Tribes, Truces and Trousseaus

It's Day 3 of a 3-Day truce between fighting tribes here in our city.  Yesterday, John and I were given the "all clear" by our local friends to walk through town and teach an English class.  As we were walking along the main road, sirens began blaring and a long procession of SUVs with dark-tinted windows passed, followed by armored vehicles with military personnel brimming over.

The "parade" lasted only a few seconds but the vibe on the street definitely changed.  Citizens paused to see where the caravan went.  They began talking to one another.  We weren't sure what to do next.  I looked at John and said, "Well…what do you think?"  No one was scurrying so we took that as a good sign.  We proceeded to our appointment without incident.

After our class, one of our friends asked if we had phone service. We checked and did not.  We had different carriers so we wondered it if were a city-wide problem.  It was.  We discovered later that the government had shut down the phones for a 2-hour period as the military made a sweep through particular neighborhoods for suspects and weapons (at least that's the word on the street and Twitter).

Phone service was restored and nothing really seemed to come of the earlier events.  Life continued on.  Our friend, Musa*, is planning a boat trip with Australians today.  I asked if they were concerned about the security situation here.  He laughed and said, "No.  Australians and New Zealanders never care about that.  They come anyway."  I guess Crocodile Dundee mentality runs deep there.

I'm not sure how the next few days will progress with the exception that in all this Jesus sees and knows the hearts of every person.  We are encouraging our local friends and  I continue to make plans for our daughter's upcoming college graduation and soon-following wedding.  A wonderful friend of mine wrote and said,  "Can you imagine the stories you'll have to tell your grandchildren from this time?"

Yes, it will be quite the story. 

_____________________

*Not his real name.

Another "Snow Day"

Today's a political "snow day" for us.  On Friday, what seemed to be a skirmish between high school students turned into a tribal feud that has continued through today.  We've read various accounts of why and who, but it still remains a bit unclear.

We do know that the clashes are between two tribes, one Nubian and the other Arab.  These tribes have deep roots of resentment that stem from the Nubian forced relocation (by Arabs) in the 1960s from a near-Nile residence to a more desert terrain.  

Yesterday we received 2 calls and 1 visit from our local friends updating us on the city happenings. They also included warnings for us to stay in.  You see, we live in a Nubian village.  As of yesterday, the villagers placed a checkpoint at the front of the village so that they could control who comes in and out.  The threats between tribes still continue.  The police have been onsite, then off, then on again.  

Egypt in general continues to have country-wide problems and a localized one such as this just creates more instability. The army arrived yesterday via helicopters and armored trucks and are now scattered throughout the area.

I'm shocked sometimes at myself at how "normal" such a heavy military presence seems to me.  I try to imagine what my reaction would be if I saw the same thing in our hometown in the U.S.  I can't.  Yet here it's become a part of every day life.  

We purchased groceries on Saturday not knowing all that was transpiring just a few short blocks away.  Now we pray and wait for the "all clear" from our friends.  There's no immediate threat to us.  We just don't want to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Much of what is being discussed is that both groups want justice.  However, justice has very different meanings depending on the group you are talking to… So it's with much love for these dear people that we pray for Jesus to reveal Himself to them so that true justice and mercy can be applied in only the way the heart can really understand.

"Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you,

    and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you.

For the Lord is a God of justice;

    blessed are all those who wait for him."

Isaiah 30:18

Haboob

Life is never dull in our sandy city.  This week we experienced a series of wind storms called haboob.  Funny name, I know.  They aren't like the ones in Sudan where you would see a wall of sand coming your way and you knew to run for cover.  They are more subtle here.  The sky turns from blue to a light brown, the wind kicks up and next thing you know you are right in the middle of it.

We were with some friends taking an afternoon boat ride when the haboob hit.  I had my sunglasses with me (thankfully) so as to avoid all of the sand pelting my eyes.  My skin has never looked fresher.  The point of the trip was to visit a Nubian village and eat lunch.  By the time we arrived, I had a tan complexion.  So did my other boat mates.  We were covered.  We brushed ourselves off as best we could and had a lovely time.

The dust continued for another day which means our home had a thin layer of dust on everything.  Nothing is sealed here so even with everything closed, dust still finds it's way in.  So do ants, but that's another story.

We received word that elections should be coming soon here and to remain "vigilant" when walking out and about.  (That's the word the U.S. Embassy uses when issuing it's weekly updates.)  If you ask 10 different people on the street about the elections, you will hear 10 different opinions.  We try to remain apolitical through it all because 1) it's a two-edged sword and 2) political reform is not the point of our presence.  So we do a lot of listening, asking questions and trying to understand.

One such discussion was with a local man in our village who is extremely sharp.  He speaks at least 5 languages and is well-versed in just about everything.  He dropped by our home one evening and discussed his latest project.  We discussed the sandstorms, the elections and his current work.  Soon he took his leave and said that he and his wife would come back next week.  

Yesterday he returned but without his wife.  He explained that she is expecting their first child and was experiencing trouble.  The doctor ordered bed rest and that is where she was.  We listened as he poured his heart out about their worries and his wife's concern.  John listened as I served tea.  We sipped and discussed until he changed the topic.  At the end of his visit, I presented him with a bag of items for his wife to relax.  I had included a bottle of Bath & Bodyworks bath gel, lip gloss and a Yankee candle.  (Any woman anywhere would like that…)  I included a note telling her that we were praying for her.

As he began to leave, John asked if we could pray for him and his wife.  Our friend agreed.  After, he hugged John and paused.  Then he hugged him again.  He was visibly moved.  He later sent an email thanking us for the gifts and for the prayer.  

So while the "big things" in the country are happening, "big things" of the heart are taking place as well.  While God firmly has a handle on world events, I also believe He is fully aware of individual events…caring, moving.  Allowing us to demonstrate the "personalness" of God is our greatest privilege.  The wind is shifting…subtly, sometimes imperceptibly but knowing that just like a haboob, we find ourselves in the middle of what God is doing.  So great.

House Calls

Last night my friend, Sarah* (a nurse), asked if I wanted to walk with her to drop off some ironing at the local mahkwahgee (uh…ironing guy).  I agreed and we headed out around 7.  We dropped off the stuff and greeted the women sitting on a stoop next door.  They smiled warmly and began to chat.  Sarah asked if one of her friends were there so she could check on her.  After a few tries through various Arabic phrases and gestures, we discovered the friend was not at home but traveling.  We bid them goodbye and made our way back toward the house.

We stopped at the neighborhood dukan (small store) and said hello to our friend.  She's the proprietor and is there all hours of the day and night.  If I understand correctly, the woman has 17 children.  That is NOT a type-o.  17.  Zowee.  I might stay at the quiet dukan myself.  One of her teenage daughters was also present so we stopped and visited inquiring about their family (as is customary here).

By now a small squadron of children had gathered around us.  One as tiny as two came running up to us and yelling, "'ello!  'ello!  'ello!" and sticking out his hand.  I shook it and said "hello" back.  Some of the kids were content just watching us and listening to our attempts at Arabic.  Others were requesting "helawa" or "bon boni."  (These are both words for "candy", with the first being Arabic and the other French.)  We told them that we did not have any and soon they lost interest.

We rounded the corner and greeted a group of ladies ranging in ages from 12 to 80 (guessing).  I hadn't seen some of them before so we had just a brief interchange.  I looked around and noticed that Sarah was missing.  The ladies pointed toward one of the doors and said she had gone inside.  I knocked and tiptoed around the corner.

Sarah wanted to check on a lady who was expecting a baby and had been given strict orders for bed rest.  The woman motioned for us to sit so we sat opposite each other on additional beds.  She began to tell Sarah how she was feeling.  One of her daughters came in and offered us tea.  We thanked her and told her that we appreciated it but wouldn't need any today.  She ignored us and brought it anyway.  Sarah reiterated to the mother that she must rest so the baby could be healthy.  Her other daughters now entered the room and shook their heads no.  Basically, if mama can't get up, then who's going to cook?!  An age old question in ANY culture.

We had one last stop near our home.  One of the grandmas of the village had been having back pain.  Sarah had taken the woman a bag of frozen peas to apply to her back.  (Sarah thought this might be better received than telling the lady to use an icepack.  They have many superstitions about ice.)  The lady had been using it, but to no avail.  She pulled out her bag of medications and handed them to Sarah.  Sarah reviewed them and told her that she was on the right track.  

As we prepared to leave, the grandma started to walk toward her dulab (closet).  She said, "Before you go, I will give you perfume."  (Oh, no!  NOT the perfume!  This stuff is like no other perfume.  It not only goes on your skin, but in your pores, deep in your cells and won't go away.)  We smiled and told her there wasn't any need.  We were happy to see her.  She ignored us and pulled out the bottle.  She began spraying us both on the hair, the hands, the neck, the front, over the back and in the face.  She laughed and said, "NOW you can go."

We laughed with her and took our new smelly selves toward the house.  I walked in and John said, "Oh, you must have been out visiting!"  Yes, yes indeed.

House calls.  They take time and effort, but are so valuable to catching glimpses into people's lives.  My friend, Sarah, is amazing.  She calls them by name and continues to follow up.  We pray for them each day. Shwyya bil shwyya (little by little).  Thankful…

*Not her real name

Pam Speaks

Yesterday was a first of sorts.  I was the speaker at our little international church.  The pastor would be away on the weekend and needed someone to fill in.  I was reticent because I wasn't sure the position his organization took on females teaching.  I subtly inquired of his wife to which she said, "We have NO problem at all.  AT ALL."  Next thing you know, I'm in.

All week I had been contemplating which passage to teach.  Lightning bolts don't seem to be how God communicates with me.  Rather I have to do something hard…sit still and listen.  I finally settled on an account found in 2 Kings 18.  It describes the scenario of Hezekiah (King of Judah) trying how best to defend his country as the barbaric Assyrian army approached.  Sennacharib (King of Assyria) even mocked Hezekiah (and God) by sending him a letter of insults.

Hezekiah took the letter and placed it on the altar before the Lord and prayed, "Won't you defend Your Name?"  Well…fast forward.  God heard Hezekiah's prayer and did indeed save Judah as a witness to all other nations.

By the time Sunday came, I had read through this story many times.  I love history, but I am also aware that if I recount something from the Bible, I had better get my facts straight which isn't the easiest because there are a lot of "-ites" listed…Edomites, Moabites, etc.  I took copious notes, rehearsed my delivery to John and asked the Lord to speak through His feeble servant.

We arrived a bit early for setup.  I had a couple funny introductory photos/video to show and John was on keyboard.  People began to trickle in.  First a German couple arrived who were visiting the city for a couple of weeks.  We chatted for a bit and then they asked, "Why is this service no longer in German?"  I paused.  Um….not sure.  I'm now going through my vocabulary Rolodex in my brain trying to think of any German words I could incorporate into the sermon.  Gudentacht, nein, Fahrvergnügen…I'll keep thinking…

Others rolled in and the service started.  After we sang some songs together, the pastor (who was back from his trip) nodded to me.  Oh…me?  Now?  Okay.  Going up.

I took my Bible with my notes and looked up at the audience.  Today's group was nearly double.  I saw folks from Germany, Canada, America, Egypt, Holland and a Chinese group who wandered in.

I swallowed and had a conversation with myself:

"Start talking."
"Don't talk too fast.  These are second language English speakers."
"Don't use advanced vocabulary."
"Slow down."
"I wonder if they'll get my jokes."
"I wonder if they'll understand any of it at all."

I shook myself, said a prayer and jumped in.  The funny photos of "Why Women Live Longer" (see below) were received with stares, disbelief and a couple chuckles.  As Johnny Carson would said, "Oooooo, Bomb-O!"  However, when I showed the video of "Women Parking" the audience perked right up laughing out loud.  (That translates in ANY language.)

Things were rolling along fairly well when I noticed some low murmuring on my left.  At first I just thought someone was making a comment, but it continued.  Finally, I realized that someone was translating from English to German.  

Don't get rattled, Pam.  Keep going.

I have spoken in various venues so distractions usually don't affect me too much.  Today was different.  Today there were many variables happening at once.  My largely German audience didn't give me the feedback I'm accustomed to.  Rather they looked like my Grandma Belle (also German) who had just received the best news of her life.  Straight face with a barely a hint of a smile.

A couple times I felt as though something significant was happening.  I could sense the Lord working.  As I wrapped up with 4 observations (Thank you, Pastor Lindell!), John began to play softly in the background.  I'm telling you, if ever there were an amazing man…John Morton is it.  He's intuitive, gracious and my biggest advocate.  

I prayed, then John and a guitarist closed with a song.  When I looked around again, the Chinese group had slipped out.

Following, I received some kind words which any speaker would appreciate.  While others adopted the "If you can't say something nice…" philosophy or rather "If you can't understand a word she said…"

But I'm grateful.  Grateful for gracious people who have welcomed us in this season of our lives who allow us to grow and participate.  

So I'll close with the same prayer I did on Sunday (sort of):

"May God grant you not 8 but nein blessings this week.  

May your troubles from Fahrvergnügen 

and your times always be gudentacht."

The Cavewoman Diet, Day 30: Celebrate Good Times C'Mon!

Celebrate good times, c'mon!

It's Day 30 of the WHOLE30 Challenge and we are celebrating good times.  John and I promptly weighed ourselves and discovered that we each lost 12 pounds.  Those are amazing results although I would ALWAYS prefer Biggest Loser numbers, but we all know that is time-lapsed filming.

We forgot to measure ourselves at the start so I don't have that all-important "Look how many inches I lost!" proclamation.  Rats.  

Pretty much once we hit Day 20 this become old hat to us.  I no longer imagined a breakfast laden with pancakes or an afternoon on the patio with an ice cold Diet Coke.  Those are mere vapors in my memory…okay, mostly.

We do feel good and like the slimming effect on our faces.  (Although with my genetic chipmunk cheeks I will be positively gaunt before anyone will notice.) Our landlady must have heard about us because she sent down a bowl of strawberries to us rather than her normal cream-laden delicacies.  Rats.  (I was hoping for a cultural "have to"…)

Friday we will commemorate our first Whole30 with one freebie of our choice.  I have selected a muffin and John has chosen soy sauce.  Wild times, I know.

Then Saturday, back on the wagon.  

Of course, I miss all things delicious but this type of discipline fits my personality.  I am not good at "eat a small bagel" type of diet.  I rationalize.  (Small compared to what?  A tire? A life preserver?) See? I can't be trusted.  

Cheers, Whole30! 

PS  Sorry we don't have before and after pictures.  I recently read that some company in China scours the internet for them so that they can print them as testimonials on their shark fin herbal products.  Not even joking.  But the real reason is…I don't like the picture.  I look frumpy.  Maybe the next 30. 

A Mosaic of Village Happenings

The local terrain...

Mosaic #1:  As John and I walked through the village on our way to town a small girl greeted us.  This is not unusual.  As she shook my hand, she placed a piece of raw animal fat in it and smiled.  I did not scream.  I believe I have earned some sort of major award for this.  

Mosaic #2:  We heard wailing one evening as if someone died, however, it did not continue.  When we inquired, we found out that the family thought the man was dead, but rather he had had a stroke.  Friends who arrived at the cemetery were relieved to find out that they were to go instead to the hospital.

Mosaic #3:  The ladies I often drink tea with viewed photos of Aria, Emileigh and Jacob (our future son-in-law).  An older woman with four teeth on the bottom smiled widely and commented that she really likes the looks of Jacob and slapped the hands of the other women around her.

Mosaic #4:  A bird pooped on my head.

Mosaic #5:  As I was walking through the market a vendor asked if I would like to look at some spices.  Another man yelled at him and said, "Leave her alone.  She lives in the village."  I smiled.

Mosaic #6:  A very old grandma kissed me on both cheeks, announced she had been vomiting all night and invited me to sit and drink tea with her.  I did.