toilets. Leaves for toilet paper.

Poverty.

But rarely do I see it anymore. Not because these conditions have disappeared, but perspective has shifted. Understanding is starting to take place. I mentioned this to another person here and they agreed! They don't see it anymore either!
Now there are just a bunch of free spirited little kids who don't NEED shoes. That dirt-tie-dyed-shirt-with-five-

holes-in-it, well, that is their favorite shirt...you can't take it away. The huts are cozy and so many amazing memories are made in their gates. The boiled potatoes fill your belly quick so you can play more. The use of leaves for toilet paper cuts down on the garbage. I still see poverty in the streets of the market and a few other places like this. But amidst the general population, the riches are endless.
However, I see suffering on a really regular basis at the hospital and this is where I've really seen the poor in spirit: the worst kind of poverty. I hate it when mothers weep over their dead babies. Hate it. I hate it that Rosalie has only one foot now and feels really discouraged that she'll never walk again. I hate it that nuero-sicknesses are simply hopeless here. I hate hearing the lady with hepatomegaly-liver swollen like a football crying out in pain during the night shift. I hate telling a family that their baby is REALLY not alive. BUT!!!! We are fighters against all this unfairness. We are lookers for something better. We are rooters for good. We are enjoyers of the sparkling, firey gifts that we HAVE been given.
I miss you all so much. Thank you so much for helping me come here. Can't thank you enough. Sincerely, Emily Star Wilkens

Dinner is Hard Work

2008-11-12T17:37:00.001-08:00

Pound. Blister. Heave. Ho. Pass. Next. Again. Pound.
I'm looking at blisters on my fingers from making dinner.   I don't
cook a whole lot in the states, but I'm pretty sure that blisters
don't usually happen.   We pounded rice for like an hour.   Running
in the wind while pouring the mixture of rice and sheaths in one hand
to the bowl in your bottom hand.   The wind carries away the sheaths
and the rice remains. Then all the cooking!   But with these girls
it is just so fun.   Their hands are SO tough.   I am always jumping
in pain because the pot is too hot to hold.   When we finally sit
down to eat that meal...wow....it was a good feeling.
Today, since I work nights, I was able to go to the rice fields and
work for the morning.   Esther put a basin of water to carry on her
head, Jolie (my mother here) strapped little (not really that little
at all!) Armelle to her back and put some food for later on her head,
and I carried the tarp and cutting knife.   Off we went.   We
"tapped" rice for a long time, shaking all the rice off the
stalks.   Then I napped under the tree for a while.   Then we carried
bundles of rice to a central location in the middle of the
field. They don't sell any of this rice...its purpose is just to
feed the family for the whole year.   I start work at 3 so I decided
to head back to the house. Armelle was tired and so I strapped her
to my back like an African!   :) We started walking back to the town
of Bere and Armelle had fallen asleep in the first 15 minutes.   So SWEET.
I was thinking about things that I want to take back to the states
with me. A few come right to mind right now. Eating off the same
plates.   AWESOME. Strapping babies to your back.   It will be a
while. :)   Not worrying about getting a little dirty.
I am sure the list will be completed maybe a week before I come home.

2 Day Bike Rental

2008-11-12T17:36:00.001-08:00

So the bike.   Funny story.   Yesterday Stephan found me and said,
"Emily, I made a mistake and sold you that bike. The person who owns
it is here to pick it up. You have to give it back." Here at the
hopsital people often don't have cash on hand to pay for their
surgeries or medicines. The hospital has a program where people can
bring a bike, a cart, or a big metal pot and put it on hold until
they can bring the money. Then, they can reclaim their item. Well,
after 2 months of something sitting there, the hospital is able to
sell it and pay off the debt of the patient. Stephan thought that
the bike was already 2 months old and so I bought the bike for 8000
francs which is about 16 dollars.   Not a bad deal (granted it was a
fairly low end bike). Except there were alot of problems it.   As I
wrote in an earlier email, I took the bike and got all the things
fixed on it. I invested another 10000 francs...another 20
dollars. The bike was wonderful! Even my family loved my pink
bike.   So when Steffan said I had to take it back, that it turns out
that the bike was NOT 2 months old....all I could do was laugh.   It
had been a wonderful two day rental of the bike.   I took the bike to
the family as they waited outside the office of the hospital.   I
watched their faces brighten up as they realized their old junk bike
had had a complete makeover. They didn't know what to say. I knew
they had no money to give me but they obviously were so
grateful.   We took a picture together with the bike and as they were
leaving they thanked me so much.   I wish I knew how to say, "pass
it on" in French.   Maybe they'll pass the favor on
anyway. Meanwhile, I will miss my bike.   I can't tell you how
excited I was.   Good thing I didn't have any longer to get even more
attached to it.

Emotions...

2008-11-12T17:35:00.001-08:00

I feel a little like my heart has gone on a trip recently.   Like
someone played soccer with it and then rubbed it against a cheese
grater, and then gave it a nice warm bath and then gave it a birthday
party and then finished by making it run a marathon.    Things here
make me feel and think things that I've never thought or felt
before. I didn't know I could FEEL like that.
It reminds me of the time that I played harp at a funeral right at
the head of an open casket. I played next to the body of a woman I
didn't know personally who had died of cancer.   I wanted to cry
while playing but I knew I needed to play. I didn't know why I felt
that way since I didn't even know her at all. It was such a weird
emotion.   It is a similar experience here of being flooded with new
emotions; some really happy, some really sad.
I bought my bike yesterday!   I'll have to send some pictures
home...it will be a while...don't get your hope up too
soon. :)   But Taylor! You would be so proud of me because this
bike was a piece of junk.   I have cleaned it all up and it's like an
awesome antique light pink bike.   New tires...pedals....seat.   When
I first brought it home, my family seriously laughed so much at
me.   The told me it was such a bad bike!   :)    Sabine laughed and
said, "I'm really sorry for you Emily."   :)   But then!    One of
the boys in my family went to the market with me and pretended the
bike was his so this white girl wouldn't get ripped off.   We got it
all fixed up and rode it home.   There are two really awesome parts
to my bike. One is the bell.   Yep! Mom you would love it. You
love bells on bikes.   The other is the little platform on the back
where another person can sit and ride!   I'm going to take it to the
river all the time now.   There is one downside to the bike.   It has
no breaks.   It's not even like they are just broken....they just
don't exist.   :)   Of course chad is super flat so maybe I'm
safe.   But this is the reason for the bell.   Instead of stopping, I
simply ring the bell and everyone gets out of my way.   Breaks are
not necessary in Chad.   These small joyful things really shine up
this place that sometimes is so dark.

As I type now, it is Sabbath morning. I just walked over here to
the middle house after the night shift and now I'm quite tired. Our
whole church started walking to another village this morning.   I
couldn't go because I worked until 8 am and they left at 7.   But
this morning Ansley came to the hospital at 5 am and said that my
parents had called the phone that we share and were going to call
back soon.    She is the sweetest.   Seriously I'm so happy Ansley is
here.   Quite a few times it has been Ansley that drops by randomly
at my house just to check on me.   That first week when I was quite
discouraged and homesick here...Ansley was the best...and she
continues to be. But I got to talk to my Mom and Dad and
grandparents.   SO GOOD. I had to say goodbye early because a lady
came in pregnant and unsure why she hadn't delivered yet.   I called
the lab to come do a HIV test. This is something new we are doing
here for every delivery because the transmission can be
prevented.   Then we called the midwife.   She came and began using
the doppler to find the heartbeat.   Nothing.   Then she checked to
see how much the woman was dialiated and found the baby's head right
there. The baby was dead the mother was having no contractions. So
James came and they removed the baby that had been in the mother dead
for 3 days. This was the woman's first pregnancy. The family was so
excited as I talked to them before the midwife got there.   A hard
morning for this family.
I came home the other day and it was just the two little kids at
home.   Pabris (4) and Armelle (3). So I got out my paint set. We
set up a little art studio and they went to work.   I also taught
them two colors in English: yellow and blue.   It seriously took 30
minutes of asking them, "what is this?" and having them repeat after
me.   Yikes I hope it doesn't take that long to teach my kids to talk
someday. :)   They were so cute though and now they say,
"Yellooooowwww" and it cracks me up.
Hospitality is huge here.   When someone comes into your courtyard,
you don't ask them who they are or what they want.   First you get
them a chair, bring them tea, and THEN ask who they are. Pretty
neat. The marriage customs are very interesting as well.   People
are very concerned that I am not married yet. Most of them were
married by 15 and had their first kid thereafter.   You see, here,
boy meets girl, they like eachother, boy decides he wants to marry
girl, families MUST approve, boys father pays a large sum of money to
girls family, couple moves into the house of the father of the boy
where they live until father dies.   This assures that the father can
observe this new marriage and make sure that boy treats girl right
and that girl supports boy and does her chores. Interesting. Noone
hugs here and as SM's we've made sure to give eachother an occasional
hug because we sometimes go for 2 weeks without one. The men hold
hands here in friendship and at first I thought that sexuality was
quite a bit more jumbled here in Africa. But now it has completely
taken on a new meaning.   Women and men don't eat together and the
other night I went to one of the other SM's house for supper.   I am
friends with the mother of the household and so when we all sat down
to eat, I thought she would join us. But she only sat off to the
side until the husband decided to GRANT her permission to come and
eat with us.   Wow.
I'm still searching for the expression of love in this culture.   I
guess everyone holds hands in loving friendship.   But they don't
talk endearingly to each other, they don't hug each other, they don't
sit next to each other, you never catch them admiring who their loved
one is.   Where is the love?   I'm seeing it come out a bit
though. It's just so different. I am reading Inside Afghanistan and
John Weaver writes that the most important thing for helping another
culture is to understand what they already have in place.   We often
come to some situation and say, "Oh, well they are missing shoes," or
"they don't read to their children at night." We think. They need
what I have. But the book talks about how in order to help someone,
you have to understand what their equivalents are. They have
callouses on their feet unlike Americans (we scrub ours off with
rough rocks). They lay under the stars with their children for 2
hours at night and bond like you've never seen. Once you understand
what things are already working well for these people, then you can
see what things are lacking.   Differences are not necessarily deficiencies.
Adopting traditions!   I hadn't thought about this much before but
traditions can be very enriching to a family or city. Culture is
DENSE here.   Very preserved and honored.   Even the young kids
continue to keep the culture alive.   I thought to myself, "What is
my Wilkens culture?" I remembered that my family used to light a
candle in a little mini church on Friday nights. I remembered that
Christmas morning tradition says that everyone goes into my parents
room and opens stockings. I thought about how both my grandmas run
their fingers over our arms until we fall asleep. I thought about
how my dad eats orange slices on road trips. I think I like culture
and tradition more now than ever.

TIA. This Is Africa.

2008-11-09T19:50:00.001-08:00

Hi Everyone!
So I have decided that there is this special
mystery of family dynamics that is uniquely
gifted to each family across the world. Living
with this African family has been the most heart
and eye opening experience. I have laughed more
genuinely with these people than I thought I
would ever be able to. I have wanted to hug the
mom (it's not culturally right though) so many
times and have absolutely given a bit of my heart
to little Pabris who walks with me to the
hospital every time I leave the house. He
insists that he open the door for even though he
is so little his arm doesn't reach the
latch. Izeedoor (13 yrs) always beats me to the
well to draw water up for my shower and Sabine(16
yrs) keeps this seriously look as if she is
really mature but cracks when I call her
Sabino. J Part of me wants to live with each of
YOUR families for a few weeks..understand how you
guys do your laundry, if you are grumpy in the
morning, do you eat pounds and pounds of a
certain food each week, who gets picked on, sit
in the places where you sit and see what you
think is funny. I thought to myself.why
couldn't we just bring people into our homes more
often. I guess it is a bit of an inconvenience
but if we made them part of our family.not like
some guest or visitor.the inconvenience would
become more of a contribution to the family
life.hopefully a good one. I get really excited
because I see a lot of neat lessons that we could
learn from each other. Maybe we could adopt a
grandma to come live with us just for two weeks
or something. Or maybe a kid who is having
problems in their own home.Or maybe a college
student who is searching for housing but need a
place to stay until then.or maybe just someone who is really bored!
Yesterday we played volleyball
because one of the visiting volunteers brought a
net! So fun. Today I went running again and as
I started out I looked behind me and there was
this woman running after me. I stopped and
greeted her and she said she wanted to run with
me. J I am used to the kids loving to run with
me but not so used to older, classier ladies in
dresses wanting to jog. But she was
fast!! J We ran to her house and she showed me
around. I just love how open people are
here. Then I continued with the kids. Some of
the kids got tired and we'd have to stop under
the mango trees. One little girl had her baby
sister tied around her waist and she was heading
up the gang!!! Crazy. They are really a strong breed of people.
I watched my first C-section
yesterday. The mother came in at the end of my
night shift and we realized that she was bleeding
already and her placenta was going to deliver
before the baby.quite a complication. So we took
the mother back in the operating room. Dr. Appel
went to the family and told them that they needed
to go pay quick because we needed to do the
surgery right away. They all just stood
there. They were all dressed so nice. They had
money. But no one moved a foot.
Many of you donated money to Chad in
order to pay for surgeries. I have had the
hardest time knowing how to put this money to use
in a really effective way because the people here
ALL say they don't have money.even when they
do. In their mind, why would they pay for
something if some rich white person will pay for
it? So I am brainstorming and praying about how
to find a way to put this money to use. Dr. Appel
got upset and said, "ok, we'll just wheel her
back out and she'll die." Finally, after a lot
of persuading, the family pulled out the
"non-existent money" from their pocket and the
C-section went on. I was pretty amazed and the
peeling back of layers of skin, muscle and
fascia. Then there was the baby! I love rubbing
these little babies to life right after they come
out; stimulating them by slapping their little
bodies. Then their tone turns from blue and
white to pink and dark brown. Their natural arm
reflexes start going and they cry. So so
sweet. I carried the baby out to the family and
they were thrilled to have a new baby boy. Worth all the money they spent.
It is hard for me to write about
experiences here because we don't have a lot of
internet time. But if you want to here more
stories about what is going on, visit Dr. James'
blog. He has more access to internet than me
and he gets to post there. Hopefully communication will get better.
Please pray hard for a little boy
named Poly here. My last night shift he bled
all night from his mouth. He has polyps in his
colon and we don't know how far up into the
intestines. He needs surgery and we have been
stocking up on a supply of O positive blood. He
is in so much pain though and his hemoglobin was
1 yesterday. This is so low and I don't know if
he will make it. We are waiting for antoher
surgeon who is very familiar with this
complicated surgery to get here. But please pray for Poly.
A quick update of some other happenings:
-buying a bike today from the hospital.
-climbing lots of guava trees to eat the guava.
-malaria has avoided me thus far!
-reading Inside Afganistan.incredible book.
-running to the river today!
-paid for peanut butter to be made.
-awesome SM's here. Most leaving in Nov. and Dec.
-a bat came into my hut last night.woke me
up.kept flying around.luckily I was safe in my mosquito net.
-I almost step on these huge frogs at night! They are everywhere.
-my family has no toilet..not even a hole to use.where do they go?
-3 of the SM's have malaria.
-1 has giardia.
-2 have colds.
-1 has ring worm.
-one has unnamed bacteria in his stomach.
-it's so hot here.
-working for now as a nurse: giving IV meds, shots, taking vitals.
-fed a baby for a long time yesterday. The baby
is so dehydrated that it has skin like an
elephant. The skin just stays however you form
it.doesn't bounce back like yours and mine.
-learning more and more French.
-watching stars every night!!! AWESOME.

- Love and miss you all. Thank-you so much for
helping me get here to Africa. It is in many
many ways exactly what I needed at this point in
life. I am so appreciative. Love you all. ~Emily

Paths To Where I Am

2008-11-09T19:49:00.001-08:00

Paths To Where I Am
-dropped off at airport.
-plugged computer in by miss makeup artist.

-got onto plane. Sat by the makeup artist.

-got a little fire for following dreams from her.

-talked about babies in China and her lip gloss line that she created.

-she gave me her card and said to contact her for help with money or
supplies in chad. >>
-Got off plane and had 6 hours before next flight.

-Asked a lady where transportation was.

-40 dollars for a taxi! Can't do that.

-Sweet funny lady said to go take a free airport shuttle and not tell them I wasn't staying at their hotel.

-Met Scotty the Comfort Inn shuttle driver.

-Begged for a ride. J

-Woman over heard I was going to Africa.

-Came and slipped me a twenty

-Rode with flight crew who laughed an awful lot at what I was doing J

-Got to the Comfort Inn and then walked over to the Safeway…then to
Wallgreens.

-Tripped real hard on the sidewalk right in front of traffic. Backpack threw me down. Humbling.

-Wallgreens photo shop boy is late…never comes.

-Walk to Panera. Eat a Salad and write home.
-Head back to Hotel.

-Ask them when the next shuttle is coming.

-Then Deb. From the flight crew. Comes down and hangs out with me.

-I get her email and we'll stay in touch.

-I go ask the new shuttle man to ask when his next run is going.

-He says. I'll take you now.

-I feel guilty about being the only one for his whole shuttle trip and he
doesn't even know that I am not staying at his hotel!

-So I tell him.

-He says it's fine that he doesn't have anything else to do. J

-People are so GOOD!

-He answers a call from his little daughter and says he has to take her
calls because she gets mad when he doesn't pick up. J Fatherly duties.

-Get back to airport.

-Stand in line with wonderful Ethiopian people!

-Talk to one boy and hear his dreams for being able to help people.
-Awesome.

-Cool girl who helps me figure out how to make my baggage come through.

-Go and meet Allison!

-Call Alex. His phone is dying! We are twins.

-Allison and I eat Pizza with our 15 dollar vouchers.

-Wait. Wait. Wait.

-Ansley gets there along with Jonah (sweetest boy), Mark, and Trudy. Such sweet people.

-Jonah shares all his toys with me.

-2 a.m. Get on plane. Allison gives me Ambien.

-Sleep all night. Really sleep. So nice.

-Wake up a few times.

-Man who I sit by is going to do food distribution in Ethiopia!

-Get up from my seat ONCE the whole 15 hour trip. I was so tired.

-Play heads or tails with Jonah and Tina (little Ethiopian girl)

-Land.

-Stand in three lines to get a hotel voucher. We've missed our connecting flight to Chad

-Get put up in a super nice hotel with free meals at restaurant in Addis.

-Chat with Adrienne and Alex on Gmail.

-Ask to stay in one room together. Get funny looks and people say, "Why
wouldn't you want your own rooms?" Anlsey resoponds, "We're Friends!"

-Love Ansley.

-Sleep on ROCK solid beds. Hehe

-Sleep All night.

-Get up and eat an Ethiopian breakfast.

-Head into town.

-Walk in and are flooded with help to get some passport pictures.

-PEOPLE are so GOOD!

-Took a taxi to the National Museum…saw funny things.

-Taxi Driver….CRAZY driver….no seatbelts.

-I asked him to drive safe. J

-Saw Zoo and Lions.

-Children begging.

-So many lame and hurt people.

-Naked babies.

-Hands so mangled they are just nubs for fingers.

-Housing so sad.

-Sad faces.

-People dragging themselves across the street with just arms. Legs don't work.

-Think.

-Taxi Drives us all around town.

-Come back to hotel and eat wonderful lunch.

-Come back to our room.

-Start watching a movie.

-Fall asleep for a nap.

-Wake up at 7 pm!!!

-Now I write to you all
-Flying out of Addis at 10 tomorrow morning.
-Will arrive in Chad.
-Will take 10 hour bus ride.
-Will take a 60 kilometer MOPED ride...with luggage...through the rains.
-Will settle into new home.

For Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginnings End

2008-11-09T19:48:00.000-08:00

Here I am. I'm 22. I'm heading to Chad Africa to work at Bere Hospital for 6 months. I'll be working as a nurse-ish-like-sort-of-person learning: suturing, medicines, child delivery, TB care, malaria treatment and a different way of living. For those of you who know me, I'm impulsive, a slight bit disorganized, have a bad memory, a big fear of dogs, a little fear of the dark and have this itch inside me to please people. Those are some of the things God's going to have deal with this year. Just maybe our weaknesses He can turn into our strengths. Maybe he'll use us in our weakness. Maybe in our fear of failing, he'll remind us of what courage feels like and we'll step up to big, tough, scary tasks; be brave! Maybe he'll teach us to turn our worry into PETITIONS of prayer to Him. Maybe he'll create a story from our rough experiences that will be told from our open-book-selvesand inspire others. Weakness-Strength. I'm banking on it.
I arrived in DC at 3pm. I said goodbye to my parents and Alex at the airport (happy goodbyes right mom?) in Seattle after an awesome trip to the San Juan Islands, bikin' around. My mom snuck all sorts of things into my bags. I keep finding random things...like dolls, wooden giraffes, orange purses containing quarters and BARS of SOAP! You are funny mom. :) My flight to DC was great. Sat by Courtney, a makeup artist on her way to Paris. Follow our dreams...that's what she reminded me of. Thanks Courtney. :) The flight to Addis, ET was delayed from 8:30 p.m. until 2 a.m. Oh dear. So I decided to go into DC. I talked to a lady and she said taxi's were 40 bucks one way! Yikers! What a rip-off! So she recommended I try to bum a ride from one of the free airport shuttles. If you know me, you know I love free things. I lugged my huge backpack down almost a half a mile to the H2 station (hotel shuttle) and asked Scotty, the Comfort Inn driver man, when the next shuttle would leave. He said, "soon" and asked me what room I was at the hotel. "Err.....Umm....well I don't exactly have a reservation. Could I please have a ride though? I would like to leave the airport but taxis are expensive." He replied that he had nice bones in his body and let me get on. Another lady had overheard me talking a bit about Africa and came over to give me a $20 bill towards my trip. PEOPLE are GOOD! I met lots of nice people in DC. I ran into Deb, an airline stewardess who rode with me on the shuttle into DC. I hung out with her as I waited to sneak on another shuttle back to the airport. She was awesome and I wish her the best in her flights. I did some things in town..including tripping on the sidewalk infront of traffic with my huge backpack on. Max, the next shuttle driver, asked me where I needed to go. I told him I needed to catch a plane. He said, "alright, I'll take you." I felt bad though because I wasn't even staying at the hotel and I was going to be the only one on whole 10 person shuttle. Just me and Max. So I confessed. He smiled and said that he wasn't doing anything and that he'd take me. Once again. PEOPLE are GOOD!
The flight was not long considering I took a sleeping pill and was out the entire time. I got up once the entire 15 hours! haha My seat mate was one of a group going to do food distribution in ET. He couldn't figure out how I was sleeping so well. :)
We were delayed here on our way to Chad and I've spent the last day and a half with Anlsey Howe and Allison Rott in Addis Abbaba, the capital of Ethiopia. We've been put up in a hotel by the airlines and fed three meals a day of good rice, veggis, eggs, soup, fresh bread, salad, yogurt, hot cocoa. This morning went by taxi and then foot all over this town. It's a different world here. That's all I can say now. I'm starting to process all these things...I just wrote a paragraph about what is in my mind...but it's not clear yet. So many of you that I am writing to know exactly what I'm talking about and what I'll have to process. What about all these beggars. They are not beggars that are bumming money for drugs. These are legitamate needy people. What about all those sad lions at the ZOO...they looked so unhappy. What about my defensive mode? Is this how I should be? I think everyone is out to get me sometimes. That doesn't coincide with having a focus on others and not myself. Sort, sort, sort...file this thought here...dismiss this one....dwell on this one...this one matters...ah. This is just the beginning.
When trying to go places, we have to weave through the huge variety of people, run across traffic (it is crazy here. i thought we were going to hit people in our taxi so many times), jump over water trails...not sure what the water was. But something about it just makes me a bit wide-eyed and excited! It's like trekkin' all around :) I'm sitting at a coffee shop. We disguised ourselves with some of Ansley's head scarves and walked into town tonight. Noone even knew we were Americans! :) hehe But time to go to sleep. You guys are awesome friends, family and teachers. You gotta know that as I looked through the list and added you to this email, I felt like "WOW. these PEOPLE are GOOD!" Next time maybe I'll write to you from in my hut. Love Love Love, Emily Safe Star Wilkens.
P.S. I asked my taxi driver if he could please drive carefully because we didn't have seatbelts. :) See I am as careful as Fletcher..say with a broken leg and maybe with a baby in his backpack. Like really careful and cautious.
Irresistable Revolution: "I got very frustrated and angry, wondering how these extremes could exist in the same world, let alone in the same church. Sometimes I just got cynical. That was the easiest thing to feel, as cynicism takes very little energy." But just possibly, the JOY of the Lord can be our strength/energy to do more than feel cynical.

3 weeks.

2008-07-10T14:45:00.000-07:00

Three weeks and I head to Chad, Africa.
I will be working in the Bere Adventist Hospital...
...Alongside a group of nurses and doctors who have
dedicated alot of their lives already to working out there in the desert.
This is one little village area of Bere.
Just incase your geography is as bad as mine was.....
Chad is in pink.