Something More Creative Later

Well so I have been here two weeks, exactly.  I know this because I mark it in my diary.  Not a journal.

So much has happened.  Oddly, we were making a point of dwelling on the Lord this Saturday, actually having a real Sabbath, which is something that I am not the best at practicing, when the good Phillip Harder runs into to my room and tells me that it is flooding.

Let me explain this as best I can.  There is an extremely small pondish thing off the side of the street dividing our compound–that is where the rain goes.  It would take a season of killer rain to make that thing flood.  So I what somewhat shocked when I heard Phillip.  Turns out, there is a little levy that runs alongside the compound.  I promise, I’ve never seen the river, but apparently the levy had a break, and soon much of the compound grounds were flooded.

I couldn’t help much.  I wanted to, but the water is hazardous for my supple Americanness, and so I did the best I could.  Obeyed and evacuated.  For three days we slept on lopsided cots and swapped manly stories, because now I didn’t just have one roommate, but instead 12.  A slight change, you know how it is.

So the now the water has receded (I honestly don’t know where it went) and we have returned to the closest thing I have to home, and I love it.  I can barely tell the water was here.

Other things: the work I am doing here is not always very effective.  I have learned to be content,  although this is sometimes…okay most of the time, difficult.  But I’m learning.  Anyhow, we travel one hour to the site.  We may work for an hour and a half.  Then we leave.  Mainly we talk to people that once lived on the streets, and whereas this is good, it doesn’t feel like much is happening.  So please pray that God would guide our group into effectiveness.  Even as I type that, I know it is a strange prayer.

Also, I have had a coffee ceremony, which was SWEET.  It is cultural, and I will explain it some other time.  Also, I still haven’t gotten sick.  Many dear friends have fallen to strange bowels, and that is explicit as I will get.  But know still fly high above all that murkiness.

God has shown me so much here.  I saw some kids playing soccer in the middle of a construction site with a half-deflated ball.  But they didn’t mind.

Another time, a woman crossed the road with shoes on her hand because her foot is deformed.

I got to explain the civil rights movement to a bunch of seminary students.  And they thanked me like I had given them a hundred dollars.  For simply explaining American history.  I don’t deserve moments like that.

I have also played in a two man band called BCF (Big Courageous Fernjis).  Our song Dry Mouth, Dry Heart was a smash hit.  You should hear it on the American airwaves soon.  Also noteworthy, I heard a Shakira song on the radio, Hips don’t lie, except there was an African verse thrown in the mix.  Weird.

My Ethiopian friends are so helpful.  They look out for us Americans all the time.  Hey, they even help us across the street.  I can’t how many times I have had a guiding hand on my back.  Sweet I know, but it does get frustrating sometimes.  So now us Americans sometimes joke with each other and guide each other across the street as well.  That is how we party.

My roommate and I shared a couple arguments as of now, but they have been minor and strange, and too personal to share here, as much as they make me laugh.  But for the most part we are good buds, and we laugh often, and then I tickle him, and then he gets annoyed, and then we go to Bible Study together, and he reads the Bible differently than me, which lets me debate, and if you know me then you know this is a gravy train for me.  Also, he is going to take me to his house sometime, which I am stoked about.

Once again, I don’t know how I sound in this blitz of a blog.  I won’t check it over, so ignore the mistakes, or else you are just hurting my feelings, and we don’t want that.