edgy.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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....

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.