that's my beloved India

"... then the chaos can really begin…

The forthcoming chaos is really just a scramble to fix broken things. In the first 6 months of 2010, most things in the office were broken to some degree. In the following 2 months, before the next internship, we must fix them. It all starts with the fact that to do our design & project work we typically require ‘files’. Indeed, nothing can be done without ‘files’. These ‘files’ are commonly stored on a computer. And a computer requires electricity. Thus, we reach a troublesome set of problems I will outline below:

Problem no.1: Adam (our file server) is dead. We don’t know how to fix it. It must be fixed.
Problem no.2: To fix Adam, we must have electricity. The generator is dead – may it rest in peace.
Problem no.3: In lieu of a generator, we must have electricity supply. This week we received ~21 hours out of the ~45 office hours.
Problem no.4: To stabilize the psychotic* electricity supply, we must have new “earthing”.
Problem no.5: To have this “earthing”, certain fellows must begin working for their money. They have not. One week has passed.
Problem no.6: For these certain fellows to work, it cannot be raining heavily. It is monsoon.

For the sake of tact, I have not touched on problems related to ‘telephone’, ‘mobile phone’ or ‘internet’, because I want to emphasize that we do have water, food, clothing, shelter, in short, everything we need to live. But it is just precisely these frivolous extras (such as electricity & internet) that are demanded by our very unreasonable ‘office’. This is why we pine and fret during 6-hour power cuts instead of sucking our tea to relax.

So, pray for us. We know that the Lord will help us to bring things together in time, and we’re willing to take creative views to get around our circumstances too… So we’ll see whether or not we need to implement the Night Shift (electricity supply is typically excellent between 6pm & 8am)…

In Christ, in India,
XX

*I use the word ‘psychotic’ since the electricity supply has recently had a sort of crazy murderous instinct which is unsettling. If I were a machine at the office, I would be scared. Very scared…"

(an email update from my friend in ministry, the director of the India office that I interned at)

world's fair

I must say, I'm getting pretty excited. There is still so much to do within the next 2 months, and some have deadlines much closer to that. But that's the nature of departure, I suppose.

I received an email this morning from the university (specifically from the program director that I'm in) with a list of those of us who are getting an on-campus flat so that we could check accuracy. It has move-in dates (most being 1 Sept.), surnames, and country of origin.

The country part is the exciting one for me. (And I suppose that fact that I will have more official German address within weeks from now.) Chile, China, El Salvador, Ethopia, Ghana, India, Indonesia, Iran, Ireland, Kazakhstan, Mexico, Nepal, Nicaragua, Nigeria, Pakistan, Peru, Russia, Sudan, Syria, Uganda, & Venezuela. I am the only USA person, though I have already communicated with the other USA guy who has already moved into a place of his own in Stuttgart. But I am thrilled with the opportunity to work & play & live alongside people from so very different backgrounds and cultures. It should be a fascinating experience.

where I see myself

"What?" I kind of got that in a ball park now. "Where?" This one is a rather elusive question to answer. The simple answer is: short term - Germany, studying at the University of Stuttgart for the next two years starting this fall; long term - uh, hmm ... well, somewhere??

I kind of see myself somewhere on this earth. I know, I know, that's not very helpful.

I had a strange thought a couple of days ago. Could I work for the United Nations? Their playground/office is all the nations. And there is a department that is UN Habitat. "The United Nations agency for human settlements, helps the urban poor by transforming cities into safer, healthier, greener places with better opportunities where everyone can live in dignity. One of their directives is to "improve the lives of at least 100 million slum dwellers by 2020", which sadly is "only 10 percent of the present worldwide slum population" - access to safe drinking water, reliable housing, and economic options. Pretty cool, huh?

But I don't know where I'm going to end up. I'm okay with that though, 'cause really, who knows anyway?

how I see myself

"Ever since I was a little girl, I understood my place in the world – both present and future. For many years now I have envisioned myself as a licensed and practicing architect, and I have been progressively working toward that goal. I know that I am gifted and passionate about helping people bring what was just a dream to paper and finally to reality. Intermingled with schooling, I have deliberately found myself working and serving in cultures and locations not my own. Two years ago I began an architectural internship in India with a non-profit international Christian development design organization. Upon returning from India and other places like Guatemala, Mexico, Poland, Senegal, and inter-city neighborhoods in the United States, I understand my role differently.

Well designed architecture can have a profound affect on its physical and social worlds. But can functional, beautiful structures truly change things? Much of the developing world can indeed benefit from architecture, but there are other needs - sometimes more significant hurdles in development. It is easy to see an economy crippled by the health of its labor force that are needlessly sick due to poor or nonexistent clean and waste water management, or to sit in traffic for hours because there is only one road charged with carrying thousands of people, foods, and goods to the capital city.

After successful completion of the Master’s Program of Infrastructure Planning, I plan to enroll in an accredited master’s of architecture program to additionally fulfill the requirements for licensure in the United States. With both of these educational backgrounds, I will then have the tools necessary to facilitate positive change in developing countries by means of improving how they live, work, communicate, and travel, thereby improving quality of life around the world. My purpose in life is to bless people, and to help them do what they do better."

-Letter of Motivation to the graduate program in Germany I was recently accepted to!

chapter: senegal - part 6 (day of rest)

Friday, January 15. Day 8 of the medical mission trip to Senegal.

After 8 days in country, I finally culture shocked. Oh man, it was rough. The medical part of the trip had concluded; the witnessing never finishes. We boarded our friend, the mini bus, and headed out with packed day bags for an city called Mbour on the coast of Senegal. This is essentially resort town. We arrive first at a boutique for shopping for those who are always eager to shop (I don't fall into that category, but I did buy my sister a postcard). When the store closed for siesta (another very positive trait I wish the U.S. would adopt), we walked across the street and down this long path in a park-like setting in this beach resort for lunch and general chilling.

Europeans every where. The street outside the gate: dark skinned. Inside the resort: pale skinned (and lobster colored). They do employ Senegalese men. But it was very odd. One of the things that bothered me about this was learning that almost all of the people here arrived via airplane in Dakar, was directly loaded unto a charter bus and dropped off inside the gate at the resort. Their notion of what Senegal is entirely lies within the resort property among fellow Frenchman or Germans or whatever (mostly French). How sad. I imagine they are content with such a shallow understanding of what Senegal is about. But I suppose we all do that. The affluent take vacations outside their bubble of knowing, hit the tourist spots, and call it done. The poor have an understand of different cultures based on movies or celebrities or what is heard. (All American women aren't Brittney Spears or Paris Hilton. I know, I know, It's news to me too.)

Anyway, the next step in this culture shock occurred as I sought a place to settle on the beach to read my book and plug into my iPod underneath shade. As expected on many beaches, people lay out in the sun. Apparently, however, the French have a history of being topless. Praise God it wasn't a nude beach, but to go from conservative dress (women in villages don't wear jeans) to topless bikinis is a large leap. I only felt comfortable enough to wear a tank top and shorts.

Once again it was reinforced that I don't do 'nothing' well. And yes, I realize that I was hovering over the rest of the team trying to get them to leave. I was anxious to leave and head back to Theis.

Thus concludes day 8. One more day to go.

chapter: senegal - part 5 (almost done)

So I'm sitting in an airport once again ... but not some crazy long transatlantic flight. My point is, I am sitting at the gate doing nothing, so I might as well work toward the conclusion of this story before it becomes a month old.

The last I left you was Wednesday, and we stayed in Theis for the day doing clinic for young boys. Thursday started quite similarly to the first two clinic days in the villages, and the day was supposed to look close to the same as well. If you can't tell, I 'm leading into a plot twist.

We're driving along in our rented mini-bus thing (I forgot what they're called) that we've been in all week now, heading in a different direction going to a slightly different area of the country. This last village was the only Wolof speaking village on our schedule (the others were Seree). We're on our way, more than an hour into the trip when we stop with just a handful of miles between us and our destination. Why? Sand. The sand was so bad - so much of it, that if we tried to continue any further, we would have been stuck. Luckily (praise God), we happened to be driving along with this 4-wheel drive jeep that was carrying missionaries staying/working in a nearby village who was going to be helping us out with the clinic. So without much information at the time of what was going on, we piled in as many people as could fit and took off. Then the jeep went back and was crammed full of as much medicine as could fit; then people; then more meds; then more people. And oh boy were we sliding around on that sand.

Welcome to Ndakhar. We arrive (in sections) and like the other places we go, we are an instant attraction, especially to the children. We chatted (poorly on our end) and played. When the meds arrived, we set them up in a fairly dark two room school. A nearby pavilion became the consultation area, while the nurse area set up shop underneath the shade of a large tree. This day I stayed entirely working in the nurse area, mostly as the first point of contact - the weigh station. Part of my job description quickly became crowd control. The previous days the people waited, seated in some shade, waiting fairly patiently for their turn. As the villagers arrive, they are checked in of sorts and put in an order of first come first served ... unless you are triaged ahead of the line. At Ndakhar, the nurse station was the nearest shade, so they were waiting right next to us. Then it became that we had crowds of people huddled closely observing their neighbors and friends have their vitals checked and recorded. And several people throughout the day didn't really want to believe in lines, and wanted to push through to the next open seat. I am not being cynical or mean here. I experienced the same thing while in India. I was waiting for "my turn" at a hospital to pay, while the locals just pushed up and stuck out their ticket to get it taken which meant it was their turn. Sometimes, culturally, waiting in line truly is a foreign construct ... kind of like being on time and sticking intensely to a schedule. Funny things those are, I know.

My job morphed out of necessity to bouncer/ weigher/ usher/ greeter. Intense, but fun. And I got to work alongside a very cool woman who was one of the missionaries we meet on the road - Divi. She is from New Zealand doing a year service in Senegal (her term is up in May). She is my age, plays basketball, has a way cool accent, and was wonderful to talk with. She was a delight.

We did our work. Saw and helped more than hundred people once again. Chased a goat. Packed up and left the same way we arrived. Lovely day. Thus concludes Thursday, day 7 (maybe - who's counting).

chapter: Senegal - part 4 (@ dhara)

So now it's been 2 weeks-ish since the Senegal mission trip. And the section section to be covered begins with its problems. The day to be discussed is Wednesday. By this time, the team is a pro at the Seree greetings from two previous clinics in Seree villages. So Wednesday's scheduled activity was to stay in Theis where we were sleeping and do clinic for street kids essentially. This is where the two problems come in. I didn't take any pictures of the place or the kids out of a fear/respect for the men running it. What I'm trying to say is that I didn't want to be seen as inappropriate and ruin the Christian witness to these Muslim religious leaders who we were serving and the witness from many others. The second issue is I don't know how to spell the place where we were serving ... which doesn't work so well for a written blog. So for a likely incorrect spelling I'll just go with "dhara". There are multiple dhara in each major city and even the smaller towns. In its pure form, dhara is school - an Arabic teaching Koran school for small kids. Parents send their boys (I think its only boys, but I very well could be wrong) so that they can grow up as good religious men. If you are wealthy you can afford to send your son to a decent dhara. If poor, well ... not so good.

The team that we joined from Pennsylvania had done clinic in two different dharas before. The first one, we were told, was on the "not good" side. The boys stay there, beg on the streets for money (to teach humility), and study the Koran in Arabic. I really don't know much about the whole process, especially as an outsider looking in on one particular instance.

The dhara we were in for clinic was not beyond imagination bad. The boys looked in pretty good condition. We were all kind of on edge and prayed up, not knowing what to expect. It was a large concrete structure with a second floor half the footprint of the ground floor. There was no solid floors, just dirt. We gave each child a vitamin, a dose of de-worming meds (as in intestinal parasite stuff ... it happens when you run around bare-foot), and tanga (means candy) - just like the lollipop after the dentist. After all the nursing station stuff, they went into the medical consultation area for specific stuff. I don't anything that happened in their; I was giving every kid one chewable children's vitamin. After we saw all the kids, some other kids not belonging to the dhara came in.

That's what we did. We played with with them; encouraged them to dance with us; mostly they just laughed at us; we tried to comfort them; we tried to give them motherly touches; show them love and care; be Christ for them. And that's what the day was all about. And it was good.

chapter: Senegal - part 3

Let's see. Where'd we leave off last? Ah, yes. Time for the medical part of the mission trip.

Day 4: We began each morning with scripture and prayer and some breakfast. Monday was not any different even though we woke up to donkeys and the sound of early morning work done by the women. It made me feel more than a bit lazy. The women that live out in the villages work so very hard. Many of them just look so tired. Up before dawn, carrying water from the well, doing the cooking and cleaning, and still working as the sun sets. And yet they are so gracious and hospitable.

Sorry, back to Monday morning. We gathered in the church in Diohne, which is where we were set up clinic. We gathered every one together for prayer. A few minutes in, I felt my legs go weak. I didn't want to sit down because everybody was standing. But that didn't matter - down I went to my knees. I suppose God knows that sometimes I'm a better visual learner.

I don't remember if I began in the pharmacy or the nursing area doing vitals. No matter. We saw and (hopefully) assisted more than 100 people in each of the 3 off-site clinics - Monday: Diohne (a Seree village); Tuesday: Langomack (another Seree village); and Thursday: Ndakhar (a Wolof village). We gave vitamins to as many people as we could - but especially kids. We treated for malaria, intestinal parasites, arthritis, headaches, infections, colds, and whatever else ... I just do what I'm told with all that medical stuff.

Langomac on Tuesday went very similarly to Diohne. We met at a church plant, and set up clinic around the building. I was at the nursing area outside (near the outhouses) most of the day either assisting taking temperatures, writing the info on people's chart (half a sheet of preprinted paper) or helping at check-in, trying to make sure everyone was seen in some semblance of first-come-first-served. We'd pack up everything late afternoon so that we could be back on the road by sunset. We gathered together for dinner either at our hotel or a missionary's home. Most of the evenings, a few of Linda & my friends (those that were in Theis) would come over to hang out and chat. We knew these guys from their training and stay in San Antonio with DLI (Defense Language Institute - or something like that). It was good to catch up with them again. Other members of our team also enjoyed getting to know these fine Senegalese gentleman.

More later. I'm tired. Next for your viewing pleasures: Wednesday clinic at a dhara (or dara or darah) in Theis.

chapter: Senegal - part 2

Sunday, Jan. 10 was the beginning of an amazing time. As a team, we decided to stay in one of the villages where we would serve over night. That morning after breakfast and a devotional we headed out of town for a 2 hour ride. Destination: Diohne (roughly pronounced Joe-heen).
There is a running joke/commentary from Westerners who live or visit almost all of the African countries. We called it Senegal Time. Essentially, there is no such thing as "late" because the important thing is that you arrived and the relationships you have while trying to arrive is more important than getting to a place on a schedule. Anyway, so we arrived at this church plant in Diohne on Senegal time. But no matter, the congregation was waiting for us by doing other things. We worshipped with them for a couple hours - they sang, we sang, we all danced, sermon message translated.
This type of worship is such a treat for me. Praise sung out to our God in whatever language; me not understanding the words, but knowing the heart, the content.
After the service and everyone greeted each other (I'm pretty sure I met everyone there), they all disbanded for siesta. Businesses and schools take siesta because typically it's just too hot outside during early afternoon. Several from our team sat under this huge tree and chatted and chilled and worked on our Seree (local language) phrases. Slowly people started reappearing again. Kids came out to play. We pulled out the futbols; we had card games going; we even pulled our sleeping mats together and taught some girls how to tumble. There was this one little girl that had her aunt's Bible in Seree. She would flip through it, point, and I would do my best to read it. Her aunt then sat next to me opened up to the end of Matthew and she would read a few words and I would follow her lead. Then I read the same passage in my English Bible.
Late afternoon, Robin (one of the team members) and I decided to go for a walk. We met up with Jerome who lived in a nearby community. (Diohne is a large village made up of several smaller communities.) Through his little bit of English plus charades, he told us about the history of the village. His family, a long time ago, actually started Diohne, and his dad is the oldest man living there. As we walked we kept bumping into his cousins or uncles or 3rd cousins twice removed (family trees get complicated). He told us how they make and store their millet (a staple food like grain). He invited us into his home and other people's homes. Each family group (all of the extended family) has wall around their homes with the individual families within the wall. When you marry, you essentially build your room(s) in your parent's backyard. That way family sticks together and everybody is there to assist.
After 9pm that night, there started a dance. The row of drummers on djembes came up with their own rhythms while a few people in a ring around the center would pop out, move their to the beat crazy fast for a few seconds, then sit back down in the ring of people. I managed to hide in the darkness while others of my team where pulled in to dance. But twas the time for our naming ritual. We were all pulled into the center and one by one our namesakes (people from the village selected us to give us their name) danced with us individually. So her name is now my name. My Seree name is Ndew Seine.
After that long day, 6 of us slept in a tent, 2 in the church, and the men somewhere else. The stars were brilliant that night.
Thus ends day 3. Day 4: clinic in Diohne.

chapter: Senegal - part 1 of whenever I end

We have made it home safely ... with a bit of drama, but all is well. I have to continue with malaria pills, and I have napped often on the plane, in the airport, on the plane, and throughout today. But all this is the end of the chapter instead of the beginning, which is where I'd like to begin.

My friend and I got to Austin airport several hours before departure. Our flight out was slightly delayed. Meaning our layover in Dulles to Senegal shortened to about an hour. But no biggie - we just had to jog to our departure gate since they were already boarding. Onward to Senegal!

Day 1, Jan 8: We landed in Dakar as the sun was rising. First thing I notice was the scent of salt water and fish. I greatly dislike the smell of fish. Most people on the South African flight don't get off at Dakar (their destination is Johannesburg), so it's not a mad rush to get off the plane. Did customs without a hitch. Baggage claim, almost without a hitch. My friend Linda's personal bag was not here. All the meds made it which was fantastic. We speculated what adventure her bag was going to have. Maybe it didn't make the quick transfer at Dulles. Maybe it wanted a South African adventure. No matter, it arrived a few days later with the help of a Senegalese friend. In any case, we were the last people to leave. Nobody was even at security to check our bags.

We immediately left Dakar and stopped at a discipleship training facility just outside the city called Haven for Hope for breakfast and a nap. Most of us (including me) did not sleep well on the 8 hour flight over the Atlantic, so the nap was a God-send. Theis, another major city in Senegal was to be our base camp for the next 9 days.

I honestly don't remember much about this day. And I confuse the details I do know with the events of Day 2, Saturday. Yea for a digital camera with a date stamp. We ate some good food. Went to an Artisan Market. Had cultural orientation (which I don't remember). Visited Barthimee Hospital (Christian hospital in Theis run by missionary doc - Dr. Ted). Met with and had laughs with several Senegalese friends that I met in San Antonio. Sorted and packed medicine bags. Slept sometime in there.

Until next time: Day 3, Sunday, Jan 10. Village life at Diohine and a sleep over.