Life Goes On

Yes, it has been so long since the last post here. Nearly three shameful months of not making time to write things down here. But life has been happing. Supersonic. Fast. Some of it heavy and requiring extra processing.

Here are snippets from today, just today...a day like many other days. Full of life and fun and stories that fuel a soundtrack in my mind that includes "Nobody Told Me (There'd Be Days Like This)" and "People are Strange".

Today started out with school in the banda; the kids and I usually lay in the hammock and read there at least once a day. In the last couple of weeks, we've been checking for bees before we get in (after I sat on a big wood bee and earned a huge welt) and also since yesterday, I've been double checking the straps holding the hammock after someone apparently re-rigged it, causing me to painfully crash to the tile floor.

Ruby enjoys telling me how old I am (not in a mean way, she's just in awe that she knows someone this ancient), I'm sure that shouting out in pain over a bee sting is impressive to her.

So, school, a couple of meetings, swim lesson and library time with the kids, going to pick up the kids after these things, spending time with friends, then going to SalaSala, a service learning part of our week.

One boy at SalaSala was too old to be there, although I couldn't tell it by his size. There is another day for boys his age to come and play sports, and he would like to come on that day, but he has to work at the local stone quarry smashing rocks on that day. He is nine years old.

Our friend Shaun led a short message for the children, talking about how God is the tree and we are the branches. Among other activities, the kids had drawn their own branches on a huge tree drawing, and he talked about what makes a good branch good or a bad branch bad. Good branches bear fruit, while branches that don't are pruned. He and Grace, a Tanzanian teacher, did a great job.

SalaSala was good, even great, but after the children left, we heard singing coming from the house next door, a typical local African house. It sounded joyful and happy, but friends told me it was a song announcing to the whole area that a child had wet the bed. In this ritual, the neighbor kids all come around and sing a simple song, while the wayward child is made to carry the matress on her head around the yard. In this case, they dragged her about 50 yards to the road, sobbing the entire way. My friend's daughter was pleading with her Mom to do something to stop it, and so they went out to politely engage the other children in conversation, just to get them to stop singing. Then one daughter put her arm around the shamed girl's shoulders and walked her, still crying, back to her house. My friend has good daughters (and son!).

It's the first time I've seen this particular ritual here. Shaming children really bothers me. Not just in this culture; it happens in every culture and country, but that doesn't make it less ugly.

At bedtime tonight, I answered a pretty normal array of eclectic questions such as, "Why did God make sharks?" and, "How did God know to put me in this family?" and, "Why are boogers sticky?"

These guys are always keeping me on my toes.

It seems like 300 little other things happened today, but it's late and I'll spare you those details.

Just wanted to update you on what's been happening here. Life, and lots of it.