Faithful readers of this blog will remember posts about some very long journeys I have taken, including the road trip that equaled roughly the breadth of the United States last July and the tour of eight airports on my way back to the States last November. This past week’s trip wins the award for “Most time spent in airports” as well as the “Maximum vehicular capacity” award. Interested? Read on.
Beginning on Monday the 16th, I took Fred to the airport in the morning and helped him get through the check-in process. I watched him pass through security, then ran a few errands and returned home to weigh my luggage one last time. I had a last late-night happy hour at the airport Stanford’s with my parents and a few friends, savoring my last Blue Moon until suddenly one of them mentioned that I had about ten minutes until my plane started boarding. After a momentary panic, it actually worked out perfectly because security was fast and I didn’t have time to linger over goodbyes. I was flying JetBlue to Dulles (since my flight to the States last spring was to the East Coast to visit my brother), and I had booked rather late on a crowded red eye flight, so I was relegated to the middle seat. The flight stopped at JFK first, and I had a four hour layover. The bit of carpet I chose for its strategic proximity to an outlet turned out to be an unofficial break area for airport employees. One, a Southeast Asian Muslim man, explained to me that there was roof construction nearby, and a net over the open construction area was allowing small birds to enter the airport, three of which were sitting on the seats near us. I know that this friendly employee was Muslim because he pulled out an Arabic prayer book and prayed quietly under his breath for most of his break. There was a short hour-long flight to Dulles, during which I had a window and empty seat separating me from another really nice man, this one wearing skinny jeans instead of a uniform and reading a book titled Straight? instead of a prayer book.
I spent most of the layover in Dulles on the linoleum floor of the ticketing area watching “The Biggest Loser” on my laptop (and updating this blog). I got a meal (by that time I had already lost track of appropriate meal times) and, with an hour left until the earliest possible check-in time, I pulled a jigsaw puzzle out of my bag. Disregarding the odd glances and tearful goodbyes of other waiting passengers, I got the border done just in time for check-in. Once I got to the gate, I got my last meal on American soil (a turkey sandwich on a jalapeno-cheddar bagel), watched one last episode of “Bones”, and boarded my flight to Istanbul.
On the plane they fed us another meal at approximately midnight local time before turning out the lights. Usually I am very strict about when I sleep while I’m flying internationally to prevent jetlag, but I had had only intermittent snatches of sleep in the previous 40 or so hours, so I hadn’t the energy to observe my sleep schedule. Both my international flights were only about 40% full, so I had a few seats to stretch out in, and slept pretty well. The rest of the flight was a confused jumble of movies, meals, and sleep. We arrived in the Istanbul airport, kicking off a three hour layover, most of which I spent playing a game on my Kindle and stealthily staring at the other East African passengers waiting for the flight thinking “Swahili! Vitenge dresses! Bizarre hand luggage!” (You’ll understand that last one if you’ve ever watched an African woman boarding with her open plastic tote full of her left-over food from the last flight and newspapers in languages she probably doesn’t understand.)
My excitement was building as I boarded that final flight. I presented my hard-won Tanzanian work visa with a flourish to the boarding agent who was checking passports and visas, and quietly scoffed at the amateurism of the other Westerners who were planning to get tourist visas at the airport (naturally I chose to forget that the last time I was flying to Tanzania I almost got turned away for having that exact same plan). At long, long last I boarded my last long flight from Turkey to Tanzania. Again, it was a blur of movie, food, and sleep, this time with the very interesting diversion of trying to figure out the relationship between a group of middle-aged Turkish men and the handful of Tanzanian middle-school aged boys they were travelling with. (My theories all had something to do with human trafficking until they were totally debunked by the boys’ families greeting them at the airport.) My favorite moment of the entire journey so far was exiting the plane and smelling Africa. I realized how bland and perfumed America smells compared to the humid odors of earth, vegetation, human body odor and waste. Sounds disgusting, I’m sure, but to me it smelled like home.
Entering the airport, my excitement peaked as I had my passport stamped (I got to shortcut around all the Westerners applying for their tourist visas), retrieved my bags, defended the contents of my luggage briefly to the disinterested customs official, then I passed through into Tanzania and was met by my husband and two of his friends.
Be sure to tune in tomorrow for Safari Ndefu Part Two - Fred and Leisha hit the road!
17 May 2011
One of those EPIC updates!
First off, we got married! Fred arrived five days before the ceremony, and we rushed around getting all the last minute details sorted out. Everything worked out, from license to suit to rings, and the day was really special for both of us.
As I write this, both Fred and I are in transit. Our flights are on different airlines through and to different cities. Fred left Portland for Nairobi via Amsterdam on Monday afternoon. He'll arrive Tuesday evening, sleep, then jump on a bus down to Dar es Salaam. I left Portland Monday night, stopped in New York City on the way to Washington, DC. I am writing this from the ticketing lobby of the Dulles Airport. I'll fly to Dar es Salaam via Istanbul, arriving really late Wednesday night/Thursday morning. Fred will be there to meet me (God willing) and we'll immediately head to the bus park to catch a bus from Dar es Salaam (on the far central eastern coast of Tanzania) to Mwanza (on the far western border of Tanzania). That will take all day, so we'll sleep in Mwanza, then carry on a few more hours to our home town of Shirati on Friday. Whew!
We got a few days for a honeymoon, and spent the remaining three weeks having dinners, breakfasts, coffees, prayer meetings, Bible studies, road trips and sightseeing. People kept asking us how we are settling into married life, but there's nothing settled about our life this past month!
Although this week will be a long, tough trek, after several rounds of goodbyes to family and friends, I feel much stronger than I did when I was making this trip in September 2009. It was hard to say goodbye to everyone, but I have so much I'm looking forward to in Tanzania that it was much easier to leave this time. I can't wait to see Fred on the other side of customs in Dar, and I can't wait to see our home in Shirati, but most of all, I can't wait to establish a home with my husband. For the past several years, I've not been able to call any one place in this world home, but now Fred is my home, no matter where that may be, and that makes me happy.
So I'm almost back home...in the arms of my husband. What a good gift from my Father! A better home than I could have ever imagined.
06 April 2011
Shadrack, my Fiance, and Letters
A few days ago we received word that Shadrack (on left) has died. Shadrack was an adorable, sweet kid who was part of the program at Tenderfeet Education Center. He had a brain tumor, and some friends in Texas took the initiative to get him the surgeries he needed. The brain tumor had caused some developmental difficulties, and Shadrack's friends arranged for him to be admitted to a great private school for kids suffering with disabilities. He started complaining of headaches again, and was admitted for another surgery, but died before getting to the operating room. I have had the chance to hang out with Shadrack on a number of occasions over the past five years, and it really saddens me that we've lost him.
Shadrack's second name was Otieno, the same as my fiance, Fred. They come from the same tribe, actually, which brings me to what's going on for Fred and I right now. We had hoped to get married at the end of March, but a long, complicated series of events meant that Fred's paperwork was delayed several weeks. We rescheduled the wedding for April 16th, and Fred has been working on getting his visa. Today he got to start that process, and, God willing, he'll get the appointment he needs tomorrow. If that goes well, he'll get his visa Thursday morning and fly out either that evening or Friday. We're praying a lot, but we also feel so much peace that this is God's hands. God is watching out for us, no matter what happens.
The whole story of how God brought us together is in the March/April support letter I'm about to send out. Many of you are on my mailing list, but if you're not, and would like to receive bi-monthly letters, shoot me an email or Facebook message with your address. I think that somehow I haven't been super clear about how I get money. I raise support, and I am reliant on donations from people who are interested and invested in my work. I get paid exactly what people donate to Lahash on my behalf. These bi-monthly letters are part of the way I help people learn about what God is doing in my life and ministry, and often have much more personal, intimate content than I would feel comfortable putting on my blog.
Speaking of personal, intimate content, I had a wonderful opportunity last night to speak at the healing groups at my church. Some trauma in my past has been beautifully restored by the grace of God in my life, and I got to share that with some people who are seeking that restoration in their own pain. It was awesome to hear how my story could encourage others who are suffering. It made me really grateful for the ways God has been working in my life personally, and using me to show his grace and hope to others. I hope you get a little hit of that grace in your life today.
05 March 2011
Rice and Beans...ish
This is Rice & Beans Month for Lahash, which is awesome...ish. I love this event, and I love the impact it has in East Africa. In fact, possibly one of my favorite things about this event is the opportunity it gives me to be the Rice & Beans Police. That's only partly a joke, because I'm known for selling this event hard and minimizing the difficulties. In general I don't suffer whiners gladly, and where R&B Month is concerned, I tend to flaunt my "Rice & Beans Year" or my "Rice & Beans for the rest of my life!" as credentials for riding herd, if you will, for the everyone else.
Like almost any police officer in the majority world, though, it turns out I am corrupt. While dishing out the R&B justice with a wicked-edged tongue, I admit that I'm wussing out. At this moment, I'm eating rice and beans for lunch, but what's that in my backpack?
Yes, that would be an open bag of free ginger snaps from Trader Joe's. When I went there to buy my lunch supplies (which will be a post on the R&B blog), they gave me a free bag of cookies for not using a bag to carry out my groceries. Oh, and what's that next to my little snack of hypocrisy? A DVD from The Justice Conference that says "What are you willing to die for?" Apparently I'm willing to die for my kids in East Africa, I'm just not willing to give up cookies for them. Truth is...I will probably eat that entire bag of cookies, because, as Doc Holliday says in the movie Tombstone "My hypocrisy knows no bounds."
I justify my half-assed approach to Rice & Beans Month a lot of ways, and if it was important to justify myself to all of y'all (grammar shoutout to Dan and Casey here), I'd list out my reasons, and most of you would probably let me off the hook. I guess what I'm learning from writing all this out is that whether or not I eat rice and beans this month and how pure I am about it has nothing to do with all of you. It has nothing to do with whether I get "caught" in my cookie gluttony. It has nothing to do with kids in East Africa. What I'm learning (again and still) is that I often fail to have grace for the people around me. Chances are I'd have more grace for a thief than a R&B cheater...and how insane is that? More insane is that when I "cheat", I'm taking advantage of the very grace that I refuse to others when they show weakness. bleh.
So that whole convoluted "think out loud" process is to say this: next time I'm being harsh with or about someone else, just ask if I have any cookies in my backpack.
23 February 2011
Long time, No post, but BIG NEWS
There are a few major reasons that I haven't really updated my blog lately.
Reason No. 1: Being in Portland has been SO much busier, and a much faster pace than life in Tanzania. Not having the same amount of rest as I do when I'm in TZ means that it's a lot harder for me to organize my thoughts and develop an idea to blog about. Also, my work load has been different, a ton more meetings, a very social work environment with volunteers and co-workers, and a lot of projects that can I can do to help others out with.
Reason No. 2: I've been learning so much about so many things at events like The Justice Conference and the Global Missions Conference at Multnomah University, as well as books, blogs, movies, and conversations with so many people. I have ideas about rest & sabbath, human slavery, living in balanced justice, food sources and health, relational ties and types, authority, respect, dignity, and loads of other things floating around in my head. I have so many pieces of so many things, and haven't really organized any of them fully, so it's hard to think of how to invite anyone else into them!
But the biggest reason I haven't been blogging is...
Reason No. 3: The biggest thing on my plate for the past four months was not something I could discuss publicly on this blog: my relationship with Fred Otieno. Fred and I met in early November, shortly before I came back to the States to see my family and friends. He works for the Mennonite church in another city, and we met at some Mennonite church meetings. He knew almost as soon as we met that God had designed our meeting, although I took a few extra days to realize that fact. We began "dating" (relational timeline terms do not mean the same things in different cultures) after the seminar ended, but because we lived in different cities in Tanzania and I left to come back to the States less than a week later, our courtship or dating or whatever you want to call it, happened over phone calls, emails, and text messages. We began making plans for Fred to come over and meet my family before I returned to Tanzania, and decided that we would get engaged when he came so that my family could be part of a formal part of our relationship developing.
Then, for several reasons, it was determined that I should stay longer in the States, and after much discussion and prayer, Fred and I decided that when he comes, instead of getting engaged, we will get married! There are so many reasons we believe that God has brought us together, in God's perfect timing and design, and we are so excited to begin our life together. Obviously this is not a conventional relationship in many ways, and in many other ways it is extremely old-fashioned and very conventional!
March 26th is the date we have set for our very small, mostly family wedding and reception. In the next few months and weeks, you'll see a transition from this blog being just my thoughts and experiences to being the thoughts and experiences of Fred and I as a married couple. As we begin this new season of life, we invite your prayers, questions, encouragement and advice. Thank you for being a part of this exciting new season of life for me/us!
Reason No. 1: Being in Portland has been SO much busier, and a much faster pace than life in Tanzania. Not having the same amount of rest as I do when I'm in TZ means that it's a lot harder for me to organize my thoughts and develop an idea to blog about. Also, my work load has been different, a ton more meetings, a very social work environment with volunteers and co-workers, and a lot of projects that can I can do to help others out with.
Reason No. 2: I've been learning so much about so many things at events like The Justice Conference and the Global Missions Conference at Multnomah University, as well as books, blogs, movies, and conversations with so many people. I have ideas about rest & sabbath, human slavery, living in balanced justice, food sources and health, relational ties and types, authority, respect, dignity, and loads of other things floating around in my head. I have so many pieces of so many things, and haven't really organized any of them fully, so it's hard to think of how to invite anyone else into them!
But the biggest reason I haven't been blogging is...
Reason No. 3: The biggest thing on my plate for the past four months was not something I could discuss publicly on this blog: my relationship with Fred Otieno. Fred and I met in early November, shortly before I came back to the States to see my family and friends. He works for the Mennonite church in another city, and we met at some Mennonite church meetings. He knew almost as soon as we met that God had designed our meeting, although I took a few extra days to realize that fact. We began "dating" (relational timeline terms do not mean the same things in different cultures) after the seminar ended, but because we lived in different cities in Tanzania and I left to come back to the States less than a week later, our courtship or dating or whatever you want to call it, happened over phone calls, emails, and text messages. We began making plans for Fred to come over and meet my family before I returned to Tanzania, and decided that we would get engaged when he came so that my family could be part of a formal part of our relationship developing.
Then, for several reasons, it was determined that I should stay longer in the States, and after much discussion and prayer, Fred and I decided that when he comes, instead of getting engaged, we will get married! There are so many reasons we believe that God has brought us together, in God's perfect timing and design, and we are so excited to begin our life together. Obviously this is not a conventional relationship in many ways, and in many other ways it is extremely old-fashioned and very conventional!
March 26th is the date we have set for our very small, mostly family wedding and reception. In the next few months and weeks, you'll see a transition from this blog being just my thoughts and experiences to being the thoughts and experiences of Fred and I as a married couple. As we begin this new season of life, we invite your prayers, questions, encouragement and advice. Thank you for being a part of this exciting new season of life for me/us!
05 January 2011
21 December 2010
I Don't Know What I'm Doing Here
In true American fashion, I have found myself too busy of late to sit down and write a blog update. Usually when it happens in Dodoma that I go a few weeks between blog posts, I just run down major events that have happened with the kids or my roommates. When I look at the events of the past few weeks, it is a series of coffees, lunches, and dinners with friends and supporters. Not exactly blog-worthy, although significant for me.
I hadn't put a lot of thought into how I would spend my work time while I was here, and have had a number of people ask me if I am doing any speaking events. I am doing a few small-ish speaking events for groups like my mom's high-school students, my grandmother's social club, and my Home Community. Instead of large speaking events, I've been focusing on spending time investing deeper in relationship with the people who are invested in me and the work God has called me to, mostly in one-on-one or one-on-few kind of environments.
I've had a fair number of highs and lows in terms of enjoying my time back in the States. Overall, I've loved hanging out with my friends and family, but the pressure of being back is, at times, both overwhelming and depressing. I know it will be hard for some to hear, but, to be honest, I've been reduced to tears a time or two, wishing I had the extra $250 to change my ticket so that I can "go home". When I shared this with my Home Community last week, I explained it like this: "Being back here is like putting on a pair of shoes that don't fit anymore, then running a marathon." *sigh* It's difficult to hold on to "Tanzanian Leisha" and her values and priorities while being in "American Leisha's" environment.
On a lighter note, here are a few things that have startled me about how things/I have changed in the time that I've been gone:
1. Women Without Much Left On
I'm sure there was a progression from jeans to skinny jeans to leggings with dresses to leggings with tunics to leggings without much else, but I think I left somewhere during the beginning of leggings with dresses and have returned at the height of leggings without much else. It's startling to see friends who I know are modest, fashionable women publicly wearing clothes that African women would barely consider reasonable undergarments. I've done double-takes more times than I can count, startled at the obvious display of certain parts of female anatomy. (And let's remember that I'm coming from a culture where public breast-feeding doesn't even merit note.)
2. "Let Me Check My Brain"
I knew a handful of tech-saavy people with iPhones before I left, but I am astounded at how many people now have an iPhone or Android or iPad or whatever other device. I got my first glimpse of the prevalence of this technological dependence in the airports on my way back, where a gate full of people waiting for planes stared into their hand-held brains. A friend who has lived in Portland for several years now just admitted that he still doesn't really know his way around because he relies on his phone to get him from point A to point B without him having to remember the route. I'm sure there are long-term implications for our memory capacity, but I have to admit that I marvel at the ability of my borrowed Android to bounce a signal off of a satellite in space and tell me my location within a few feet. Scary and awesome at the same time...
3. Trust Me, It's Best For Everyone
My driving instincts are in the toilet. Even after a whole month back, I still don't trust myself to get behind the wheel of a car. Even though I had driven for ten years in America, after one year of driving in Tanzania, where we drive on the opposite side of the road, sit on the opposite side of the car, and obey only minimal road rules, I don't trust myself to drive here yet. Maybe I'll start driving again when I can go a week without walking to the wrong side of the car or looking the wrong direction before crossing a street or wondering why someone comes to a complete stop at an intersection. In the meantime, I'm rather enjoying riding the bus and walking, although my parents and friends are probably over having to pick me up or drop me off in random places.
So hopefully I've redeemed the bummer start to this post with a little witty cultural reflection, but if not, go easy on me. I'm a fish out of water.
I hadn't put a lot of thought into how I would spend my work time while I was here, and have had a number of people ask me if I am doing any speaking events. I am doing a few small-ish speaking events for groups like my mom's high-school students, my grandmother's social club, and my Home Community. Instead of large speaking events, I've been focusing on spending time investing deeper in relationship with the people who are invested in me and the work God has called me to, mostly in one-on-one or one-on-few kind of environments.
I've had a fair number of highs and lows in terms of enjoying my time back in the States. Overall, I've loved hanging out with my friends and family, but the pressure of being back is, at times, both overwhelming and depressing. I know it will be hard for some to hear, but, to be honest, I've been reduced to tears a time or two, wishing I had the extra $250 to change my ticket so that I can "go home". When I shared this with my Home Community last week, I explained it like this: "Being back here is like putting on a pair of shoes that don't fit anymore, then running a marathon." *sigh* It's difficult to hold on to "Tanzanian Leisha" and her values and priorities while being in "American Leisha's" environment.
On a lighter note, here are a few things that have startled me about how things/I have changed in the time that I've been gone:
1. Women Without Much Left On
I'm sure there was a progression from jeans to skinny jeans to leggings with dresses to leggings with tunics to leggings without much else, but I think I left somewhere during the beginning of leggings with dresses and have returned at the height of leggings without much else. It's startling to see friends who I know are modest, fashionable women publicly wearing clothes that African women would barely consider reasonable undergarments. I've done double-takes more times than I can count, startled at the obvious display of certain parts of female anatomy. (And let's remember that I'm coming from a culture where public breast-feeding doesn't even merit note.)
2. "Let Me Check My Brain"
I knew a handful of tech-saavy people with iPhones before I left, but I am astounded at how many people now have an iPhone or Android or iPad or whatever other device. I got my first glimpse of the prevalence of this technological dependence in the airports on my way back, where a gate full of people waiting for planes stared into their hand-held brains. A friend who has lived in Portland for several years now just admitted that he still doesn't really know his way around because he relies on his phone to get him from point A to point B without him having to remember the route. I'm sure there are long-term implications for our memory capacity, but I have to admit that I marvel at the ability of my borrowed Android to bounce a signal off of a satellite in space and tell me my location within a few feet. Scary and awesome at the same time...
3. Trust Me, It's Best For Everyone
My driving instincts are in the toilet. Even after a whole month back, I still don't trust myself to get behind the wheel of a car. Even though I had driven for ten years in America, after one year of driving in Tanzania, where we drive on the opposite side of the road, sit on the opposite side of the car, and obey only minimal road rules, I don't trust myself to drive here yet. Maybe I'll start driving again when I can go a week without walking to the wrong side of the car or looking the wrong direction before crossing a street or wondering why someone comes to a complete stop at an intersection. In the meantime, I'm rather enjoying riding the bus and walking, although my parents and friends are probably over having to pick me up or drop me off in random places.
So hopefully I've redeemed the bummer start to this post with a little witty cultural reflection, but if not, go easy on me. I'm a fish out of water.
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