The Egret and the Bear

Letting go of fall

2011-12-30T13:50:00.000-08:00

As expected, fall was far too short and winter is here far too soon. This fall was perfect for a birthday picnic at the National Arboretum, the mixing of new friends and old, trying out the "best new sandwich in America" (doubt it), walks involving the carrying of large sticks, and learning to feel at home here in DC. Now, to winter and a brand new year. And learning to appreciate the cold (impossible).

Summer in DC

2011-11-15T07:27:00.000-08:00

On a hot day toward the end of summer, we took a long, leisurely walk around the mall and the monuments. The tourists are in full force during the summer and into early fall, and I'm enjoying the slower pace now that the cold is imminent. But this day, they were everywhere. Tour buses lining the streets and a variety of languages floating past. People taking pictures of squirrels (who knew they were so exotic?). And I get to walk to the mall from my house. Lucky.

Anna and Greg

2011-11-01T12:06:00.000-07:00

(Map of the farm, made by Anna.)

Anna and Greg got married this summer on their farm in Maryland. When we found out we were moving to DC, we had no idea Anna would be there too. We were overjoyed when we learned that not only was Anna marrying her perfect match, Greg, but they were going to live and work just 45 minutes away from our new home.

At the reception, David gave a speech about his first interactions with Anna back in the dorms during undergrad. She would sit in her room and play an old, broken guitar, and even though it was old and broken, she could make it sound beautiful. David wished the same for their marriage- that when Greg was feeling down and broken, Anna would bring the beauty out of him. That she would make him sing.

Crushin'

2011-09-07T16:08:00.001-07:00

Last week we watched a little Boston terrier named Lucy, and Sundance was beside himself with joy. When she arrived, he spent the next hour watching her, tail wagging, while she explored the house and tried out all of his toys. One morning while I was on the computer, he jumped up on the couch and starting chewing his white plastic toy. I could hear him chewing for the next five or ten minutes, and when I looked back over I realized Lucy had completely taken over. Lucy had settled down right in front of him and was chewing his toy while he sat there watching curiously, tail still wagging. He was so amused by her, I could just imagine him saying, “You can have all of my toys. Anything. Just please say you’ll stay and play with me forever.” Followed by a deep sigh, “My parents are seriously boring.” By the way, we’ve decided Sundance’s voice is like the awkward voice-cracking teenagers from Monsters, Inc. Can't you see it?

A sabbatical, if you will

2011-09-02T13:41:00.000-07:00

Looks like I took an unplanned break from the blog. Let’s call it a sabbatical and then I won’t feel so bad. Actually, it has been a bit challenging to find bloggy inspiration in our new life in DC, which is quite a bit different from our life in Freetown. In Sierra Leone, stories were everywhere. Our days were less packed and I had more time to think and process. There are stories here too, certainly, but it is different.

Washington, DC is a beautiful city (or...district?) and it is beginning to feel like home. Shopping for fruit at Eastern Market, jogging on the mall past Lincoln and Roosevelt and MLK, growing tomatoes and peppers in my very first garden, getting to know all of the dogs in Capitol Hill (thank you, Sundance). This is a sweet place and we feel very blessed.

However, this summer has been a bit “extreme” in the weather arena. Heat waves, an earthquake, and then the hurricane this past weekend. I have to say, Irene was a bit disappointing after all the build-up. Sundance is definitely enjoying the aftermath of branches scattered about the streets- one of his favorite things is to try to carry branches larger than his entire body. One of my NOT favorite things is getting stabbed in the legs by Sundance's branches.

As a native Californian, one might imagine I wasn't too impressed with the earthquake…and one would be wrong. David and I were eating lunch outside when it happened. First, I thought it was just the large truck that passed by at that moment. After things kept shaking, I said to our friend, “Aaron, stop shaking the table!” Once I realized it was an earthquake, was there a rush of memories from years of earthquake drills in school? Crawl under the desk, cover your head, etc? Nope, not at all. Instead, “Earthquake??? WHOA! THIS IS AMAZING!”

It is September now, and a wave of fresh, crisp air is finally pushing out the humidity. We missed last fall while in Freetown, so for the past year my soul has felt like fall should be just around the corner. The other night, after David and I had said good night and started to fall asleep, I whispered in his ear excitedly, “Fall is coming soon.” Needless to say, he was a bit creeped out.

We are going camping this weekend in Shenandoah Valley- our first family camping adventure! More on that to come.

A few pics from our vacation in California:

(My sister Leslie and nephew Conor)

(View from the amazing house we rented in Sea Ranch)

(Jen, me, Dad, bro)

(Conor mesmerized by David's mustache)

(Relaxing in Sea Ranch)

(Breakfast with Meg and the Blainster)

While we were gone, Dancer had some super fun play-dates with Annie, his crush who lives upstairs. Doesn't he look sooo sad? Like he missed us soooo much?

Too cool for graduation

2011-05-29T07:23:00.001-07:00

Though I finished classes LAST May, my graduation ceremony was last week. Woo hoo! I didn't sign up to attend the ceremony since I didn't think we would be living near Baltimore (oops!), so we celebrated in our own way: tri-tip, cupcakes, and strawberry margaritas courtesy of my sweet husband. Plus, not going to the ceremony made me feel like one of those people who is way too cool for silly graduation ceremonies. I'm not, but it was fun to pretend.

Sidenote: Tri-tip is a strictly California thing. Like, people outside of California have never heard of it. This is shocking to me.

Cupcake master surpriser, at it again!

"I would like some tri-tip now, please. Thank you." Is it dumb to make up dialogue for your dog?

Thoughts on being a Californian

2011-05-17T08:25:00.000-07:00

Dog shelter employee when we adopted Sundance: "You're from California? You should have said that earlier! Yeah, you can adopt him. Californians are so laid back."

Landlord about a kale salad David made: "What is this stuff?! Seriously, Californians always know how to do the coolest stuff with greens."

Friend from church: "I could spot you guys from a mile away- tall, blond Californians."

My boss while waiting for her to finish an email: "Gosh, you're such a laid back Californian, just sitting here nicely. Don't let me take advantage of that."

New friend: "You're from San Luis Obispo? How could you leave?!"

Landlord while looking at my garden: "You planted hot peppers? That is such a California thing to do."

Neighbor: "I've never met a Californian who didn't want to ultimately end up back in California."

Introducing....

2011-05-11T04:53:00.000-07:00

The Sundance Kid!

Age: 9 months
Weight: 40 pounds
Hair: reddish-brownish (like his namesake)
Likes: socks, toys, all other dogs (especially licking their faces), tissues, my garden
Dislikes: grates, thunder, baths
Hobbies: stretching, begging, prancing, laying in strange positions, running up hills
Nicknames: Sunny, Dancer, Prancer, Dancey Pants, Sunz, Bunz, Mister, Baby Monkey
Breed: anyone's guess
Cuteness level: maximum

David at the Louvre

2011-04-30T13:26:00.001-07:00

Last few months in 15 pictures

2011-04-26T13:53:00.000-07:00

I guess it's about time I update this thing with life since Sierra Leone.

We left in early December. A day later, we arrived in London (via car, water taxi, bus and plane).

It was snowing. We didn't have winter clothes. We ate a croissant in the airport and I was pretty sure it was the most delicious thing I had ever had. Also, we looked silly.

In London, we drank cup after cup of mulled wine to warm our bodies (and hearts). Look at this cold face. We were unprepared for the winter wonderland.

We wandered around Bath for a few days, then hopped over to Paris to meet up with my Dad and Jen. I learned I was too old for hostels after a terrible night in a 12-bunk room full of 18 year old male Aussies.

We had an amazing week full of stories, exploring and food (cheese! chocolate! wine! pasta!) with the best travel buddies around. Really.

David was sporting an impressive beard.

Back in London, we hung out with our new friend Rob and his family (who are the family of Freya, our dear friend in SL). He introduced us to some excellent places (a toast and jam restaurant where you toast the bread yourself!) and we attended his Christmas choir concert.

Shortly before Christmas, we headed back to California. I finally got to meet my sweet new nephew, Conor.

In January, we moved back across the country. All of our things, BACK to the East Coast. Now we live in Washington, DC. We got a dog. We love him.

That's not him. This is Sura, his cousin. Isn't she a beauty? I'll introduce our pup more formally soon. He deserves his own post.

Great, now all caught up!

Inshallah

2011-03-31T04:58:00.000-07:00

Friends in Sierra Leone, I hope to see you again some day.

More starts

2011-03-10T13:39:00.001-08:00

I have been wanting to write about this for a long time now, but I have been hesitating. There is just too much to say, too much to convey, and these words won't really do.

I mentioned before that mental illness is a serious but largely ignored issue in Sierra Leone. I saw obvious, severe cases every day, and there are many more cases that sit just below the surface. There was a man who wandered our neighborhood, some days alert and asking for food, and other days slumped over on the side of the road and unresponsive. I would buy him bread or hand him a few plantains, ask him his name, attempt conversation. I asked people in the neighborhood if they knew him, but no one did.

In order for him to get long-term care, we would have to find his family. I asked him if he had family nearby and where they lived, and he pointed down the road. I flagged down a taxi and David and I went with him to find them. After driving all around Freetown, it became clear we weren't going to find anyone. The taxi driver told us that the man's directions didn't make sense and what we thought was Krio was actually nonsense. Perhaps his family was in a different town. Perhaps he didn't have any family left.

City of Rest, in the middle of Freetown, is the country's only mental rehabilitation facility. It is run by locals and receives no government funding. I spent a couple of hours there one afternoon, taking photos for an article and meeting the residents. City of Rest is building a new facility outside of town that will allow for more residents and more room for rest and rehabilitation. But until they raise more funds, it is filled to capacity and unable to accept more people.

The only other option is the government mental hospital. When you mention this place, everyone has a rumor to share. People chained to beds. One small meal a day. Abuse by guards. Bribes and cruelty. But, is it better than being on the street?

City of Rest is not perfect. There is no running water and there is not enough medicine. But there is love there, and diagnosis and therapy and a desire to see people healed. The staff is fighting to get the right medicines and to learn how to better treat the residents. And then there are the residents themselves, the woman who was once unable to care for herself and is now healthy and smiling. The former soldiers who have found a community and a sense of home.

No, it is not perfect, but it is a start. I think we need more starts.

Posin'

2011-03-03T04:51:00.000-08:00

Love

2011-02-14T17:29:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day xoxo

To church

2011-02-09T08:17:00.000-08:00

David and I had the chance to attend church with our friend Aaron and his family. After the service, we walked to his sister's house and were served a huge lunch. On the way, one of the little girls started singing the name Jesus over and over. She looked up at David and said, "That man looks like Jesus." Then she turned to me and said, "And you look like Mary."

Stare Down

2011-02-03T05:14:00.001-08:00

"You going to cry??"

2011-02-01T04:51:00.000-08:00

(David and Mariama, our neighbor.)

Shortly before we left Sierra Leone, we went to a place called Big Market. Apart from a few small spots along the beach, Big Market is the only permanent souvenir market in Freetown. The bottom floor is crowded with carvings, baskets, and household goods, and the top floor has stall after stall of women selling locally-made items like gara (a tie-dyed fabric) and country cloth blankets.

After a few minutes downstairs, we made our way down the aisle and up to the second floor. We stopped at quite a few stalls, loaded up on batiks, blankets, and precious outfits for the new babies in our lives, and headed back toward the stairs. A woman we hadn't talked to blocked our way and told us to come look at her stall.

"No tenki, we get already. We di go now." But the woman insisted, "You must come see my things."

David said apologetically, "Sorry, we don't need. We don't need. Next time." The woman turned to David and asked abruptly, "Are you going to cry?" We looked at each other, clearly confused.

She continued, "I don't need. I don't need. Are you going to cry??" We laughed awkwardly and walked down the stairs. It took us a moment to realize she was mocking David, to his face.

From the back of a taxi

2011-01-26T04:47:00.000-08:00

Busy busy busy

2011-01-11T14:27:00.000-08:00

David and I have been busy little bees, traveling up and down California visiting friends and family. I am feeling loved and grateful... and exhausted. I am also having a serious case of computer-aversion and just can't bring myself to write and upload pictures (AKA blog). Soon! I promise!

Here is some news in the meantime: we are moving to DC! I got a job with International Medical Corps and we are moving out there in a couple of weeks, just in time for the winter wonderland. Woop!

Thanks for being my friends. I love you all.

Alpha

2011-01-03T11:54:00.000-08:00

One morning this summer I was feeling frustrated and sad as I walked to work. I don't remember why- I was probably woken up by the bird from hell who lived right outside our bedroom window. I left the compound and had not gone 15 steps before a little boy from across the way ran up and into my arms. I picked him up, hugged him, set him back down, and watched him run back to his house. I imagined that God himself was hugging me through those little brown arms.

This hug was the beginning of a five-month hugging relationship between Alpha and me. His brother and friends would yell to him when they saw me coming. He would run out of his house or the little shop his mom owns. (One time I went to buy something from his mom and saw him by himself, stealthily climbing the shelves to reach some cookies.) I would pick him up and hug him close while he stared off, not especially interested. I would say, "Hi, Alpha," to which he would say, "Fine." "How di bodi?" I'd ask, and he would respond, "Fine." That was the extent of our conversation. I never understood what he got from this relationship, but I didn't need to know. I just hugged him and let his little heart warm mine.

Issa

2010-12-19T13:18:00.000-08:00

Issa lives next door to us and I see him when I leave my house.

"Issa, how di bodi?" I ask in the morning on my way to work, or in the evening as he watches over his family's shop or plays with his younger brother Alpha. "Fine! I am fine!" he always says, arms stretched out wide as if to say, Of course, what else would I be?

Making cassava leaf

2010-12-17T13:51:00.000-08:00

Before we left, I had Lahai teach me how to make the most classic Sierra Leonean meal: cassava leaf and rice.

The ingredients- palm oil, onion, peppers, ground leaves from the cassava plant, Maggi shrimp seasoning cube, dried fish, and a few secret flavors that I can't remember.
Grind the peppers, salt and onion.

Throw into a pot of water and add cassava leaf.
Add scary dried fish to the boiling water.

Cook until the cassava leaf turns brownish and serve with massive amounts of rice.

(Emmanuel asked me to take a picture so I wouldn't forget how much he loves cassava leaf.)

We did it!

2010-12-11T23:56:00.000-08:00

Remember how the twins usually look at me like this?
Well, we went on a mission to change that. First, we took them to the beach.
And we showed them the waves.
We got them hopped up on sugar.
We intrigued them.
We (DAVID) dunked them in the water.
And we taught them to roll in the sand.
The final result...

We did it!!!

Leaving

2010-11-30T08:11:00.000-08:00

We leave Sierra Leone tomorrow, and my mind is so scattered. I am excited for family and cheese and bread. I am ready for cold weather (maybe...) and fireplaces and cuddles. But, there is a part of me that doesn't want to leave. Part of me loves greeting my neighbors every morning and grabbing a snack from a stall on the side of the road. Going to the beach every weekend and escaping the craziness of Freetown.

I have so much more to share about Sierra Leone, so don't expect the posts to stop any time soon.

And to our family and friends, I can't wait to see you! Off to London and Paris for a few days, then home sweet home!

Kailahun field visit

2010-11-24T07:59:00.000-08:00

They said, "Send your family greetings from the field agents out in the far east of Sierra Leone!"

We spent a week in Kailahun District, way out on the eastern border of the country, attending malaria trainings for mothers. This is where the war began in the early nineties and where the rebels made their base. It has been called the "forgotten district," and burnt out houses remind you that the war wasn't so long ago. Fewer than 10 years have passed.

Getting there and away was quite the adventure- one 77 mile section took 5 hours by car. There was a spot where a couple of men were building a small bridge over a creek, and the interim bridge was a few palm trees in a row. Not exactly 4x4 worthy. As might be expected, we got stuck for two hours and nearly missed a training.

While we waited, a women walked by with a child strapped to her back. When one of the men asked how she was, she said the baby was having convulsions. She was walking to town to try to get treatment and still had miles to go. Luckily, a man with a motorcycle was helping with our car, and my coworker convinced him to take her. I watched as she unstrapped the small child and climbed onto the bike. The girl was maybe 3 years old, her hair in braids and her body limp. It was probably malaria, and she would die if she didn't get treatment soon. What do you do when your child is sick and treatment is miles away? When you don't even have money to pay for the medicine when you finally get there?

To us in the States, mosquitoes are an annoyance. They give us red marks and they make us itch, but they don't kill us. The New York Times says that mosquitoes kill more people worldwide than any other creature (though it is actually the parasite the mosquito carries, not the mosquito itself). How, with all of our knowledge and technological capacity, are people in our world still dying from mosquito bites?

Healthy

2010-11-22T01:55:00.000-08:00

His mother leads a support group for mothers in her community. She is teaching other mothers the importance of breastfeeding, how to provide adequate nutrition for their children, and how to protect their families from diseases like malaria.

Women + Men = ONE

2010-11-19T08:57:00.000-08:00

Sao and Jina

2010-11-18T01:57:00.000-08:00

One of our guards, Lahai, has twin boys. In Sierra Leone, the older twin is called "Sao" and the younger is "Jina." Sao and Jina hang out in our compound on most days, giggling and babbling outside our window. The second I step outside, they freeze and stare. I have been trying for months to get them to love me- bribing them with treats, picking them up and throwing them in the air, hugging them close, teaching them to give high fives. I have explained to Sao on many occasions that I, too, am a Sao, and therefore we have a special connection. Our first breakthrough was when I was holding Sao and he kept trying to hide from my face by burying his face is my chest. I pretended he just wanted to snuggle.

I have 2 more weeks to get them to smile. I am not giving up.

Happy, happy, happy

2010-11-15T06:33:00.000-08:00

(Dinner on the beach at Franco's.)

(Dave, Angie and Dave's mustache.)

(Freya and the birthday girl.)

(Wayne's Special. Delightful.)

(Isla and Wes from Canada.)

It was hard for me to believe it was my birthday last week, since I had never experienced a November 6 that was 85 degrees with 95% humidity. But, I was decided to believe it when I heard I might get cake.

And did I ever! Our friend Isla made me the most delicious German chocolate cake, my all-time favorite. The next day, a group of us went to River Number 2 and enjoyed a day of beach lounging and river floating. For dinner we went to Franco’s, a restaurant on the beach owned by an Italian-Sierra Leonean couple. It was a quite a fancy place before it was ransacked during the war, and you can see remnants like street lamps and dark wood railings. I had the Wayne’s Special, a cheesy pasta dish with fresh lobster that was a dream for this cheese-loving girl. (We have gotten used to Laughing Cow, the processed “cheese” triangles that are everywhere around here, but…it still sucks.)

David’s birthday was this past weekend, and he wanted to keep it low key since we had just gotten back from a week upcountry. We watched a movie at a friend’s house and ate pizza, sushi, brownies and champagne. Didn’t think you could sushi around here, did you? Well, Freetown is full of surprises. Actually, the roll we ordered was called “Gary’s Spicy Roll,” which is awesome because my twin’s name is Gary. Coincidence?!

On my birthday, I told pretty much everyone I talked to that it was my special day- my neighbors, the storekeeper down the road, our guards, the boys selling us things on the beach (birthday prices!). People were very kind about it: “Eh! I wish you many, many more!” David, on the other hand, didn’t want anybody knowing about his. That didn’t stop me from bringing it up, of course. I told our guard Michael that it was David’s birthday but he didn’t like people making a big deal about it. When Michael saw David he took his hand, looked him in the eye and said, “Happy, happy, happy.”

Give me a minute

2010-11-09T13:46:00.000-08:00

David and I are upcountry for the week, participating in a training on malaria prevention for leaders of mothers groups. I won't be able to blog for a few days- we'll be too busy not showering, getting laughed at by little kids, and eating cassava leaf.

P.S. There are over 100 bugs in our room right now (David's estimate).

Smiles

2010-11-05T07:20:00.000-07:00

(Beautiful soft blankets from "country cloth" made in the provinces.)

(A boy fills his bucket from a tap on Murray Town Road.)

(Selling French bread on the street. I request the ones on the inside...haha.)

"This girl...."

2010-11-04T03:16:00.000-07:00

Most days I walk home from work. Not only is this quicker than taking the taxis or poda podas (traffic!), it is almost always an adventure. Some days I walk in relative peace, ignoring the occasional "WHITE!" yelled out the window of a speeding poda poda or the men trying to get my attention by hissing and waving their arms.

Other days, someone (usually a male 20-30 years old) will "escort" me on my walk.

"Hello, white girl, hello. How are you?"
"Fine."
"What is your name?"
This is when I start to get weird. I don't like just anyone knowing my name, so sometimes I lie. I'll say Lizzy or Limsy or Lina, the 3 names people usually call me anyway. It is strange and probably wrong of me, but it makes me feel strong.
"Lizzy."
"Lizzy. What is your surname?"
"Wang." Kind of like Lange, but not. It just came to me. I know, I'm weird!
"Wain. Spelled W-A-I-N, not so? Do you know Lil Wayne? Like him, yes?"
"Yes." (trying not to laugh)
"You never asked my name."
"Because you are only talking to me because I am white, and I have people coming up to me everyday just because I am white." Just being honest.
"No no no, that is not the reason. I have taken a particular interest in you."
"Why? It is because I am white, isn't it?"
"Eh bo! This girl...No, not because you are white. You are special. I have taken a particular interest in you."
"You don't know me at all. All you know is that I am white."
Then he says something that reminds me that I can not go anywhere here without being noticed.
"I see you most days, but I don't talk to you because you are walking fast and look busy."
"Okay."
"So, shall we take lunch together tomorrow?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know you at all."
"But we can get to know each other. Is your family in the US?"
"Yes, but my husband is with me."
"Is he black or white?"
"White."
"Is he in the US or in Sierra Leone?" (READ: "Will he find out if we get together?")
"Sierra Leone."
"Ah, you are married. Have you given birth?"
"No."
"You are a young girl. But you promised your husband you would give birth sometime?"
"I'll have a child if I want to have a child."
"Eh! Oh, this girl..." (shakes head and laughs)
"So, you live in Lumley?"
I lie again. "Yes."
"Okay okay. So can I call you sometime?"
"No. My phone is just for work." Another lie.
"Okay, I can give you my number and you will call it."
"I won't call it."
"Why won't you call it?"
"Because I don't know you. Sorry."
"Eh bo! This girl...."

Halloween in Freetown

2010-11-01T05:35:00.000-07:00

(Marathon runner)

(A present. The paper had the word "Yippee" written all over it, which seemed pretty sarcastic without the necessary exclamation points. "Yippee." Wah wah.)

When I walked out of the house, I asked our guard Michael what he thought of my dress. He said it was very fine, and didn't seem to notice anything strange. I asked if he had heard of Halloween, and then I tried to explain the concept. "It's a holiday where people dress up like things they aren't and eat candy. I am a present." Of course. Makes perfect sense.

It was a bit of an adventure getting to our friend's Halloween party. Obviously, we didn't see anyone else dressed up until we got there. After a journey involving walking, a poda poda and a taxi, we realized David was probably the most noticeably ridiculous, since shiny dresses are not as unusual as huge white bearded men wearing shorts and tank tops (though my dress made quite the noise whenever I moved). My favorite costumes of the night? Our hosts Wes and Isla had matching local primary school uniforms made in their size (picture bright pink and maroon with checkered trim, matching maroon felt hat, tall white socks, etc.).

Want to see something scary?

Now want to see something truly frightening?

AHHHHHH!!!!!!! Spooky!!!

Almost fall

2010-10-27T02:44:00.002-07:00

(Photo taken last year during our first East Coast fall.)

It is hard to believe it is the end of October when it is 85 degrees with 90% humidity. It is getting warmer and the rain is coming less, and sometimes I completely forget what month it is. Like, it could be the middle of summer and I wouldn't know.

This morning David and I woke up early and went for a jog around the neighborhood. We left our house while it was still dark and tried our best to dodge the sleeping dogs and potholes. David said something about how there weren't as many people around as usual. I joked that maybe they all knew about a big rainstorm coming in that we didn't (this happens all the time).

Then it started to rain. "This isn't too bad. Remember that time in Costa Rica? That was way worse." Then it started to rain harder. And harder. After a few minutes, we were completely soaked. The rain pounded our bodies and the nasty gutter water overflowed onto our legs. We passed by people huddled under overhangs, wondering what the crazy white people were doing out in the storm.

And though we looked ridiculous (almost forgot to mention we were matching in black tank tops and red shorts), it was great. It felt cold, and the sky was dark and cloudy, and it felt like fall. At this point, I'll take what I can get.

Mariama

2010-10-22T06:13:00.000-07:00

Mariama lives down the street, but she has some sort of connection to my guard and so she washes her clothes in our compound. She is all of maybe 3 feet tall, but she talks like someone much older. We have had the same conversation the past two days.

Mariama: Hello!
Me: Hello, my dear. Ow di bodi?
Mariama: Fine. Where is your man?
Me: He is in the house.
Mariama: He does not work?
Me: No, he is a student.
Mariama: You go to work? And he doesn't? (Giggles)
Me: Yes, he studies at home.
Mariama: Greet him for me, yeah?
Me: Okay, I will greet him for you.

Camping at Bureh Beach

2010-10-19T02:32:00.000-07:00

(Where we slept. The water came up to that log.)

Bureh Beach, about an hour and a half from Freetown, is probably the most beautiful place I have ever been. We celebrated our friend Shane's birthday by camping out under the stars for the weekend. We surfed with the local boys at sunset, ate fresh fish and rice for dinner, shared stories around a bonfire, stared in awe at the Milky Way, swam in the rolling phosphorescent waves at 2am, and woke to the sound of the waves breaking just yards from our beds.

Curiosity

2010-10-14T03:45:00.000-07:00

Osman

2010-10-13T06:00:00.000-07:00

I was handed a letter the other day. It's from a teenage boy who lives down the street from my house. Every morning I walk past the stall where he sells cigarettes, soap, candy, etc. He sets up his stand, placing each item in the display as children pass on their way to school.

Dear Madam,

How are you? Hope everything is fine. I'm really happy and I appreciate the way you are talking to me. You make me remember some white people in my village. They were missionaries, they opened schools and churches in my village. They used to love me so much but due to the rebel war they returned back to their country. So that's why when I see you I remember them, because they promised to help but the war spoiled everything. I'm praying that Almighty God will make you succeed in anything that you are doing so that you will not forget me.

From,
Osman

The day he gave me the letter I went home and cried. I cried for all of the hopes and plans ruined by the war. I cried for the families forced to leave their homes, businesses, memories. I cried for Osman, a boy who lost everything and has now put his hope in me. Me who has nothing. Me who doesn't know how to handle the situation. I am not worthy of this.

King of the Beach

2010-10-08T07:53:00.000-07:00

Public transportation

2010-10-06T09:02:00.000-07:00

We took our own advice and got super adventurous this weekend - public transportation style. Over the course of the weekend we went to the beach twice, had lunch at our favorite restaurant, ate an amazing Indian dinner at a new friend's house, and went to a party at a mansion overlooking Lumley Beach. All without a car. Boo yeah! The weekend grand total:

- 8 taxis

- 4 ocadas (motorbikes)

- 4 private cars

- 2 poda podas (mini buses)

- 1 retired tour bus pretending to be a poda poda

Adventure

2010-10-01T06:11:00.000-07:00

There will be a time when I look back on my experience in Sierra Leone and wish for more. More interaction. More conversations. More memories. More life. I will damn the days that I laid on the bed and watched movies on the laptop, the days we spent confined by the concrete walls of our compound. The me now says, “But it is hard. We don’t have a car. We don’t know where to go. It is a challenge just to communicate. We make mistakes and we look like fools.” The me then will say, “Why did you let that stop you? There was so much to see and so much to learn. Do not be afraid. Seek out adventure! Go! Live!” And so I will try.

A compliment

2010-09-30T09:51:00.000-07:00

These sweet ladies spend their days in front of a shop in my neighborhood. They call themselves my Sierra Leone Grandmas and every time I pass I must stop for hugs, hand shakes and questions. "Ow was di work? Where is di husband? You going home now? Okay okay okay."

Yesterday was pretty normal- hugs, shakes, questions, answers, waves, etc. After I hugged one goodbye, she said, "You are looking..." and then made hand motions that looked like what I would do if I were trying to describe a football player, a bear, or something else really big and strong.

I had a confused look on my face. Her friend kindly explained, "She says you are looking fatter."

Oh, why thank you, Grandma. I would have preferred healthy or strong, but thanks anyway.

New men in my life

2010-09-29T09:18:00.000-07:00

My sister and my best friend both went off and had perfect, amazing little dudes this summer. I am so proud of them (and the dads too, of course).

Conor and Blaine, since I had to be so far away when you were born, you are not allowed to grow any more until I get back. And when I finally see you, I get to hold you the whole time and no one else gets a chance except maybe if you won't stop crying but then when you stop I get you back. And we will love each other.

Jeans shopping

2010-09-27T03:56:00.000-07:00

On Saturday we went to the market downtown for a little fabric shopping. We walked up and down the stalls, checking out the sheets of fabric, used clothes, shoes, etc., and each picked out a piece to take to a tailor.

As we were walking back toward the taxis, a teenager held up some black skinny jeans and said, "Stretchy! 35,000 (~$8)." My favorite pair of jeans ripped our first week in the country, so I wanted them. I asked, "Where can I try them?" I wasn't expecting a dressing room, but earlier I had tried on some dresses while I crouched in the back corner of a stall and the woman hid me behind some hanging clothes.

The teenager looked around and then gestured to a stall where about 6 people were sitting. This stall did not have walls and was on the corner of a street full of people and cars. He pointed to a spot that was right next to a guy shaving another man's head. Not exactly my idea of privacy. I said, "Right here? With all these people?" And he said, "Oh yes, it's fine."

I stood in the corner and slid the pants on under my skirt. This was not easy in the crazy heat and humidity, and when I finally had them on and buttoned, he cheered. The others in the stall seemed to like them too. I turned in a circle and asked everyone if they looked okay. "Oh yes, they are good. They look very fine."

I asked the teenager, "How mas?" And he said, "45,000, but I give to you for 40,000." I made the customary high pitched "Eee!" sound that people make to sound shocked at a price. "But you said 35,000 before!" "No no no 45,000. I swear it is 45,000." I looked around at my stall friends and asked if this was a fair price. One old man said, "Eh, bo!" which can't really be translated but in this case meant, "He is trying to rip off the white girl." The others shook their heads and gave us eyes that meant this kid was not being honest. The teenager looked a bit embarrassed and gave us the 35,000 price. Our stall friends were on our side and I thanked them for their help.

Side note: I will refuse a taxi and walk the whole way to work rather than have to pay 25 cents higher than the normal price. Most are very fair, but occassionally the driver will give me a higher price because many foreigners don't know how the taxis work and will just pay. I will not be fooled. One time I talked a driver down to the normal price and he laughed and said, "Eh, bo! White Girl, you are African now."

A soccer ball and school books

2010-09-23T04:31:00.000-07:00

It is hard to think of someone in a worse situation than the people in this country with mental disorders. They wander the streets, yelling at passersby or walking slowly and silently while others stare, laugh or pretend they don't exist.

After the war ended in 2002, there was funding for PTSD and a few organizations were offering services, but no one was committed to long term recovery. There is only one psychiatrist in the entire country and there is one mental health rehabilitation facility. One for a country of more than 5 million.

I spoke with a woman from the rehab facility last night, and she told me about one of her patients. He thinks the war is still happening and he talks about it constantly.

Someone told me that after the war, many NGOs focused on reuniting the former child soldiers with their families. They brought them all to big open fields, and handing each a soccer ball and school books, sent them back to their families and communities to get on with life. That was the extent of rehabilitation for most of them, these children who were stolen from their homes and made to see and do things I can't even comprehend.

Just yesterday I saw a young adult male walking slowly, aimlessly down the middle of the road. His body was bare except for a ragged pair of pants hanging loosely on his hips and dirt caking his skin. Where was he 10 years ago? Was he forced to fight? What did he see and do? What does he still see in his mind, and why will no one help?

Maybe a little too excited

2010-09-17T05:15:00.000-07:00

We got treats! We got treats!

Making fufu in Kabala

2010-09-16T08:30:00.000-07:00

Boy with a skinned knee

2010-09-09T10:55:00.000-07:00

We stopped by a community to talk with the elders about a water project to help with their high rates of diarrhea and malnutrition. They pulled up wooden benches and I sat and listened while they discussed in Krio. A group of kids gathered around, giggling at me and tentatively touching my hair.

Just across from me, a little boy of about 2 years fell and scraped his knee. His hair was patchy and discolored and his stomach distended. He started crying, but the adults were talking and no one paid him attention. He sat down on a tree root, holding his knee with moist eyes and his face in a frown. Minutes later he was still upset and I watched as he rubbed his knee and wiped it with his shirt.

I know it is strange, but I was glad he was upset. I was glad because his crying and his frowning showed me that the pain in his life wasn't so bad that he didn't feel it anymore. His sadness showed me that at 2 years old, he hadn't given up.

The sequence

2010-09-09T10:21:00.000-07:00

After a while of talking, I ask, "May I snap your picture?"
They pose.

I show them the picture I just took.

Alone in Kabala

2010-09-07T08:19:00.000-07:00

I spent last week in Kabala, a small town near Guinea where the air is fresh and the houses back up to ragged green hills. In the morning I would sit on the banister of the porch, sipping sugary black tea and looking out on the hills. Women were making breakfast over fires and I watched as the smoke swirled up to the sky.

There was no electricity, no television and no internet. At nighttime, I occupied myself by reading by flashlight and eating Skittles. When I finished my book with two nights still remaining, I had to get creative. So, I made bedroom art.

Like a baby deer

2010-08-31T09:05:00.000-07:00

I miss anonymity. In this place, I am strange. A likable strange, certainly, but so abnormal that I cannot go anywhere without being bombarded by comments. "White girl!" "Where you from?" "I want to be your friend. Can I get your line?" "Take me to America with you." "I love you." I am tired of being noticed, studied, watched. I want to sit under a tree, look up at the hills, and not feel staring eyes.

When I was young I played softball, and my mom used to say I looked like a baby deer running the bases. Legs too long, awkward, likely to slip and fall at any moment.

That is how I feel here. Like everyone is watching as I walk around awkwardly, just about to fall.

Damba Road Championship

2010-08-30T02:49:00.000-07:00

The other day we received a formal, hand-written invitation to attend the Damba Road Under-12 Football Championship. The field is close enough that balls hit our house multiple times each day. One time a stray ball broke a window, and our guard brought the terrified boys to apologize to David. So, it was only right that they made us guests of honor at the final match.

My favorite part was listening to the announcers, older neighborhood boys who would take turns on the microphone and then make fun of each other's comments. "Usman has the ball. What are you going to do? What can you do? Oh! The ball was dispossessed by Usman. As we know, what goes up must surely come down. Now Alpha, what can you do?"

The island

2010-08-27T03:47:00.000-07:00

We had no idea where we were going when we drove out of Freetown. We had coffee while we waited for the others to arrive, then we headed through the hills, out of town, toward the beach. It wasn't 10 minutes before we were on a mountain road looking down at a waterfall gushing through the jungle. They used to bring tourists groups to see the waterfall and hike through the hills. That was before the war.

We drove for an hour and a half, past schools and houses and through a fishing community at the water's edge. A mosque stood tall above the houses, its spires silohuetted against a background of morning sky and the sea. We turned left and were stopped by a rope suspended a few feet off the ground. Our friend nodded at the hut to the side of the road, and the man holding the rope gave some slack so we could pass. It began to rain and the deep green hills were covered in mist.

Finally, we arrived at a small road carved out of the jungle. We followed the road until it ended at a cottage among the palm trees. The patio looked out on a perfect stretch of beach with an island in the distance. A boy walked up carrying barracuda caught that morning, and a group of women prepared it for lunch. One of the locals swam out and brought back some oysters which we ate raw. We drank wine and champagne and looked out at the waves.

The rain did not stop the entire day. After spending a few leisurely hours on the patio, a few of us walked out to the water and headed for the island. David said he would rather just play in the waves, so being the nice wife I am, I said I was swimming there whether or not he was coming. I knew that would get him. So, we swam to the island in the rain.

It was incredible, looking forward at the island and looking back at the foggy, mountainous mainland. It was one of those timeless moments, a moment you feel God designed for you and could never be recreated. A moment when you know you are in the right place and things will be okay. I stood up on the rocks, looked around, exhaled a deep breath, and thanked God for bringing me somewhere so full of beauty.

Neighbors

2010-08-23T10:13:00.000-07:00

David's blog

2010-08-18T08:29:00.000-07:00

True story over here at David's blog. BTW, did you know the little monkey had a blog? The secret is out. He's pretty cool.

Always fine

2010-08-13T11:17:00.000-07:00

I am sitting in an office on the second floor. My seat is a white plastic chair and the room has windows on 3 walls. I can see palm trees just outside and I can see the ocean over the tops of the buildings. It is starting to get dark outside and the sunlight has softened to gold. There is a church next door where hundred have gathered to sing and dance. It sounds like they are in the room with us.

In a few minutes I will walk outside and hope that the rain holds off until I get home. I will walk down the street to the road where the taxis come, past the stalls selling laundry soap and bread and past the teenage boys washing cars. I will stick out my hand when a taxi passes, say "Murray Town Junction" to the driver, and wait to see whether he will take me. If he does, I will cram into the taxi for the 10 minute ride. People with buckets full of items for sale will come up to the window and try to get my attention. I will smile and shake my head.

The taxi will let me off at the junction and I will head down the road to my neighborhood. I will pass the soccer field with the crowd of spectators and I will look up at the people watching from the roofs of their houses. The smell of chicken and goat skewers will mix with the smell of dirt and rain. "White Girl!" people will say as I pass, and I will turn and smile. A few kids will run up and touch my arm, but most will just yell and wave.

I will turn onto my street, avoiding puddles and stray dogs. The woman who is always sitting on her porch, a baby in her arms, will call out to me and I will ask her about her day. Another woman on the bench will speak to me in Krio and laugh when I try to answer. Di bodi is fine. Work is fine. Di night is fine. Everything is fine.

I will knock on my gate and one of the guards will let me in. Again, the exchange of fines. It is always fine here.

I passed! I passed!

2010-08-06T08:11:00.000-07:00

(The cohort, jumping for joy right after the tested ended.)

I passed my comprehensive exams, and that means I am almost officially done with my masters degree! I am relieved, excited, and exhausted just thinking back on that horrible, horrible test day back in early June.

Classes ended in May and we had a week and a half to study for the exam. All year people had been telling us that we should start studying early, but that was impossible while trying to finish 4th term classes, plan our MHS presentation requirements, arrange our practicums, etc.

A few of us formed a group for some hard-core studying the week of the test. We loaded up on Trader Joes snacks and spent some 10 hour days going through our courses, quizzing each other with the questions we just KNEW would be asked, and trying to calculate the probably that we would actually fail (low, I insisted).

The test itself was from 8:30am until 6pm, with a calculations/ short answer portion followed by two long essays. We got there early to get good computers in the back row of the lab, loaded with snacks and well wishes, our bodies tense from stress. To fail meant having to return to Baltimore to take it again in six months, not to mention the embarrassment.

Despite the fact that my group had emphasized the exact wrong things and the calculation questions were structured in ways we had never seen, I managed to improvise some answers for the first half of the test. I started on the first essay, and had spent almost 2 hours on it when my computer froze. “No big deal,” I thought, “I’ll just go down to the IT guys and have them help me.” The IT guys were busy, so I went to the proctor’s office to let him know that my computer was frozen. He didn’t seem to understand why I was there. “So…I’m just hoping I don’t lose the essay.” He replied, “Yeah, me too.” Thanks for your help.

After about 15 minutes (of precious test time) the IT guy came to the computer lab. He played around for a minute, then came to his conclusion.

“The computer is frozen and you will lose the document.”
“Isn’t there the chance the computer will recover it?”
“No. Not on these computers.”
“Is there anything you can do?”
“No. How much have you done?”
“Uh… a lot? What do you mean?”
“HOW MUCH HAVE YOU DONE?” This guy talked so loud, at this point everyone in the lab was aware of what was happening. I felt people looking at me, watching how I would react to this news. Mieko handed me her iPhone so I could take a picture of the screen, and other people asked how they could help. I stood against the back wall, trying really hard not to cry.

“I’ll restart the computer.”
“Okay,” I replied shakily.
“Here is the document. Some of it is recovered.”
“Okay. Thanks.” This guy had played with my emotions too much, and I left the room to go cry in the bathroom.

I finished the test and submitted it with 4 minutes to spare. Then we headed to a restaurant for a stiff drink.

True humanitarian

2010-08-05T10:02:00.000-07:00

A coworker passed away last week after spending four decades with the organization. I did not get the chance to know him, but I wish I had. BBC news reports called him a “legendary humanitarian” and the news spread quickly throughout the country. At one point, he was the only expat left in Freetown during the civil war. He risked his life on many occasions, standing up to armed combatants and hiding men in his house, delivering food to displaced people and taking tea while bullets passed overhead.

His funeral was attended by hundreds of people, almost all of them Sierra Leonean. Scattered throughout the crowd were pockets of color, reds here, green and blues over there. They were the boys he coached and encouraged, the boys to whom he had given so much of his life. Over 40 of soccer players he mentored are now playing professionally in Europe or on the national team.

The day after it happened, my taxi driver dropped me off at the office and asked what the black banners were for. I told him about his passing, and my driver let out a groan and covered his heart with his hand. “He was a father to all of Sierra Leone,” he said.

Read more about him here and here and here.

Local food

2010-08-03T10:31:00.000-07:00

Typical meal: cassava leaves or potato leaves or crain crain sauce, all with meat inside, served with rice and a soda. $2. Delicious.

First month

2010-07-30T03:49:00.000-07:00

What I have learned about Sierra Leone this past month:

Hissing is a completely appropriate way to get someone's attention.
Don't be offended when people yell "White Girl!" or "Chinese!" when you pass.
There are two kinds of mangoes, the little green ones and the big ones from Guinea. The big ones are amazing.
"Pancakes" are little fried balls that taste like donuts.
Even dishes that sound vegetarian on the menu will invariably contain beef, chicken and fish, combined.
Capital Radio (104.9) is the best radio station ever.
Don't forget to wipe your mouth after eating "rice and sauce," or you will have orange palm oil all over your face.
Dunkin' Donuts coffee is cheaper than instant Nescafe.
The rainy season is winter, and people will be wearing wool hats and coats despite the fact that it is 75 degrees out.
The grocery stores have a lot of familiar products but they all taste a little funky, probably the result of long periods of transport and storage. Exception: Cadbury Royal Dark Chocolate bars.
If a shared taxi tries to charge you 5,000 Leones, it is ripping you off. An effective response is, "Ehhh?? I pay 900 every time," while threatening to get out of the moving taxi. 900 Leones= 25 cents.
Don't be creeped out when people walk up and say, "I love you. I want to be your friend." They are just being friendly.

One life

2010-07-27T11:01:00.000-07:00

He sat on the side of the road at the roundabout, listless and still. His shirt hung off his impossibly thin shoulders and his legs stuck out straight in front of him. He had dirt dusting his shorts and face, but the first thing I noticed were his feet. Almost everyone in my neighborhood wears shoes, even the children, but his feet were worn and bare.

I stood across the roundabout waiting for my ride. I felt a pull to go to him, to ask if everything was okay and how I could help. But those seemed ridiculous questions- how could he be okay?

I walked over to where he sat, but he didn’t look up. He didn’t move at all. I felt others watch, wondering what the white girl would do. I wanted to invite him to my house, give him a shower and a change of clothes, take him to the clinic down the street and give him meals and medicine until he was better. I wanted to show him love and give him hope.

He looked to be about my age, but it was hard to tell because years of sickness and hunger had distorted his body. His bony arms, marked by avenues of protruding veins, sat lifeless at his side. I did not know what to do and I was scared. What will other people think? Will he understand me when I speak? What if he is dangerous? What if his problems are too complex for me to help?

“Here is some money,” I said under my breath as I held out a bill. He snatched it from my hand and put it in his shorts, never looking up. I continued walking and waited for the car about a block down the road. A few minutes later he stood up and walked away. Everyone he passed turned and stared. He was out of place even here, exceptionally thin in a country filled with malnutrition. I saw a mother reprimanding her son, and they stopped what they were doing to watch him walk by, slowly, jauntily.

I felt a sudden and violent pain in my stomach. I had allowed my fears to prevent me from helping this man, this human. He deserved dignity, and all I could do was hand him enough money for a meal. Am I not here to serve? Am I not here to love? Am I not here, in this world, to care for the orphans and the widows and the “least of these”? It is easy when the widow is a kind grandma who needs someone to talk to, or the orphan is a girl with braids who wants to play. What if the “least of these” is a sick, desperate man with difficult problems sitting on the side of the road?

In public health, we design programs to improve the health of populations. The malaria program I am here to work on has the potential to save, literally, thousands of lives in Sierra Leone. But, how can I ignore the one life right in front of me?

Before we left

2010-07-23T05:05:00.000-07:00

I'm going to admit something I don't want to admit. We were very homesick our first couple of weeks here in Sierra Leone, and we spent a lot of time daydreaming about what it would be like to live back in California. It is not that we didn't like it here, it's just that the time before we left was packed full of family, friends, and so much love. I keep having to remind myself that weddings and baby showers and friend reunions are special and rare occasions that will not be happening every weekend while we are gone. If they did, I'm pretty sure I would have been incapable of leaving.

College roommate reunion

Sister's perfect weddingLaughy family

Beautiful pregnant sister Beautiful pregnant best friend (who is now past due!) High school friend reunion

I am glad to be in Sierra Leone, I really am.... Just so long as all you people agree not to have any fun until we get back. Deal?

A day at the beach

2010-07-20T10:58:00.000-07:00

We spent this past Saturday at River Number 2, an amazing beach about an hour from Freetown over crazy bumpy jungle roads. Years ago the community around the beach joined together to take care of the area and make it friendly for tourists by adding bungalows, a restaurant, toilets and showers. They use the money to pay for all the kids to go to school and other community needs like funerals and weddings. When the rebels came to the area during the war, the community members buried their goods and either hid deep in the jungle or out at sea in wooden boats. The war ended 8 years ago. Just 8 years.

After a full day of wandering the beach, being smashed by the waves, eating fresh coconuts and getting sunburned, we went to dinner at a restaurant overlooking an inlet. The tide was low, so after dinner a friend and I wandered around the wet sand. A young boy and teenage girl were coming back from washing at the river and we asked them their names. After a short conversion, the 8-year-old boy gestured to the water and asked proudly, "Do you like my village?" Yes, yes I do.

The guards

2010-07-16T10:32:00.000-07:00

We have 3 "guards" who hang out at our compound and watch over the house we share with an American/Irish couple upstairs. In actuality, they are more like caretakers/groundskeepers/guides than guards. They let us in and out of the gate, turn the generator on when the electricity goes out, answer our questions on everything from types of food to the best beaches, and tell us when it is going to rain so we should bring a stinkin' umbrella (idiots!). Here's a typical conversation between Michael ("M") and me ("L").

L: "Hello, Michael."
M: "Linsa! Hello, hello! How was the day?"
L: "Fine, how are you?"
M: "Fine, fine. How was work?"
L: "Fine, work was fine."
M: "Okay, okay."
L: "It rained a lot today."
M: "Yes, yes, so much rain today."
L: "Will it rain tomorrow?"
M: "No, it will not rain tomorrow."
L: "You can always tell."
M: "Yes, I forecast the weather. Tomorrow will be no rain."
L: "You are always right! Well, have a good night."
M: "Okay, tomorrow! Tomorrow!"
L: "Goodnight, Michael."
M: "Linsa!"

Hopefully I'll learn some Krio soon so I can get to know them all better. But for now, I enjoy these quick exchanges and their smiling faces. We would be lost (and drenched) without them.

The water scam

2010-07-15T04:42:00.000-07:00

We were walking around downtown when we realized a small girl was following us. Carrying a wide, pink bucket on her head, she walked on the road next to us and only shot occasional glances our way. When we turned onto a side street to get into our car, she got closer, and braver, and waved goodbye. As she waved, her bucket tipped and little plastic bags of water exploded on the concrete. Embarrassed, she bit her lip and tried hard not to cry. Realizing she could get in trouble for breaking the goods she was supposed to sell, we pulled out some money and handed it to her. She took it, looking up at us and smiling slightly.

“Did she just scam us?” someone asked in the car. “If she did, she deserved the cash. That was an excellent performance.”

3 years!!!

2010-07-14T06:45:00.000-07:00

Happy anniversary to the cutest little guy with the best beard and the kindest eyes. I love you in California, Baltimore, Sierra Leone, probably everywhere in the whole world.

Prayers

2010-07-13T07:01:00.000-07:00

For those who pray, please pray with me for:

Kampala and all of the terrible, terrible things that happened on Sunday. I can't believe that something like this could happen in peaceful, safe Kampala. Please pray for comfort for those who were there and for the families of those involved.

One of our guards who lost a family member last night. His family is out in the provinces and he is going to be with them for the next few days. He could not look me in the eyes when he told me this morning. Pray that David and I would be able to be there for him and connect with him despite our cultural and language differences.

Patience in dealing with taxis and drivers. They are always late, if they show at all, and I'm having trouble having to depend on them so much. It's the rainy season so I can't really walk unless I want to trek through water overflowing from the sewage drains(which I did this morning when my taxi didn't show up).

Thank you!

World Cup 2010

2010-07-13T02:40:00.000-07:00

(Sad Holland fans.)

Watched the final in a little bar with lively locals, Star beer, and a dinner of rice and cassava leaves. It would have been amazing to see Ghana in the finals, but it was still so much fun to watch the game with people who love it so much.

Rainy season

2010-07-12T04:51:00.000-07:00

It is the wind that makes the difference. Without wind, the rain comes as a soothing shower. It brings cooler, fresher air and seems to wash away a layer or two of dust. The kids keep playing soccer and the women sit under umbrellas with their plantains, limes, and cucumbers for sale. But when the wind is there too, the rain feels violent and unpredictable. It rattles the windows and the palm tree outside our room. The tree rolls and turns and its long fronds slap back and forth, fighting the start of the rainy season. A flash of violet light comes through the window and seconds later a series of booming noises. “That’s probably the longest thunder I’ve ever heard,” David says.

Once it starts raining during the day, you know rainy season is coming soon. Locals are thankful for the rain: their crops need the water so they will grow. Aren’t I growing too? Aren’t I in Sierra Leone to learn and to grow? Maybe rainy season will be good for me too.

I'm sorry

2010-07-08T08:33:00.000-07:00

Downtown is a wild maze. People, motorcycles, taxis, chickens, and buses weave around and past each other, honking and pushing to move on. A coworker drove us to get our internet and phones set up, and we got lost in the chaos. Men and women on either sides of the car, music blaring from shops along the road, dogs searching for scraps of food. At one point we heard a thump and saw that she had just bumped a man with her side mirror. She was going slowly when it happened, so we didn’t think much of it. Traffic slowed and the man, eventually catching up with us, knocked on the window. We waved and kept going, afraid he would make a scene and ask for money (not a rare reaction). After all, he was walking in the road. The man turned and walked to a police officer who was standing nearby.

The police officer waved us over, and we pulled to the curb. David rolled down the window and the man said, “This woman hit me with her car, and when I asked her to stop and talk, she did not say she was sorry.” The police officer said with a smirk, “You did not say you are sorry? Why did you not say you are sorry?” A few minutes of apologies and explanation and we were off again.

And that is when I learned the power of the words, “I’m sorry.”

MDR

2010-07-07T10:36:00.000-07:00

My college roommates have a tradition that I hate. When one of us is being particularly dramatic- while telling a story, reacting to a situation, general behavior, etc.- the others might call you “MDR,” meaning “Most Dramatic Roommate.” I hate it because it has been bestowed on me many times, and to argue it only further proves their point.

I had a breakdown the other day. It started because the power was out all night. Without power, we have no air conditioning or fan. The heat made me restless and unable to sleep, so I laid in bed thinking about cool San Luis Obispo and wondering why we ever left. I got out of bed once I determined it was a reasonable hour, only to discover I had a headache. It was hot, I hadn’t slept, and I had a headache. I went into the kitchen to make some coffee and David followed me. He had opened a cupboard without me noticing, and as I was dumping the coffee grounds into the trash I stood up right into the cupboard door and bonked my head. Coffee grounds flew all over the kitchen and I burst into tears. I cried, “I’m so uncomfortable!” as I rubbed my head and wiped up coffee grounds.

Ladies, I’ll claim it. That morning I was definitely MDR.

4th of July in Sierra Leone

2010-07-07T09:05:00.000-07:00

The neighborhood

2010-07-05T02:49:00.000-07:00

Barf?

2010-07-02T08:11:00.000-07:00

We are here in Sierra Leone, wandering our neighborhood and enjoying the thunderstorms that have come every night. But, we'll get to that.

My dear friend Leenie took us to the airport in San Francisco on Tuesday afternoon for the first of 3 flights and 1 helicopter ride that we would take to Freetown. An incident happened in the airport that is equal parts disgusting and hilarious. But wait, we'll get to that in a minute.

The weekend before that my old college friends got together for a reunion. It was so good to see their faces and hear about their lives, and I'll show some pics later. The reunion took place right before we left for our adventure. Everyone went their separate ways on Monday and Leenie took us to the airport on Tuesday. That brings me to my story.

David and I decided to get some food quickly before our flight. I bought a bowl of thick, red, cheesy and sour creamy glop called Mexican chicken tortilla soup. I took one satisfying bite and stopped to break into my roll for dipping. The roll was so tough that I lost my grip, my arm flew back into the bowl and the entire thing exploded onto my body. I stood up with a scream, frantically trying to pull my pants from my burning legs without stripping in the middle of the food court.

The soup covered an incredible range- all the way from my boobs to my knees, but mostly concentrated around my crotch. This would not have been so bad had it been a brothy, less cheesy and sour creamy soup. This particular soup, when spread over a body, was the exact consistency and colors of vomit. I stood there with what looked like barf (or perhaps the big D) all over myself, trying to wipe it off but it was too thick and sticky. Our plane was leaving in 25 minutes. I laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

David had some extra shorts so I held them over my body and walked across the food court to the bathrooms. The soup was down my pants, on my shirt, between my legs, everywhere. I put the shorts on and tried to wash my pants and shirt in the sink. I could see people look at me disgusted from the corner of their eyes. I kept saying, "It's just soup," but I don't think they believed me. One women responded, "Oh, I just thought the flight didn't sit well with you." Duh. Another asked, "Do you have to travel far? Where are you going?" And I said, "West Africa." She shook her head.

Wearing a green shirt and huge, bright red shorts down to my knees, I carried the wet, disgusting pants through 3 airports before I got them clean and dry enough to wear. David called me a Christmas elf because of the colors and my legs looked so short.

So, that brings us to Sierra Leone! Back to lightning, World Cup, and red dirt roads. Slow internet, "How di bodi?" and palm trees.

G-pa and G-ma

2010-06-29T13:01:00.000-07:00

How precious are my grandparents? (The twins they are holding aren't bad either. Wink wink.) They have been married for 64 years and still going strong. Yes, I said 64 years! That pic of them dancing was from this past weekend at my sister's wedding (more on that later). When you watch them you can tell they have been dancing together for decades. They move as one piece.

Things I'll miss about Baltimore #5

2010-06-26T09:24:00.000-07:00

(Thursday night potluck group with Marley, the precious pup, in front.)

Our church "framily" (friends-family combined) at the Gallery Church. I felt so comfortable there that on my second Sunday I was introducing myself to new people like I had been going forever. This church is loving people like Christians were meant to love and we were blessed to be a part of it, even if just for a short time.

Things I'll miss about Baltimore #4

2010-06-26T09:12:00.000-07:00

Murals in unexpected places.

Florida with the Greenes

2010-06-19T08:38:00.000-07:00

We had the chance to stop in Florida for a visit with our friends, the Greenes. They are back from Uganda for a couple of months and we haven't seen them in a year and a half. We shared stories and reflected on the past year, read books to the kids, wondered how the kids grew so much, walked on the beach, and just felt so loved. We have really missed them.

Back to the West Coast!

2010-06-14T09:41:00.001-07:00

It took a week of long driving days (for David) and lots of candy (for both of us), but we made it! This drive felt quite a bit different from the trip out to Baltimore because we were exhausted from finishing school, packing up our apartment and moving all within 2 days. I was tired. And exhausted. But, we got to see some great friends, family and places along the way. Here is a little taste.

Davidson, North Carolina

New Orleans, Louisiana

San Antonio, Texas

Las Cruces, New Mexico

Summer!

2010-06-05T05:02:00.001-07:00

Done with school. Done with Baltimore. On to the next. Road trip back to CA starts today!

Comps. Bleh.

2010-06-02T14:16:00.000-07:00

Studying for comps is a lot less terrible when done here. (It is just a 30 second walk from my house! Why have I not studied here all year?!)

Things I'll miss about Baltimore #3

2010-06-02T10:47:00.001-07:00

Playing Catan with these crazies.

Things I'll miss about Baltimore #2

2010-06-01T05:59:00.000-07:00

Our monument. It was beautiful keeping watch over the silent, snowy streets of winter, and it is beautiful now under the heavy air of summer.

Things I'll miss about Baltimore #1

2010-05-31T08:14:00.000-07:00

Little Italy and the best dessert restaurant, Vaccaro's. Our first weekend in Baltimore we wandered over for dinner, passing a group of men playing bocce ball and a large crowd of families who had gathered to watch Roman Holiday on a warm summer night. A little old man projects the movies from his window while people watch on blankets and in lawn chairs, eating pizza and drinking red wine. Doesn't get any cuter than that.

Hollywood Diner

2010-05-28T05:21:00.001-07:00

When I told my dad we were moving to Baltimore, one of the first things he said was, "You have to watch the movie Diner." So, with less than 2 weeks before we move, we finally watched and realized that the diner itself is right around the corner from our house. We made like Mickey Rourke and Paul Reiser and headed over there for breakfast, milkshakes, and sugar directly from the jar.

Marek's visit

2010-05-27T06:27:00.000-07:00

The walk to school

2010-05-24T07:27:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I ignore the shuttle stop and walk to school instead. I head down the hill of my street and under the freeway overpass that marks the separation between Mt. Vernon and East Baltimore.

On the left is a jail with tall brick walls topped with barbed wire. A few men in jump suits walk out of the building, single file, pushing laundry carts. They disappear through a door and are gone. A middle-aged man on the sidewalk stumbles as he tries to maintain balance. He stares at the ground, wide eyed, as if he has no idea where he is or why. He is tripping on something strong and he doesn't even notice as I walk by.

An old lady stands at the bus stop in a turquoise dress suit with a hot pink cowboy hat. I smile and she stares straight ahead. On the left is a tree-lined field where young mothers push their babies in strollers and boys play football. I pass the Old Town Flava Barber Shop on the right and a large group of men sitting at the edge of the field. They are always there, no matter the time of day. Around the corner there is a street of homes that has been blocked off to cars. A tiny girl in braids sits on her gray stone stoop, lollipop in hand. A young man with quick eyes stands on the corner and points at the ground repeatedly. I think he is working with a drug dealer and I walk faster. He moves away when he sees me and I imagine what it would be like to be an undercover cop. (Scary, I decide.)

Pieces of paper litter the sidewalk and a plastic bag floats by and lands in the gutter, deflated. I pass a church and a few old women exit the front doors. They wear wide-brimmed hats and flowered dresses over their short bodies, and they smile as I pass. An older man in a hat and vest sits on a bench in the shade and smokes a cigarette. I smile and he says, "Have a nice day, baby."

I come upon a school where a group of young boys play basketball on a court with chain link walls and trash piled in the corners. Little ones run and scream on the playground, dressed in yellow and maroon school uniforms and hair twisted in ties all over their heads. A boy, standing at the top of the slide, waves and yells, "Hi!" I wave back. He waves again, so I wave again. I wonder if he has parents who love him and whether he will go to college. Suddenly, a helicopter appears overhead and I look to see if it belongs to the police or the hospital.

I cross the intersection and the neighborhood changes. The noise picks up and more and more people are about. A security guard sits in a booth, looking up and down the street as nothing interesting happens. Large buildings appear on either side of me, their names taken from old men with lots of money. People in suits and scrubs walk past a street vendor selling candy and soda. Important people walk quickly by because they have important things to be doing.

After just 20 minutes, I arrive at my building. I put on my badge and walk through the glass doors. I sit through lectures about HIV/AIDS, health equality and community participation. We talk about reaching the marginalized and saving lives. Then we pack up our bags and go home, walking right past the woman with HIV and the addict in the corner, all the while dreaming about when we will be able to put our knowledge to practice.

Uprising

2010-05-18T17:23:00.000-07:00

To clasp the hands in prayer

is the beginning of an uprising
against the disorder of the world.
Karl Barth

Finals smiles

2010-05-12T16:12:00.000-07:00

Because this is finals and I feel like I'm sinking, I'm going to list some things that made me smile today:

- the awkwardness of the above picture
- a little boy on the playground who waved and yelled "Hi!" from the top of the slide
- cookies and fruit in class
- a biker who gave a strong and full-armed point forward while going through a green light, making sure we all knew he wasn't turning
- a class speaker who kept throwing in little tidbits like "I was robbed once" and "the community gave me 5 shirts which I could not accept...except I did take one"
- rain on my face while walking home from school
- coming home to a clean house
- realizing how very loved I am by my family
- Marek is coming to visit tomorrow!!!!!

Doggie friends

2010-05-11T07:27:00.000-07:00

We made some good doggie friends in our 9 months here.

Bailey, the athlete.

Gatsby, the gentleman.

Bravo, the lion cub.

But it didn't make me miss her any less.

Sura, the queen of my heart.

Reasons I'm sad to leave school

2010-05-08T17:26:00.000-07:00

These faces.

Hello little wormy

2010-05-01T15:26:00.000-07:00

Can you see him?

The not so great part of Maui 2007

2010-05-01T10:13:00.000-07:00

(Waiting for the fire to clear. I think Leenie's gesture means "this stinks.")

(The fire that blocked the road to the airport.)

(The view from our emergency hotel. Not bad.)

I neglected to tell you about an important part of our Maui trip. It was nearly perfect, except for a bit of an issue we encountered on our last day. Or what was supposed to be our last day.

There was a fire on the island. And because the fire blocked the only road to the airport, we could not get to the airport. And because we could not get to the airport, we were diverted to a Red Cross shelter. They fed us pizza and bottled water and arranged us a hotel for the night. (I love the Red Cross.) We spent a few long hours in a gym chatting with a rasta-hippy named Jose Z who told us stories of whales and pretended to give us gifts then stuck them back into his own bag.

We all made it home the next day, but not without some drama and on 3 separate flights. Janne and Vanessa even had to bribe the airline employees with Costco churros. My roommates deserve a prize for being so patient with me while I stressed about getting back home. My wedding was in 2 weeks, and I was perhaps a little more upset than I should have been. No one really feels bad for you when you say, "Help! I'm stuck on Maui!" And they shouldn't.

East Coast childhood

2010-04-30T06:48:00.000-07:00

While my family was here, we visited the childhood home of my mom's friend. The brick mansion sits on a cliff overlooking a river right outside of Baltimore. To get to the river you walk past secret gardens and through pink blossoms to the boat house where kids spend the summer catching crabs off the dock. How East Coast is that?

Sister/Mom weekend

2010-04-27T18:51:00.001-07:00

Had so much fun with my sissies and mom (or "oldest sister" as she likes to say) this weekend. Favorite part: playing games while eating candy and listening to a thunder storm. Our apartment feels so lonely without them....

Visitors! Woo hoo!

2010-04-23T07:04:00.000-07:00

(My sisters Kandis and Kim with my mom.)

These 3 ladies are coming for the weekend! They must really love me because they are flying in from California, Arizona and North Carolina to spend a rainy weekend in Baltimore. Hopefully the rain takes some breaks and we can escape the tiny apartment, or at least we get some fun thunder and lightning. Yay, family!

Dreaming of Maui (and friends)

2010-04-22T15:58:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm in the final weeks of my program, I've been thinking back on how it felt to finish undergrad. I'll just say it: leaving undergrad was the end of an era that I still haven't quite gotten over. You see, I had the best college friends ever. I lived with 4 amazing girls for the last 2 years of college and my heart aches to think about it. The big house on Buchon with the porch swing and fountain, the green kitchen where we would talk for hours, "family dinners" and snuggle sessions, taking over the dance floor wherever we went, and the laughter, oh the laughter.

After graduation, we went to Maui for a week. This trip ranks among the most fun experiences I've ever had. We played in the waves, swam with turtles, had drinks and snacks every day at happy hour, sat in a hot tub under the stars, skinny dipped in the ocean (!), went to a luau, jumped off cliffs into pools, danced and sang to JT in our hotel room, and just loved each other as only best friends can. I miss these girls. Can we go back, please?

Baltimore tulips

2010-04-17T12:28:00.000-07:00

All found within a block of my house! Thank you, Spring!

Afternoon tea

2010-04-13T15:12:00.001-07:00

Today is rainy and cold, and I'm dreaming of an afternoon of tea, jam, cream and friends.

Yet time continued to pass

2010-04-08T14:54:00.001-07:00

Today was rough. Something happened that I haven't been able to get out of my head, and just writing about it makes my heart race.

I was running by the harbor and ahead of me I saw a family walking down the sidewalk. They looked liked tourists with their hats and cameras. The teenage son said something to the mom and she laughed in response. Then, just as I was about to pass, something happened. The mom answered her phone, and within seconds she began to sob hysterically and collapsed to the grass. The dad told the boys to sit down and the mom held the phone to her ear while she let out high pitched, painful sobs. It was the kind of noise you never want to hear. It was the kind that is inside of all of us, just waiting for a time to come out. I wondered what the bad news was. I wondered if the family would be okay. What would they do next? Where would they go?

And then I kept running. I looked back at the family sitting on the grass, knowing they were beginning a time of devastation and grief. But, within minutes they were out of sight. For me, nothing had changed. The sun did not stop shining. Time continued to pass. My legs kept going.