Family Doings

Wesley helping Fred check his Facebook

September finds us all shifting in high gear for the coming month, especially as we prepare to come to the States in October for a few months ($875 still to raise!).

Innocent - After a month of leave, Innocent is going back to school for his final term of kindergarten.  He's lucky (or unlucky, depending on one's perspective) to be at a private school, since Kenyan government teachers are on strike.  Since he loves school, he's glad his teachers are not on strike.  He'll also be turning seven this month!

Samuel Wesley - Our little man is coming up on six months old, and it seems like he's decided to skip crawling and try for walking.  He's not very interested in being on his stomach, but he loves to practice standing.  He only needs a little bit of help balancing, then he'll be trying to walk in no time!

Leisha - This weekend I'll be going to Dodoma for a Lahash staff retreat with the Angote family and Will C.  I'm excited to see my co-workers and to eat some pizza and Chinese food.  I also hear there's a new coffee shop in town that I haven't had a chance to check out yet.  I'll also stop in Shinyanga to visit some friends on my way back.  Then I'll be working on packing and ticking off the many items on our to-do list before leaving.

Fred - Fred continues his role of master traveler this month.  He will take Innocent back to school, then the next day take Wesley and me to Mwanza (halfway to Dodoma), and will spend all of next week in Kigali, Rwanda at a training for grief and trauma counseling.  He gets back to Shirati with 14 days to conduct a palliative care training and get all of his various programs to a good point for him to leave.

In other news: We thought we finally had all our immigration documents in proper order for all of our family members.  This wasn't an easy task: Tanzanian residence permits for all three of us, Kenyan and American passports for the baby, Kenyan residence permit for me and American visa for Fred meant dealing with three different governments, each with different rules and different levels of efficiency.  Anyway, we thought we were all legal and finally done with paying for visas and permits and passports, when the Tanzanian government decided to invalidate all residence permits for foreigners.  At first we thought we have to pay the $550 fee for my permit again (after just paying it in April), but a friend in the Tanzanian immigration department assured us that we just have to do the paperwork, as long as it is done before December 31st.  Of course this means we have had to get our resumes, letters of recommendation, passport photos and applications all together and submitted ASAP so that we get the permits before we leave for the States.

Literally days after finding out that we have to reapply for the Tanzanian permits, I was refused entry to Kenya on my spouse's permit.  Apparently the Kenyan government had passed a new immigration law which requires me to have an additional pass in addition to my spouse's permit.  It didn't cost much, but required Fred going up to Nairobi to get it for me.  It also disrupted our plans to go see Fred's grandmother and aunt, so they still haven't had a chance to meet Wesley, which was disappointing to all of us.  We're trying to arrange travel plans so that we can see them on our way to the airport in October.  Ah, Africa!  You don't make anything easy, do you?

Bring me (and my parents) to America

I got my U.S. passport today, which means I'm ready to throw some diapers in a bag and come to America to visit! 

$1500 pledged, $2000 still to go.  Donate at www.lahash.org/give.

"You kids get off my lawn!"

My brother and I used to tease our mom about being the "mean" neighborhood lady.  She would get really annoyed about things that seemed so petty to Roy and I, like our neighbors' friends parking in front of our house or the neighbors flicking their cigarette butts into the overgrown wilderness behind the house.  She simply couldn't explain to our satisfaction why it mattered where our neighbor's dog pooped.

Mom, I owe you an apology.  I understand now.

I've written before about my frustrations with Shirati townspeople violating the sanctity of our home environment, but lately I've become convinced that people here are determined to drive me out of town.  In the past two weeks (two weeks only), all of these things have happened:
          - People pasturing their cows, goats and chickens in our yard
          - Neighbor kids stealing our garbage
          - A mentally ill man stole out of our garbage
          - Local grade schoolers  and neighbor kids sneaking into our backyard to steal fruit, breaking limbs off the trees to get to it.  The neighbor kids know they're not supposed to take fruit off the trees, and their grandmother knows we don't want them taking fruit, but when Fred went over to reiterate with her after chasing the kids off for the umpteenth time, he found her eating our fruit.
          - Two little girls snuck away from a church program to use our trees as a toilet
          - A man used the bushes between our house and the road as a toilet
          - A woman brought her small child to use our back yard as a toilet (sensing any themes?)
          - An old man, who has been warned seven or eight times, returned to steal more wood from our fence.  Every time he gets caught, he says "forgive me, forgive me" while he continues to pull posts out of the ground or break boards.
          - Eight high schoolers used the gap in our fence to come through to where I was sitting on the back porch with the baby, and they proceeded to make fun of the baby, thinking I couldn't understand them.
           - Actually, every time I go outside, foot traffic on the road slows as every child walking by shouts "mzungu" hoping to get my attention. (Seriously?  I've lived here for more than a year.  Get over it!)

Now this week, the straw that breaks the camel's back...

The local church, which is across the road from our house, is having a women's conference this week.  They're having it under tarps in the field, and they started the week by cutting down every dead or semi-dead or "expendable" tree in the compound, including at our house.  (This has been done several times over the years without replanting at all, so a compound that was one full of lovely mature fruit trees is now relatively barren.)  Yesterday the conference opened, and it suddenly occurred to the pastor that the kitchen staff would need a place to sleep if they were to stay for night prayers and have tea ready in the morning, so he asked Fred if all the kitchen staff could stay at our house.  Aside from the inconvience of housing and expense of providing bath water to a bunch of women we don't know, bringing a whole bunch more women around to advise me on how to care for my son was not an appealing prospect.  Then the conference kicked off last evening with "night prayers" which started around 7pm and lasted until after 10pm.  As with most of the African church services I've attended, they crank the sound system to maximum volume.  There are no noise pollution laws, so the pastors take that as the Lord's invitation into as many homes and businesses as subwoofers can reach.  Since ours is the second-closest house, we are getting the full effect of the services resonating through our house, including the extensive prayer times.  (For all the Swahili speakers out there: "TOKA katika JINA la JESU!!!  MOTO, MOTO, MOTO!!!")

Even worse, though, was that these night prayers are an excuse for every adolescent with nothing better to do (aka all of them) to gather.  Around 9:30pm last night I was in our bedroom trying to get the baby to sleep when I heard a big group pass by on the road.  Our room is about a dozen feet from the road, so I distinctly heard another kid run through under our window and jump out to scare the group on the road.  Then they set off some kind of firecracker or something, which caused me to jump and the baby to cry.  Fred went out the front door, but didn't see anyone.  Then I saw a couple of young men in the back yard, so Fred went around to the back and chased them away.  The whole encounter was brief, but unsettling for me, especially since the conference is lasting until Sunday and Fred is leaving on a trip tomorrow.

In every single one of these events, when we have confronted someone to stop their behavior (or theft) they look at us completely unperturbed.  The general attitude seems to be that we are the unreasonable ones for not wanting animal and human feces in our yard.  We are un-African for having a fence and not wanting strangers to steal it for firewood.  We are ungenerous for not allowing random strangers to break limbs off of the trees for the unripe fruit at the top or to rummage in our garbage.  We are inhospitable for not opening our doors to a group of strangers on two hours' notice.  (Okay, I'll give them that one.)  People have told Fred that we are considered "mean."  I haven't been the "mean girl" since I ostracized Stacey Springstead for no good reason in 6th grade.  (I still feel bad about that, Stacey!)  This all makes me feel like a bad person and a bad Christian and a bad "missionary" (although I'm not really a missionary).

Part of the difference in perception is cultural, but I've run some of these things past Africans and long-term white people, and they agree that we're not totally unreasonable.  These events all coming together at once have made me really, really ready for a visit to the States.  Thank you to those who have already pledged or contributed for our airfare fund!  Now, I'm off to change an extremely pungent diaper before that problem starts to spread. 

Don't be a Bystander

I have so many thoughts swirling around in my head, so many blog posts I've been planning to write, although with a little guy who requires a lot of my time, energy and nutrients, typing anything requires more attention (and fingers) than I usually have available.  At present there is one thing really pressing on my mind.

I recently read the book The Tipping Point by Malcom Gladwell, and it sparked a lot of thoughts, but one concept was particularly intriguing to me: the bystander problem.  As explained in the book, studies have shown that the more people who are aware of a problem, the less likely it is that any one person will act.  For example, in one study, a person staged an epilptic seizure inside a room.  When one person was outside the door and heard the sounds, that person rushed to help 85% of the time, but when the listener thought there were four others also listening, the person responded only 31% of the time.  If someone else is aware of the need, one assumes that person will respond if the need is really great.  I suspect that the internet enhances the bystander problem, since we become aware of so much more need and grief and trauma in the world and the potential audience is virtually infinite, so there are many other people we assume will respond instead.

So, to apply this concept in the life of my family...
I know there are many, many people who read this blog and who really appreciate the work that Fred and I are involved in.  Many of you have been so generous over the years, in your attention, prayers, gifts and finances, and God has used that generosity to bring us through every difficulty.  At the moment we are facing a financial hurdle we need your help to overcome.  We are planning a trip back to the States for visiting and fundraising, but we need help paying for the plane tickets.  We're hoping to visit from the end of September through the end of January

We will be most grateful to anyone who can help us out.  The total we need to raise for two round-trip tickets is $3800.  There are two ways you can give:
               - through Lahash (www.lahash.org/give - tax-deductible), mentioning Leisha Adams
              - by getting a check made out to Leisha Adams to my parents (4800 SW Griffith Dr Ste 104, Beaverton, OR 97005 - not tax-deductible)

Our plans include time in
      Washington, DC  (late Sept and late Jan)
           Fayetteville, NC  (late Sept)
                Philadelphia, PA  (early Oct)
                     Portland, OR   (Oct-Jan)
                          Astoria, OR  (Oct)
                               Seattle, WA  (Nov or Dec)
                                    Spokane, WA  (Nov or Dec)
                                         Whitefish, MT  (Nov or Dec)
                                               and other cities are possible if we get - invites and finances permitting.

If you are reading this, please don't be a bystander.  We'd really like to come back to the States for a rest and for everyone to meet the baby and in order to do some fundraising for causes that we are involved in here.  If you can give some money or are willing to do a fundraiser for us, please do so.  Please don't assume that someone else will take care of it.  We greatly appreciate it!

Travelling to and fro - Photos + BIG NEWS!

In the weeks since I last posted, we have done some travelling that you might be interested in:

19-22 June - Shinyanga, Tanzania - Sam and me
This was our first trip without Fred.  We stayed at home and at others' homes without Fred, but this was our first time traveling without him.  He went with us to Musoma, which is about 1/3rd of the way, and put us on the bus.  We had two seats for the eight hour bus ride, because there are really no good options for a seatmate who is not your husband when one has to breastfeed a squirmy, fussy infant. 
          Option 1: An older male - These guys usually spread their legs as wide as possible because of the tiny amount of legroom in the Chinese-made buses, and elbow the baby in the head because this 24" little guy needs some stretching space when he's eating.
          Option 2: A younger male - I've not yet sat directly next to a young man, but I've been ogled across aisles and rows by enough of these guys to not want one trying to look down my nursing hood.
          Option 3: An older woman - Older ladies are usually pretty "hippy" and have 95 bags and sometimes a chicken with them.  Regardless of which language they speak, they always make it clear to me their opinions on what I should or should not be doing for my son.
          Option 4: A younger woman - These girls are not too bad, and if I could be sure of having one for a seatmate, I'd be okay with it.  They're usually really interested in playing with or holding the baby.  Worst case scenario they have their own kid (or two or three), and want to squeeze everyone in together.
Hence, I took up two seats, one for me and one for the diaper bag.  I had to defend my extra seat a couple of times, but it was totally worth it.

The conference in Shinyanga was for a potential new Lahash partner called Path of Hope.  It is a children's program similar to Grace and Healing Mnistry, but spread out at several small, remote churches in the area.  The head of the program is Jeanette Nyakyema, an American married to a Luo (just like me and Fred, although her husband is a Mennonite bishop and they are old enough to be our parents).  The conference was to introduce Path of Hope personnel to Lahash's structure and to train them in some key areas.  The Angotes and Will met us there, and together we did several presentations.  We got to meet some of the kids who may be joining Lahash sponsorship in the coming months, and we were all inspired by their drive and passion.

All in all, the trip went well, with one exception.  Reporting time for our return bus was 5:30am, and Bishop Nyakyema kindly picked us up at our guest house and took us to the stage.  Thank the Lord he was helping me because I had three bags and a huge thing of diapers, plus a weed eater and a child's bike which Edwin brought from Dodoma.  After waiting for the bus, which was 20 minutes late, there was a panicked rush to load everyone on the bus.  The bishop was holding some of my bags and loaded the big things under the bus, then boarded to hand me my other bags, and the bus pulled out!  He got me my bags, then got off at the earliest opportunity and had to walk back to his car at 6am!  I have rarely been so humbly served, and I have no idea how I would have made it without him. 

3-7 July - Nairobi, Kenya - Whole family
Confession: Fred and I are child smugglers.  Basically, since we didn't have time to wait around for Sam's birth certificate before returning to Tanzania, and he was sleeping in the car when we passed through the borders, so there was no record of him on the Kenyan side of the border, where they tend to be a little bit pickier than your usual African border point for some reason.  Anyway, Tanzania didn't care about our infant, but when we tried to pass through the Kenya side on our way to Nairobi, the guy kind of freaked out on me.  Long story short: He kept shooing Fred out of the office, even though we kept saying we were together, and after a long time of explaining that we were going to Nairobi to get the baby's legal paperwork and passport, he finally asked where the baby's father was.  I said "HERE" and motioned to Fred.  He asked for Fred's passport and saw it was a Kenyan passport.  "Why didn't you tell me that the father is a Kenyan?" he blustered.  Frustrated, we responded "you didn't ask!"  It turns out he was trying to figure out how to issue a visa to an American infant without a passport, but as a Kenyan, the baby could freely re-enter his home country, apparently. 

Playing with Dad's soda

Anyway, we made it to Nairobi with the intention of getting the baby's birth certificate and U.S. passport.  I had carefully researched all the paperwork needed and made an appointment.  All we needed was the birth certificate.  Fred picked it up, and we realized that the US embassy requires a certified birth certificate, but you can only get a birth certificate certified by using it in a government office.  So, in lieu of the US passport, we decided to start the process for his Kenyan passport.  The thing is that where the US passport process is super clearly defined on their website, you can't even find out the Kenyan passport process if you physically present yourself at their office.  In the end, as we stood outside the gates scratching our heads over the confusing paperwork, we were approached by one of the immigration "professionals" who have a cottage industry of figuring out the right process and making connections inside to fast-track the paperwork.  This guy was the same tribe as Fred (tribe is king in Kenya), and he worked the whole thing for us.  Within 24 hours we had a certified birth certificate and a Kenyan passport, but we couldn't reschedule our US passport appointment for several days.  We decided to return to Nairobi in two weeks when we could schedule appointments for the baby and Fred both.  (Fred is applying for a tourist visa to the States.) 
          High points: Hot showers, cold imported beer, cheeseburgers, tartar sauce, a Turkish gyro and not getting stared at in public
          Low points: Not getting to see the Daggetts (friends who live in Nairobi) and Fred getting his pocket picked of the $300 US dollars we had saved for the baby's passport fees - of course I was told of my very first trip to Africa that Nairobi has "tuff teeves"  (tough thieves)

18-20 July - Nairobi, Kenya - Whole family
So we have to return to Nairobi for appointments for both Fred and the baby on 19 July.  Fortunately it works out well to meet up with John D and Will, Lahash travelers who are good friends from my home church.  They're coming to visit us for a few days in Shirati, but it's way too complicated for non-locals to make it out here, so we'll be escorting them.

September 2012-January 2013 - USA - Whole family
We're trying to plan a trip back to the States to visit family and friends in various places.  Unfortunately, we are facing some financial constraints and are struggling to fund this planned trip.  We don't usually ask for financial assistance for ourselves, but if you could help us raise money for this trip home, we would sure appreciate it.  You can give to our support fund (Leisha Adams) through Lahash at http://lahash.org/give/.  We'd love to introduce you to this little brooder.

An End to Criticalness?

I've been realizing that my last several posts have had a little negative spin to them.  To be sure, sarcastic observation is kind of the trademark of my generation, but I've been convicted that my complaining is not really giving you all an accurate picture of life here.  Thus, I've been trying to see the bright side of various things that are not my favorite.  For example:

When I get frustrated by...  

...I think about...





Neighbor kids digging through my garbage, prying open
dirty diapers to see what's inside...

...the same kids standing on the road watching
a bird in a tree in complete fascination.

Roosters crowing outside the window, waking up our
napping baby...

...every time I eat chicken or eggs I know that they
are locally grown, cageless and organic.

Sneezing my head off from allergies...

...that we live in a beautiful green environment.

 A baby who wants to eat all the time, day and night...

...how healthy and strong our son is and that he
has never had a problem with latching or nursing.

Innocent's constant interest in what I'm doing, from
changing diapers to cooking to working on the computer...

...how we have a bright, inquisitive boy who values
relationship over tv or toys.

Strangers asking to hold our baby everytime I walk
outside (and sometimes coming to the door to ask)...

...that we live in a community oriented culture, where
people are so happy for us to have a beautiful, healthy son.

Bleach spots on my clothes...

...that I don't have to wash my own clothes, and can
instead help support a kind, young widow and her kids.

Feeling lonely for friends...

...how my husband and I are truly best friends, and
spend our free time and energy on our marriage and family.

Fred traveling alot and being called at all

hours on all days...

...my husband having a job that uses his skills and
allows him to help poor and hurting people.

So all in all, life here, though not easy, is full of wonderful things (even when I'm typing one-handed with a nursing baby in the other arm and being interrupted to spell words for the letter Innocent is writing to his grandmother).  We really do have a blessed life here.

Measles, Medics and Mayhem

I've been quiet this week because it's been rather chaotic around our house.  Last Tuesday we got word that Innocent (our nephew, who we take care of) was admitted to the hospital by his boarding school because of malaria.  After two days he was released and taken back to school, and Fred went to see him on Friday, which, incidentally was also Parents' Day for this term.  Fred was intending to go on to his hometown to check on his grandmother, but instead I got a text message that he was returning home and bringing Innocent with him.  He had found Innocent still very sick, feverish and lethargic, and decided that Inno should come to our house where we could keep an eye on him.  The matron in charge of Inno hadn't been giving the boy his medicine for malaria properly and Fred was concerned.

When they arrived Friday night, Inno was beginning to show a rash and by Saturday it was full-blown all over his body...clearly measles.  We heard that there had been an outbreak of measles on the Kenyan side of the border (where Inno's school is), so we figure he must have been exposed to a measles case either in the hospital or at school.  Because the measles followed so closely on the heels of malaria, Inno's immune system wasn't so much up to the challenge.  He couldn't keep anything in his stomach, so by Sunday afternoon we were worried about dehydration and Fred took him to the hospital here for admission.

Oh my word.  We definitely, definitely made the right decision not to give birth here.  First of all, Fred comes in with a sick, measles-covered little boy, and the admitting nurse's first and most insistent question is "Where do you live?"  Now, obviously they want to avoid an outbreak here in town, but shouldn't patient care come first?  Fred requested a private room, rather than the dormitory style general ward, and they insisted that the private room is reserved for staff use only.  Fortunately, we are friends with the hospital administrator, so Fred made a phone call along the lines of "Hello Mr. Magati, is this how you run your hospital?" and the admitting nurse quickly changed her tune.

Fred had requested a private room so that Innocent wouldn't be staying alone, since no one checks on non-emergency patients during the night.  Pretty scary situation for a six-year-old and his parents.  Also, the hospital doesn't provide food or water (for drinking, bathing or flushing purposes), so we had to bring food, drinking water, a blanket, a basin for Inno to vomit into (apparently he was just supposed to puke on himself) and several other things.  One thing that you really wouldn't anticipate having to provide to the hospital is something to clean the site of the needle for the IV!  Innocent stopped the nurse from putting the needle in, asking if they were going to wipe his hand first, and the answer was no, they weren't planning on it, so we brought baby wipes (which we conveniently happen to have around) and antiseptic hand wash for the nurses to use.

We were so frustrated over the two days that Innocent was admitted.  He was improving consistently, but the hospital staff were both rude and inept.  Fred has worked in a hospital before, and understands quite a lot about what medicines should be given and what dose for how long, and it's a good thing.  One medicine that was finished in two doses within 24 hours they tried to start him on again on the second day and again on the morning of the third day.  We have some friends who are nursing students who work at the hospital, and they got in trouble for coming to check on Innocent outside of the set times for rounds.  Every time a "doctor" (there are no actual medical doctors who work here, just "clinical officers" who call themselves doctors) came to see Innocent, they asked for the umpteenth time where the boy lives before inquiring about anything else, and telling the American medical students that are visiting that the parent is uncooperative, apparently assuming that Fred doesn't speak any English. 

Fred brought Inno home between his morning and evening treatments to eat and rest and watch TV, because otherwise he'd be spending the twelve hours between treatments alone staring at the ceiling of his hospital room. That way I could watch him while Fred got some work done at the office. Yesterday Innocent was released, he's looking heaps better and almost 100% recovered, except for a little nagging cough. We're really grateful that Innocent and Samuel are both healthy and strong.

They have a slogan in many of the hospitals and nursing schools here: "We treat, God heals."  I'm beginning to think that slogan isn't such a good idea to drum into the medical professionals' minds, because it almost seems to become an excuse for poor patient care.  Any kind of customer service or attention to patients' rights is non-existent, and the only people who seem to care if a patient dies are the family members of the patient.  Those family members who have nothing explained to them about what medicines or treatment the patient is undergoing, who are required to provide the patient's food and amenities, but only during certain strictly-enforced visiting hours, who are insulted or ignored by the "doctors," and who have zero recourse for complaint unless they happen to know someone important.  If the patient dies, it must have been God's will and have nothing to do with the standard of care the patient received.

All I know is that next time one of our boys is sick enough to need a hospital, we're hiring a car and going to one of the good hospitals in Kenya where they believe that God heals, but He sometimes uses doctors along the way.