We Weep Together

The women gathering around the home
of the grieving family.

As I entered the kitchen this morning, I heard wailing outside my window. A death in the village. I found out through a friend that one of my “Traveling Abiya” ladies, Zeinab, had lost a son. He had been in an accident in Cairo and had died around 2 am. She had received the call shortly thereafter.

Cultural protocol says that it is proper to go visit the grieving family as soon as you hear the news. My friend and I immediately got ready and walked the short distance from our homes.

Already outside were clumps of silent women all dressed in black with their heads low. I made eye contact with them and nodded my head in respect.

As I entered the simple concrete home, I saw Zeinab lying on the bed covered with a sheet. Her headscarf had fallen off so that little shocks of orange hair poked out. Her dimmed eyes and weathered face had experienced many difficult times in her long life, but to lose a son is one of the most devastating.

All eyes were on my friend and me as we knelt beside this dear old soul, took her hands and wept. 

I cried with this mother who had received such heart-wrenching news. I cried with this family who mourn the loss of their husband, father, brother and cousin. I cried knowing that in Islam, they all weep because they do not know if Allah will be merciful to this man’s soul.

Other women began entering so I moved to the side of the bed and sat down. The wailing would sometimes erupt and it would almost be more than I could bear, but I’m here to live life alongside them. Life which includes heat, birthday parties, all-night weddings, community, boredom and even death. 

Zeinab began recounting the call she received from her son just hours before the accident. He was coming to see her and his family for Eid Al Adha (Feast of the Sacrifice). She had been so excited. Her family would be together. Then she received another call. Her son had been riding a bicycle, a car swerved, he was dead on arrival at the hospital. At this she began crying again asking, “When will I see him again? When? Only Allah knows.” She repeated the story trying to convince herself that it was actually true. 

The small room was becoming crowded with more mourners. My friend and I stood to leave but first needed to acknowledge each woman in the room. (The men were in a house next door.) I took the hand of each one, hugged them and whispered, “Robina myik” ("Our Lord be with you") and I truly meant it. Jesus, be with this village, this family, this woman who has little time left on this earth. Show yourself to them as you are…loving, compassionate, forgiving and One who gives hope.

We walked out of the home and greeted the other women who had gathered outside. We then sat with them on a concrete stoop as is custom to express that the village shares in the grief of the family.

I will return this evening for another visit after sunset. Her son must be buried according to Islamic tradition on the same day of death before sunset. Her family was working feverishly to have his body brought to our city which is a 12-14 hour drive from Cairo in time to meet the requirements. His body will be prepared for burial in her home. The family will say their goodbyes and will carry the son out of the village to the edge of the cemetery where the men will then continue on to bury him. (Women are not allowed in the cemetery during funerals.)

Everyone will return to the village and that will be when I visit again. This will continue for three days, but will be most difficult because of the Eid which begins on Thursday. Normally, this most holy of holidays in Islam is one full of feasting and celebration. The village will now have to balance the two events being careful to show respect to Zeinab’s family while also observing this special time of year for all Muslims.

I’ll try to navigate this time as well. John’s traveling so I’ll have to represent the family while he’s away. Please pray that I have understanding and discernment of the language and cultural nuances, but mostly that I would represent Jesus’ heart to this broken family. 

Apollo 48: "Houston, We Have a Birthday..."

Today’s my birthday. My 48th year on this planet. I’m feeling somewhat reflective and also a bit incredulous that I’m not the size 3 I promised myself I would be at this time last year. But so as not to damper the celebratory spirit, I will skip over that last part and just comfort myself with the idea that I’m harder to kidnap at this weight.

48 is not one of those birthdays that gets the “geezer” banners or the inflatable dentures as decoration. Nor does it warrant a black light bowling party or a pub crawl (Diet Coke crawl in my case). Still 48 years… 

I haven’t written the Great American Novel. I can barely keep up with my blog. I watched an episode of “Madam Secretary” and wondered why a woman my age could be Secretary of State and I’m not her. (I would thrive at all the State Dinners, but would not fare so well in the details of peace agreements.) I’ve even considered continuing my education, but the course catalog has so many interesting possibilities…yet realistically I have to weed out the ones that take longer than I have years left. (That’s a startling revelation. Brain surgeon? No longer an option. Sigh.)

These years, days, minutes, seconds…come by but once. Even then I can’t know just how many are left.

If you’ll allow me to digress for a moment, I’d like to take you back to the spaceflight of Apollo 13. Jim Lovell, Fred Haise and Jack Swigert left the earth’s atmosphere on April 11, 1970 to be the third American spacecraft to land on the moon. On April 13, an oxygen tank exploded crippling the service module thus changing the course of the mission.

They were no longer astronauts and explorers responsible for discovering new territories, but now they were commissioned to survive. To do this, they had to become everything at once…scientists, mechanics, pilots, engineers, survivalists, counselors, consultants. Their whole paradigm changed in a moment and remarkably, they adapted. Lovell, Haise and Swigert worked day and night (along with NASA) to find potential solutions for their predicament. On April 17 they returned to the earth in what some called NASA’s “Most Successful Failure.”

Uh…thanks…Pam. That was…uh…informative. What’s the point? Well, if there is one it would be this. In 48 years, I’ve had many “moon” goals. Goals that were admirable and exciting. I’ve even had opportunity to attain some of them and exclaim something profound like Neil Armstrong, “One small step for man. One giant bowl of Haagen-Dazs for Pamkind.” 

I’ve also experienced Apollo 13 moments when the “moon” was no longer the mission. I had to adapt my thinking and develop in ways that I never considered possible. I’m grateful. For in my “most successful failures” I have discovered a broader trust in God and a deepened character in me that would not have been revealed in only “moon experiences.”

So whether I have 48 years plus one day or 48 years doubled, I can anticipate the future with hope knowing that Jesus will equip me and prepare me whatever missions may come…moon or not.  Now to all my family and friends in whom I've had so many glorious moments in time I say, "It's been a privilege flying with you." 

Go for launch!

How to Keep Your Home "Spring Clean" All Year!

I've been known to love lists, charts, files and folders.  Guilty as charged.  However, as much as I love being organized I found in the years of having small children that "forever clean" was a fleeting dream.  I simply couldn't come up with enough time, energy and non-assistance from little hands.  Some seasons the house was quite tidy.  Other times, OSHA should have been called.  

I began to adopt a system that has continued to work for me through the years and I thought that since it is now Spring and all, that I would share it with you.  I not only use this system for cleaning, but also for upcoming events that require extra time and organization.

For those of you who are quite clever, I am SURE there's an app for this.  Sometimes I'm old fashioned and just want a piece of paper I can carry around in my pocket.  

For my friends who continue to laugh and mock my attempts at a Zen life…I laugh with you and understand that I am sometimes simply over the top. 

PS  I'm starting another round of WHOLE30 today.  To celebrate, you may send bouquets of feather dusters in lieu of candy.

How to Keep Your Home Spring Clean All Year!

1.  Purchase an index box with 2 tabs and index cards in four different colors.

2.  Label the tabs: Weekly, Monthly

3.  Next, on a separate sheet of paper write down every cleaning task you can imagine that needs to be done in your home.  For example:

Mop kitchen floor
Vacuum living room carpet
Dust furniture
Organize Food Pantry
Clean out closet
Organize "junk" drawer
Bleach counter tops
Clean under the refrigerator
Clean oven
Mop bathroom floor
Scour bathtub/shower
Clean bathroom
Sweep garage floor
Organize garage
Sort clothes (keep, store, give away)

4.  Approximate how long each task will take you.  For example:  

Sweep and mop kitchen floor-20 minutes
Vacuum living room carpet-30 minutes
Dust furniture-30 minutes
Organize Food Pantry-30 minutes
Clean out closet-1 hour
Organize "junk" drawer-10 minutes
Bleach counter tops-20 minutes
Clean under the refrigerator-10 minutes
Clean oven-20 minutes
Mop bathroom floor-20 minutes
Scour bathtub/shower-10 minutes
Clean bathroom-30 minutes
Sweep garage floor-10 minutes
Organize garage-1 hour
Sort clothes (keep, store, give away)-1 hour

5.  Now divide your index cards based on color.  For example: pink cards are 10 minutes, blue cards are 20 minutes, yellow cards are 30 minutes and green cards are 1 hour.

6.  Write down all your 10 minute tasks giving each task its own card.  Continue with the 20 minute tasks, 30 minute, etc.  For example:

Top right of card:  10
Middle of card: Organize "junk drawer"

7.  Now create 2 sections in your box by placing the "Weekly" tab at the front and the "Monthly" tab behind it.

8.  Put all your "Weekly" tasks in time order starting with pink 10 minute cards, then blue 20 minute cards, etc. Do the same for the "Monthly" tasks.  For example:

WEEKLY: Scour bathtub/shower-10 minutes
WEEKLY: Sweep garage floor-10 minutes
WEEKLY: Sweep and mop kitchen floor-20 minutes
WEEKLY: Bleach counter tops-20 minutes
WEEKLY: Mop bathroom floor-20 minutes
WEEKLY: Vacuum living room carpet-30 minutes
WEEKLY: Dust furniture-30 minutes
WEEKLY: Clean bathroom-30 minutes

MONTHLY: Organize "junk" drawer-10 minutes
MONTHLY: Clean under the refrigerator-10 minutes
MONTHLY: Clean oven-20 minutes
MONTHLY: Organize Food Pantry-30 minutes
MONTHLY: Clean out closet-1 hour
MONTHLY: Organize garage-1 hour
MONTHLY: Sort clothes (keep, store, give away)-1 hour

9.  Now as you are going through your day and you find yourself in between errands or the next event, check your watch.  Do I have 10 minutes?  Maybe 20?  If so, pull one of the cards and do the task on it.  When you have completed it, move it to the back of the section. 

10.  Work through the cards whenever you have small increments of time.  If you have children, add a section for them.  They can pull cards too which helps them focus on a specific task.  

You'll have an organized, sparkling home the whole year through!

Fatima Hatfield and Hanan McCoy

Our village along the Nile

It started out innocently enough. John and I had a few errands to run so we put on our best walking sandals (Chacos for John for everything, every day and Clarks for me...Thank you, sweet Mother-In-Love!) and headed up the path out of our village. We had almost reached the part where the village road meets the city road when my sandal strap broke.

Sidebar: Any shoe that can last longer than 6 months in this terrain gets 5 stars. These had lasted almost an entire year! RIP, Beloved Shoes. 

But I digress...John told me to go sit and visit with an older lady who was peeling a bag full of garlic while he went to the apartment to get me another pair of sandals. (Same brand of sandals in various colors.)

I greeted Lulee* and she began asking about my daughters, MiMi (Emileigh) and Aya (Aria). I asked about her family and noticed that children began gathering around us curious to see what the khawayja "foreigner" was doing. They smiled shyly and we began chatting a bit. 

The scene of "The Episode"

From the corner of my eye, I could see two women coming out of their homes and looking up to another building across the path. I followed their sightline and noticed a woman in the second story standing at her window. Let's call her "Fatima." Fatima began raining down all sorts of words to the women below. She was clearly angry about something. I was trying my best to understand what was happening, but I am not fluent yet in Angry Arabic.

One of the two ladies below, let's call her "Hanan", returned the shouts complete with fist-waving and other colorful gestures. Lulee kept peeling her garlic nonplussed by it all. The children continued trying to engage me. I wanted to make sure that I was out of the path of any flying debris.

Fatima continued with a long diatribe that included "HE IS..." "HE SHOULD NOT..." Again, bits and pieces, but no clear story emerging.

The scene was escalating so Lulee shouted to the women that we had a "guest" with us and they should "cool it." (My word insertions here...)

They didn't care and continued back and forth now drawing additional village people to see what all the hubbub was about.

The mahkwaghee (the man in the village who does all the ironing for everyone) came from behind his ironing board and stood in the middle of them with his hands stretched out to the side giving them the "stop" gesture.

They did pause for a moment and then began directing all their angry words toward him. He looked up at me, smiled, shrugged his shoulders and went back to ironing.

It was at this time that John called me and asked, "What color sandals do you want me to bring?"

He had no idea what was going on. I said, "I don't care. Whatever. Just get here!"

He said, "Well, there are some kind of grayish ones and black ones, but I don't see any brown ones."

On most days I would love a man that would care that his wife wanted to be coordinated, but today I just wanted him to get back so that we could get out of the very awkward crossfire. 

He said, "Okay, I'll just bring these gray ones. See you in a few."

As I hung up, another woman stepped in and demanded that Fatima stop immediately and go back inside. This lady must have wielded some power because Fatima did quiet down, however continued muttering.

Hanan said a parting word to which Fatima had to respond, which made Hanan say one more thing. This continued back and forth until everyone settled down and returned to their homes.

I smiled at Lulee who had never once stopped peeling her garlic buds. The children continued to try to entertain me when John walked up and said, "Here ya go!"

I put my (obviously brown, not gray) sandals on, kissed Lulee goodbye and began walking out of the village.

I told John all the excitement he had missed. He said that it was great that the villagers felt comfortable enough to argue in front of me. Ah, yes. Mr. Sunshine Pants. My adrenaline hadn't worn off yet, but I'm sure I would eventually come to the same conclusion. 

Maybe someday I'll have enough Arabic to jump in and join or even mediate! But for now, I'm just grateful for backup sandals, my garlic-peeling friend and everyday life among the Nubians even when I don't quite understand or know what to say or know what to do. I'm learning and that's okay. They seem to be okay with it, too. That's a good feeling even when it's not. 

_______________________

*Not her real name

Hospitals, Mangoes & Parasites, Oh My!

Well…what to say? What. to. say. 

Post-Op Thumbs Up!

I’ve had a few false starts with this entry simply because I am struggling between telling it like it is and also retaining some decorum for the public stage. There’s a fine line it seems in the craft of “being real” without crossing into “sensationalism” or “artistic liberties.” I’ll try to keep it between the ditches.

This Summer has been challenging on a few fronts for me personally. I had major surgery in June and then returned to our desert abode prepared to recuperate without much ado. I imagined doing things like visiting neighbors and eating mangoes. One was great with good results. The other caused my face to swell, turn bumpy red and itch like crazy for about a week. I’ll let you guess which one is which. 

Feeling de-swelled enough to rejoin the public, I went with some friends to a beach area along the Nile on the 4th of July. I was still not completely recovered from surgery so I chose to sit ankle deep in the water and take it easy. A few days later, I noticed that I was nauseated, head pounding and stomach bloating. What in the world?!

Can you call it a beach if everything
is made of sand?

A few other symptoms appeared and soon I was bedridden watching my stomach get bigger while my appetite decreased (THAT is a sure sign that I am nearing the Gloryland…).  I began to Google my symptoms and discovered that I could be dying of any number of terrible diseases. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all.

We finally spoke to a doctor here in town and he thought that it might be giardiasis. Look it up. If I start to describe it here, it’ll make me queasy all over again and I’ll go screaming into the desert yelling, “GET THEM OUT! GET THEM ALL OUT!” 

It’s pretty common here, but since I hadn’t had it before I didn’t know just how terrible it could make a person feel. The doctor gave me 4 giant pills to take at once and said that that should take care of it. That was on Sunday of this week. Monday I felt great. Tuesday my stomach began pooching out again and by Wednesday I was given 4 more giant pills to finish off the last of the resistant trouble in my system. Today is Friday and I am feeling human again…around 90% which has been the highest percentage since maybe January. Woot!

I’m telling you all this for a few reasons:

1) It explains the gaps between blog entries. (Remember my rule that I never write while using prescription drugs?)
2) I want to report the highs AND the lows. There are plenty of good things to tell you, but it wouldn’t be an honest chronicle if none of the challenges were mentioned.
3) You’re my friend and getting to share all of my life makes the separation by an ocean easier…even if that includes parasitic discussions.
4) I don’t have a “Chicken Soup for the Soul: Desert Edition” to cheer myself up.

I’ll have another entry about some of the great things that have happened this Summer running parallel to the challenges, but alas I grow weak in my typing. Ha. Not really. It’s actually a bit late in the day and I forgot that I have chicken thawing…I’d like to avoid salmonella poisoning for at least a week.

Shopping for beads helps me heal quicker.

Par-TAY

Decorated piece of candy

 At 4:57 pm Thursday we heard a forceful knock at the door. Upon opening we discovered our tiny neighbor girl of about 6 smiling brightly and presenting us with an envelope. Inside was an invitation to a birthday party for a boy turning 1. We smiled as we saw the day and time. It was for this same Thursday at 10 pm. A toddler’s birthday starting at 10. We laughed and thanked her and began rethinking our schedule for the day.

It was important that we attend. In this culture, a one year old's birthday party is very special. I think it stems back to the fact that before vaccinations and clean water the infant mortality rate was incredibly high. To have a child that lived to his first birthday meant that he had a good chance of survival so a celebration took place. That tradition carries on today. 

In order to hang out with these night owls, we have to sometime include a proactive nap somewhere in the day. John pressed through with his to-do list, but I “rested my eyes” for a bit so as to be alert and conscious.

Special chandeliers for the party...

Throughout the rest of the evening we noticed that our lights kept getting dim and our voltage regulator kept making whirring noises. We couldn’t figure out what was happening until we saw a guy on a ladder outside our door taking a wire and adding it to our electric pole. He needed electricity for all the party lights so he just helped himself.

The party was right next door so we had the advantage of being able to peek out the window to see when the other invitees actually started showing up. FYI: If the invitation says 10 pm, it’s never 10 pm. The question is…Is it 11 or later?  Sure enough around 10:45 pm others began gathering in a garden area that had 10 round tables set up along with a dance floor and party lights.

The women were sitting in one area and the men the other so John and I smiled and went to our respective groups. There I was received warmly by the other women with kisses and handshakes and told to sit down beside them. We chatted for a while as we waited for the family of the 1-year-old to make their appearance. During this time, a woman presented me with a piece of paper and a pen. I wasn’t sure what to do. She told me to write a blessing for the baby on the paper. I did and then put it in a giant plastic baby bottle designated.

Some of the decorations

From a side building 3 characters appeared that looked to be Winnie the Pooh, Donald Duck and Jerry (of the Tom and Jerry cartoons). The costumes were pretty busted, but the kids didn’t care. They swarmed them and began jumping up and down to greet them.

After a bit of visiting, the family of the birthday boy arrived and presented us with a tray of chocolates that had been individually decorated in blue with “Baby Boy” on top. I took one at her insistence as did the others. Once the tray was passed around, she ushered us into their home where a large table was laden with a giant sheet cake with her son’s picture on it. Around it were juice boxes, candies, mini-pizzas, the works.

As all people gathered around the table, giant sparklers were added to the cake and the lights were dimmed. We sang (to my shock) “Happy Birthday” in English as the sparklers lit up the room. Then a version in Arabic. We all clapped as the one year old looked around trying to figure out what was going on.

The cake!

The beaming father asked us to return to the garden where they served us pizza, salty snacks, cake and bottles of water. We visited with one another and wondered what else would happen at the party.

A magician appeared on stage and for the next hour he amused and thrilled the children. We were just getting ready to depart (as it was creeping up on 12:30 am) when the cartoon characters appeared and created a conga line of sorts. John was in the direct line of fire. Soon Winnie, Donald, Jerry and John were dancing up and down the aisles making the whole evening completely worthwhile.

As soon as he was able, he took an exit ramp and returned to his chair. More dance music was cranked and I was surprised that the whole playlist was Western music including, “Peanut Butter Jelly Time,” “Spon-gee Bob” and something by Akon (a 10 year old girl next to me told me).

Our sweet neighbor and the beautifully decorated table

The father danced with the newly turned one year old throwing him up in the air every once in a while to keep things exciting. The mother walked from table to table to make sure her guests were cared for. I could only see her eyes behind her veil, but she smiled warmly at me and pressed another piece of candy into my hand.

Some other local friends began saying their goodbyes, so John and I took that as our cue that we could as well. We thanked our host and said our goodbyes.

The next day we heard another sturdy knock on the door. It was our same little neighbor friend smiling and holding a gift bag that said, “Baby Boy.” She said that these were party favors from the host. She opened the bag and showed us the party confetti, glow-in-the-dark necklaces, candy and a blue ink pen.

We thanked her and smiled. Family here is premium and marking special events in their lives is important. We're so thankful to be a part, share life and to learn how to form a proper conga line. :)

Oh, Mango!

Last summer with Aria and our wonderful friend (and mangoes).

Right after I was basking in the bliss of life here, I indulged in a mango that had been just-picked by one of our dearest friends, Ahmed*. His family has an orchard on a nearby island and the mangoes were ripe for the pickin’. 

Amazing mangoes

Last summer, Ahmed brought these same mangoes to us so John and I promptly indulged ourselves with multiple helpings. That is until the next day when I swelled up and couldn’t see out of my left eye. After some research, I discovered that mangoes have the same oil on their skin as poison ivy. BEFORE I knew that, I had cut the mangoes, wiped my brow from sweat, handled the mangoes some more and KAPOW! That was 10 days of Rocky Balboa-esque appearance that I didn’t care to repeat. 

Mangoes for sale everywhere.

This time, John handled the mangoes (no affect on him…not sure why) and I ate them. However, one day he was busy, I was hungry so I approached the mango extraction like a neurosurgeon. I had knives, towels, cutting boards…everything necessary to keep all mango oil away from me. I scrubbed my face and hands afterward and then ate the mango. 24 hours later…no effect. Sweeeeeeet!
The next day I did the same. It was on the third day that I realized I had been delusional. I could not beat the mangoes, but rather it looked as though the mangoes had beaten me. I was completely swollen shut, red and itching. So attractive.

I looked at John and all he could say was, “You poor thing.” That was his mantra as he tried to find any form of relief for me over the last 5 days. 

This was early in the reaction,
but I'm too vain to post more.

I have to accept that mangoes are not my friend. At least this variety. Sadness. There really isn’t anything better than a perfectly ripened mango from Africa. 

Today I am up and about again ready to face the public. The swelling has receded and my facial features have shifted back into place.

It’s Ramadan so we want to be out in the village visiting our friends in the evening…my appearance last week would not have brought the feeling of good tidings to them. So now I’ll bake over the next couple days and spend time with our neighbors as they continue into the second week of a 30-day fast. However, mangoes will not be on the menu. 

___________________

*Not his real name.

Feeling much better now!

I'm Glad to Be Here

Lights and Lanterns are used for
decoration during Ramadan.

It’s been a while since I’ve written and there’s good reason. Long ago, when I began blogging I made an internal rule that I would not, WOULD NOT post things when taking medication. I broke that rule a couple times which turned out not to be a good choice. So I stuck to it this time and now I am breaking my silence. I know you’re on pins and needles.

Our formal wear...

Speaking of needles, I recently was in the hospital for surgery. What kind of surgery you ask? Sorry. I just can’t type about my internal organs publicly. I’m happy to dialogue privately if you’re interested. (I even have printouts!)

Now I am in the convalescing stage and am doing quite well. So well that I don’t need any further narcotics and thus today’s post. 

It’s Day 7 of Ramadan in the Muslim world and we are reminded once again what a difficult requirement this is of those who follow Islam. No water, food or any other vice from sunup to sundown. Here that has been around 14 hours of sunlight and the temps have been consistently over 100 every day. It’s brutal, but the dear people in our village are sincere, devout. 

This is a small meal!

As we were greeting our neighbors this evening, they welcomed us warmly and continued on to the mosque where they recite portions of the Qu’ran every night of Ramadan. Allah weighs good and bad deeds and the things done in devotion to Islam during Ramadan bear more weight. 

I baked cupcakes today and will distribute them tomorrow to our friends along with a prayer of blessing. They really, really like the Hershey’s Perfect Chocolate Cake recipe. So I make it every time. 

After mosque, many will return home with family and watch the special TV programs that are aired during this season. A-List movies from America, series such as “24”, “The Unit” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” are all quite popular. They also enjoy soap operas that are produced in-country just for Ramadan.

The work schedules for many people are adjusted. Everyone will eat one last meal at 2:30 am and then sleep until around 11 am. Many will then go to work and stay until 6 pm. Then they return home to be ready to eat at sunset which is signified by the blasting of a cannon and calls from all the mosques.

Sunset is signified by the sound of a cannon
and from loudspeakers at mosques.

It’s a time of abundance as families will spend far more than they usually do to create lavish meals each evening. It’s a bucketload of work, too! Imagine having 20 extremely hungry people at your table every night. Yikes! Waltons times 2 and they didn’t have to try to make those rolled up grape leaves thingies.

We are grateful to be here. Yes, I actually said that. It’s difficult trying to plan our day when so many things are closed or when shopping for certain items means going at 10 pm. All of society’s schedule changes for an entire month! And the use of firecrackers at all hours of the night is encouraged. But it’s good to be with our friends, to speak to them of grace, peace and Jesus. How else would different ideas be introduced except through spending time together, building trust and sharing life?

The cloth is called "Ramadan Cloth"
used to decorate during this season.

So thanks for checking in with me. I’m glad to be lucid again. I’m glad to be in your life. I’m glad to be here.
_____________________

PS I’m currently doing a series of photos and Ramadan facts on Instagram (paminthesand), Twitter (@paminthesand) and FB in case you’d like to learn a few more details about it. Look me up! Let’s be social media pals!

Hafla Kabeera (Big Party)

Some fun after the workshop.
Out of respect, we blurred their faces.

I’m on what I call a “Union Break.” This means that I have completed a list of tasks that I had set for myself and am now sitting directly under the A/C in our bedroom cooling down with an iced beverage. (I’ll let you guess what that might be.)

Annnnnnyway, it’s been quite the week. Tuesday we concluded a training session with teachers in a village across the Nile. They liked it so much that they asked us to start a different workshop next Tuesday. So…here we go. But inbetween they invited us to come to their Kindergarten Graduation and Party on Thursday night. Of course, we agreed. We love hanging out with them in these special moments.

Adorable.

Two of our Egyptian friends picked us up and we headed to the ceremony arriving at around 8:15 pm. Yes, you read that right. And guess what? We were early! The graduation was being held in the “Association Building” which looked like it could hold 300 people in chairs and hundreds of others along the sides and hanging off of the second tier. 

As soon as we walked into the sea of people, the “waters” began to part and all eyes were turned on us. I try to keep myself calm in these moments and say inwardly, “Smile and wave, Pam. Smile and wave.”  We tried to stand along the sides to wait for the festivities to begin, but the teachers there would have none of it. The headmistress greeted us and ordered 4 chairs be brought out and put in the front row. We thanked her and then asked if we could move them to the side so that the mothers who had shown up early for good seats would not actually follow through with the murder in their eyes. (Mothers of preschoolers with video cameras are the same everywhere…DON’T BLOCK MY VIEW OF WOO-WOO!) The headmistress obliged and we exhaled.

This is the Paparazzi crowd...

Some came to greet us, but many of the mothers were giving their children the final primping before sending them up on stage. The headmistress returned with a small fold up table which she placed in front of our chairs. She smiled as she saw the puzzled looks on our faces. Next came another woman who had a satin tablecloth. After she put that down, still another woman arrived with 2 trays of sweets and drinks. 

Now we are in social purgatory. They brought us their very best cakes and even put it on China. They expect us to start eating…which wouldn’t be a bad thing except that there are around 200 pairs of eyes looking at the cake and then at us…then back at the cake. The rest of the crowd doesn’t get their celebratory cake until after the program. What to do? What to do?

Our Egyptian friend who is a beautiful woman and great friend of the villagers picked up the plate, shrugged and started eating. We laughed as we said how good we had been on our diet up until now.

Oh, the Sugar Humanity!

The program finally started complete with special lighting and DJ. The principal of the school opened with a reading from the Q’ran and a blessing. The adorable kindergartners then came up in groups of 2 and 3 to recite various poems, songs and portions of the Q’ran. The DJ believed that our village across the river needed to hear the program too so he had all speakers at full capacity. My ears are still ringing.

After the recitations, a cartoon character named Karumbo came to greet the children and presented them each with a gift. He then stood with the children holding their kindergarten graduation certificates. They looked adorable in their miniature caps and gowns.

This is Karumbo. Now you know.

The headmistress then presented gifts to each of the teachers and the parents clapped in appreciation. As I looked around the courtyard, I surmised that we might have broken a village record for most bodies in a confined location…but no one seemed to care.

Our friend gave us the nod and told us that it was time for us to go. She explained later that the party would continue until 1 or 2 am in the morning and that she had another meeting to attend. As we departed, some of the teachers from our workshop hugged us and told us that they would see us next week. I smiled and told them I would see them then. One said in her best English, “I. will. see. you. later. Teacher!” She was very deliberate, but she got it just right. I responded in Arabic and she laughed. (I hope that was a good laugh.)

After a slow start to our morning, we kicked into gear today to prepare for some college guys coming our way tomorrow. For John, that means organizing a schedule, arranging transport, locating housing.  For me, it means to cook lots and lots of food and keep it coming. So far I’ve made African Curry, prepared the toppings, brownies, pumpkin bread, banana chocolate chip muffins, washed and cut up the vegetables, prepared the fruit, made the welcome baskets and realized I forgot about 5 things that I’ll need to pick up before noon tomorrow. Whew! 

This guy was just too cute.

We love company, but we have to pace ourselves and our guests during the summer months. You can fry your brain pretty quickly here in the desert before you even know what’s happening. That’s why our local friends hold all their events at night. Smart. Still there are some things here best seen during the day, so we’ll do our best to keep all visiting friends hydrated thus preventing camel-jerky syndrome. (I just made this up but you can imagine.)

You may not hear from us for a few days. We’ll want to give our guests our full attention. Thanks for visiting with me during my break. Now onto my next glamorous task…(drumroll)…UNDERWEAR FOLDING! Well…maybe one more refill.

Village People

I know from the title of the post that you’ll now be humming “THE SONG” through the rest of the reading. Sorry. Not sorry. :)

Tonight marks the third and final session of the teacher training workshop that John and I have been teaching in a Nubian village just across the river (The Nile, that is). It’s been a good group. We’ve averaged 12-15 women who are teachers and moms interested in building foundations for reading among young children. To put it in their words, “How to Teach A, B, Cs.”

We are holding the workshop inside the village elementary school. The room we’re using has a side that is open to the elements. We knew that we would be teaching in a variety of locations and environments so when we purchased our projector we tried to think through all the scenarios. Will it be bright enough to show up in daylight? Is it small enough to transport? Does the bulb cost a fortune to replace? One question we DIDN’T think to ask is, “If the temp is 110º what will happen to the projector?” Well, the answer is that as soon as you turn it on it will flash “overheating.” No joke. Now we’re trying to think of a way to keep it cool while not electrocuting ourselves…We’ll keep you posted. Any of you engineering types that have a quick answer…send it. Help a sister out!

Twinkies, water  and juice boxes for us on a silver tray!

The first session only 2 women were present when we arrived. Once we were there and they actually believed we were coming, one got on her cellphone and began calling the others. Soon they arrived and we were able to start reasonably on time. The second session we arrived and the group was already there sitting on the benches waiting for us. (That brings joy to ANY teacher’s heart!)

This last session is really a 2-parter. Tonight we will finish up the concepts we have to present followed by a variety of learning activities where we will all participate together. Then on Thursday they’ve invited us back for the End of School Year Village Party. All the families from the village will be there to celebrate. It’s quite an honor and one we’ll gladly attend.

I’ve even been invited to the engagement party of one of the teachers, but that doesn’t happen until October. However, she made me promise that I’d come. They are a fun group and when I visit with them during breaks they tell me about their lives, their families. We even joked together as they asked if I had any sons they could meet. 

It’s a privilege to be included and we take every opportunity seriously. Open doors come and go. We want to make the most of the time while we have it. Speaking of… we are currently talking with some Desert Sands* headmasters who have agreed to come to our location for a training conference. Please pray with us that all the details and logistics would come together. This is a first step in testing the waters for our return to Desert Sands. So we seize the moments we have now with those the Lord puts in our path here and also continue to walk in faith believing for those in Desert Sands.

Sing with me, "It's fun to teach all the A---B---C---Ds!" (To the tune of "YMCA", of course!)

*Send me your email if you would like to hear more about Desert Sands...

Our local friend helping us with translation...
Educational terms are difficult in any language!