This is so awesome!

I love the fact that African women don't play around.
This is a group from church who were baptised last week. Yes, 4 of them are wearing plastic grocery sacks on their heads.
Of course they are! If you spent all of that time/money getting your hair done, you're not going to get it ruined in the water!
This is a common sight in Swaziland on rainy days as well. There's no shame.
It think it's awfully innovated.

Error of the non-moms

Yesterday we got left with a baby at the office. She's the daughter of a great new worker and I'm not sure exactly how, but me, natalie, jesse, sarah, and nomtie kinda found ourselves in charge of her while we did our office work.
That shouldn't be a big deal right? 5 girls should be able to take care of a very clever two-year old right?
Isn't it in our DNA?
That assumption was mistake #1.
Two breasts and a dress do not a mommy make.
We all tag teamed for a while passing her around and enjoying her cleverness. We love her so much! But eventually the playdough came out, the coloring books and crayons, and the teddy bears.
Then we turned out backs.
(That's mistake #2 if you hadn't figured it out.)

Nombtie came into our office laughing. "Shame. I went into the ladies toilet. Tracey was standing there with a soap and a cloth... she was bathing herself in the toilet bowl! I cleaned her up and brought her back"


Baby Tracey was so proud of herself!

Shoprite is my nemesis.
Its whole existence on this planet it to test my patience.
It is CEO-ed by Satan, I swear. Shoprite is the grocery store from HELL!!!!!
I HATE SHOPRITE!!!!
So you can imagine my surprise when I drove into town from Manzini to find all of the roads blocked and thick black smoke billowing up into the sky.
Shoprite was on fire.
I couldn’t help but smile secretly to myself. No, I didn’t do it, but I did fiddle as it burned.
Burn baby burn!!!
But then I tried to go to Spar on Saturday, just to pick up some eggs.
That’s all I needed, just some eggs.
Six simple eggs, maybe to make an omelet or bake something nice to share.
As I rounded the corner of Spar with KB, I stopped dead in my tracks.
My mouth hung open.
Through the front pane windows I could see that every register was open and the queues were stretching down the isles. Each one was 20+ deep.
I couldn’t believe it. I turned around and went back to the car.
Dang you Shoprite! Even in your death you still taunt me!!!!
Curses!!!!

This is special to me!

You know here in Swaziland, I'm part of Healing Place church. This is a plant from the US Healing place, and while it is only 4 months old, it is growing by leaps and bounds.
Yesterday we had a meeting and talked about why so many people are coming and staying, some who don't even speak English. The swazi told us it was because they are feeling loved, and accepted. So even though some might not understand the English sermon, they come again and again because of the love. Our vision is to be a healing place for a hurting world,- we must be doing it right.
Well yesterday HPC had their first baptism service, and 32 people were baptised!
Some were husband and wife, some were mothers and their children, some were my coworkers at the office. It was just so special to see how their lives are changing, and they are growing spiritually. I'm so happy for them!

Culture Shocks: These things just made me smile!

“Christy, KB’s kombi is dead at the spar. We pushed it to the side. I came to get Thabo’s kombi, but it is dead too. It must be this cold rainy weather. Will you take us to rescue KB?”
Okay, no big deal. Nombtie and the guys pile into my truck as we make the short drive to the Spar parking lot.
Happily I found an empty parking spot right next to the kombi. (Kombi batteries aren’t under the hood, but on the side behind the passenger seat.)
So they attempt to stretch the jumper cables from the kombi to my truck only to find out we were about 4 inches too short. The two vehicles needed to be closer together.
So can you guess their solution? Yes, if you read my blog regularly, you already know what I’m going to say.
Get the dead battery kombi closer to my running truck.
4 people stood out in the pouring rain pushing the kombi backwards, and then ran quickly around behind it pushing it forward again as KB steered the wheel closer to my truck.
They cheered triumphantly as the cables reached my battery and after just a moment the kombi was jumped and running.
Nombtie got back into the warm dry truck with me.
“Nombtie…wouldn’t it just have been easier for me to move my truck closer to the kombi?”
She packed up laughing as she realized what the 4 of them had just done. “Oh yes, my baby… That’s funny we did that…. Do you have one of these blog things? You should put it on there to make us laugh. Oh that was so funny.”
Yes is was.


We played this board game the other night where there is a category and you quickly right down as many things as you can and then compare with your partner. You get points for any matches that you have.
Cross-culturally this is a difficult game to play. For example, “Names of football teams” will get responses of “Cowboys, Steelers, Lions, Bears” from an American but “Sharks, and Springboks” [soccer teams] from a Swazi. (Actually those might be rugby teams but you get my point.)
So the category was “Things that people are afraid of”
My list:
Spiders
Snakes
Marriage/commitment
Heights
Death
Cockroaches
My Swazi partner’s list:
Snakes
Shylocks (like a loan shark)
Taking a loan (getting yourself indebted to a shylock)
Diseases.
Wow. It showed me such insight to the differences of the culture. Yeah, who would be afraid of heights, when the shylock who gave you a loan for school fees is charging you 300% interest?



I took two Finnish women to church with me yesterday where we had a great baptism celebration service. Afterwards we ate cake. Now, some of these pieces of cake were hilarious! I think the cutters didn’t consider the height of the cake so they turned out as blocks of cake. They were huge!!!!!
I was laughing with the girls about it. The one said, “Oh… we knew everything is bigger in American… we thought that was just the way you ate them.”

"cake" rhymes with "headache"

I thought it would be a pretty easy task.
Bake a cake. I’ve done it a million times.
But baking a cake in Africa is a whole new ball game
I set my oven to 190C, and was sure to use the upper heating element in my oven. It works better.
I mixed together all of the ingredients like I’d seen my mother do a hundred times.
I greased the pans well, poured in the batter and placed them on the middle rack in the oven.
After 25 minutes the dinger rang and I checked them with a toothpick.
They were very high, but runny all throughout.
What the heck?
Well there were two problems. One, the upper heating element was going out so the oven wasn’t even hot! It was just kinda warming the batter at 50C instead of baking it at 190.
Crap.
The other problem was that I’d forgotten that the flour here is not all purpose flour but self rising flour. So when you add soda to that, it makes it rise super high. (I know you are thinking that is a good thing but it’s not. Read on)
So I decide, okay I’ll turn on the lower heating element and bake it some more.
But now as it begins to heat, the batter continues to rise and now it is overflowing over the pans and onto the hot heating elements on the bottom. There are chocolaty stalactites forming on the pans, pools of chocolate on the bottom of the oven and black smoke is pouring forth from the oven and up rising up into my bedroom.
Double Crap.
So I quickly turn off the bottom element. I’ll turn the top on again, but this time turn it up really high so it reaches 190C.
That sounds like another great idea. I can’t believe how clever I am in a crisis. But the problem is now that the cakes have fallen from their great heights and the super high heat from the element has only succeeded in broiling the cakes.
I was so frustrated I threw them out. But that didn’t’ change the fact that Kristen, Greg, Sarah and Jesse were coming for dinner the next night and I needed a desert.
So the next day I bought cake flour, more soda, and made a second attempt.
But this time I’d run out of sugar.
After a quick trip to the girl’s house, I was in business. I finagled the over right to bake everything nicely.
Happiness at last…until I tried to turn them out. Turns out my cake pans are a bunch of crap and the cakes stuck like mad! I had to literally pry them out with a spatula. I stacked them up and proceeded to try and ice them
Have you ever seen that movie The Hours, where Julianne Moore pretty much has a break down because she is trying to ice a cake and feels like a failure as a woman when she can’t do it? Yeah, that was me! The whole thing was crumbling, and sagging. I pretty much said, “Screw it” and adopted my dad’s frosting technique that resembled spackling more than icing. Lift it, and shove some frosting in between the cracks. A hole? Fill it up and smooth it out.
So in the end of my 2 day ordeal I ended up with one very ugly delicious spackled cake.
But it was a hit with my dinner guests, and the story is one to retell again and again.

It's worth repeating,- published in 2005

Beyond the limits...

People are often surprised to learn that I'm from Flint, Michigan. They've seen it on the news, they've heard about it from others, they've even seen footage of it in Michael Moore movies. I guess I don't fit the image of someone who would come from a town like Flint. It's viewed as poor, violent, oppressive, and hopeless. When I asked a high-school friend about living in Flint, she said, "People don't actually live in Flint...they just exist." Amen to that sister.
Perhaps if these unbelievers had known me 15 years ago, they might have thought differently. As a teenager, I figured I'd go to a community college, marry young, have a few kids, retire at 52 and spend my time sitting on the porch with the friends I'd always had. I'd go to the bowling alley for fun, consider mowing the lawn a hobby, and be content to watch one day pass after another. I'd live for myself, looking for minor amusements in the form of TV or perhaps neighborhood gossip. And best of all I'd make sure I'd always live in Flint, - after all where else was there to go?
To say it best, I had a very "Flint" mentality: My dreams were limited. Because of my finances, life experiences, and self-image, I thought I was reaping all that was available to me, and therefore was content with what I had.
I'm so thankful now, that God was not content with me settling for less than his best. His plan was to use me for so much more than I could ever dream, and He was not content to watch me sit idly by.
I love the perspective Kathryn Kuhlman had on this topic. Once, as a friend protested to holding a church meeting because the ministry only had $5, she said,
"If we serve a God who is limited by our finances, then we are serving the wrong God. He's not limited to what we have or who we are. If he can use somebody like me to bring souls into the kingdom, He can certainly use our five dollars and multiply it just as easily as He multiplied the loaves and fishes for the people on the hillside"
Glory to God! He is not limited! Lack of money, humble beginnings, poor attitude, no education, minuscule bits of self-esteem- none of this inhibits his mighty power! No matter where we came from, or what our past has included, He is still powerful enough to use us as his instrument.
Strangely enough, The Bible says we're in good company. David, Moses, Isaac, Ruth, -even Jesus himself came to service with shadows in their past. I'm sure there was a time when others looked at them and asked, "How can you be used by God? You are an adulterer, a murderer, a swindler, a poor widow, born to an un-wed mother. How can you be used by God?"
And this list of servants isn't just of biblical characters, no, no! Billy Graham, Joyce Meyer, Benji Kelley, Christy Merrill, Heidi Lyda, Heather Doss, Jennifer Halsey, Adam Livermon, Wes Pulley, Joey Reed, Jenn Temple, Natalie Spera and _____________(insert your name here reader) have all been called into his service regardless of hometown, education, savings account, age, or past mistakes.
When God calls us, he is fully aware of the challenges set before us in the natural realm. And yet he calls us anyway.
So what is keeping you from experiencing the full power of God, and serving him with your life? Do you feel he can't use you because of a past addiction? Because you're not smart enough? Because you are too old? Because you've made poor choices in the past? Maybe we all need to take on Ms. Kulhman's attitude.
If we serve a God who is limited by our hometown, then we are serving the wrong God.
If we serve a God who is limited by our education, then we are serving the wrong God.
If we serve a God who is limited by our former drug abuse, then we are serving the wrong God.
If we serve a God who is limited by our family's dysfunction, then we are serving the wrong God.
If we serve a God who is limited by our age, then we are serving the wrong God.
If we serve a God who is limited by our past mistakes, then we are serving the wrong God.
If we serve a God who is limited by ANYTHING, then we are serving the WRONG GOD.Please, Please, Please, reader, take him out of the box and allow him to show his majesty and glory in its full, unlimited power.

Just for my Ego...

Okay, I'm bad about technology and such. But I'm figuring out this blog has a fan club!!!! Yes over on the side is an area for fans and followers!
Are you a regular reader? I know you are! You can become a follower and add your little name and silhouette there on the left. Then you can be in my blog fan club!
Yea!!!! (Who wants to be the president?)
Honestly, there is no real reason for this, other than to stroke my ego. But I really am amused by the simple things in life, so humor me.
Join today!

Holy Crap! That's it, I'm leaving Africa part 3

Okay, okay, I'm not really afraid of grasshoppers, but it's just a big big!
And this isn't even the biggest I've seen here. This was just the one that was in the women's toilet.

The weather has been hot here, so I’ve been leaving my doors open and locking just the burglar doors if I’m going out for a while.
Yesterday, I came home from church and found 2 brown blobs on my kitchen floor.
Is that coffee grounds? How did it get way over here?
It wasn’t coffee.
It was bird poop.
Huh, that’s funny. A bird came in, pooped, and then flew out the other side.
No such luck.
While reading on the porch I heard chirping coming from the loft.
Oh no!
Shur ‘nuf. He was upstairs in my loft, and had littered my carpet and bedspread with feathers, and poopie. I tried opening all the windows hoping he would fly out. Turns out he’s a dumb bird.
He did figure it out after a couple of hours.
So that’s how I spent my holiday,-washing duvets and comforters.

Math makes me feel old.
I was just pondering today… I’m 31. So if I got married soon-soon and had a baby right away, I’d be 32 when the baby was born.
That means when the child graduated, I’d be…50???????!!!!!!!!!!
What? I’m late!
I should have had a baby 10 years ago!
Stupid math.

Happy 2 B me! R U?

I read a funny quote this morning:
“Every morning when I awake, the greatest of joys is mine: that of being Salvador Dali.” Of course spoken by the artist Salvador Dali.
But isn’t that a great perspective to have on life? Everyday you wake up to your life and are excited about it? There is no one else you’d rather be?
It took me a long time to get to that place. I was probably 27 or so before I finally felt comfortable in my skin. A lot of it had to do with a change in attitude. I stopped looking at the things that I was still waiting for and started counting my blessings.
I was healthy. I had a job that I enjoyed. I had family and friends who loved me. I got to eat fried chicken when ever I wanted. I had financial freedom, a cute condo, a car that ran, and a Jesus who loves me.
I stopped waiting for my cellulite to magically disappear as I ate fried chicken. I accepted that this is the only size my thighs come in. I learned to embrace being single until that time that price charming arrived ( because he always does ladies.)
And by focusing on the great things I have in life instead of the things I don’t have, I began to love my life.
So many times we think we will be happy when…
When I get more money, a husband, a baby, a house, a bigger house, those cute sunglasses, and more fried chicken. But the truth is when you get them, you’re not always as happy as you think you will be. Your husband’s feet stink, the baby’s diaper stinks, the house has taxes to pay, the sunglasses get scratched and no matter how much friend chicken you buy it inevitably is never enough.
Happiness comes from contentment. Like Paul wrote, “I’ve learned to be content in all things whether abased or abounding.”
I wonder is Salvador Dali was able to love his life because was content with the things in his life as well… I’m sure being crazy didn’t hurt either.

Holy Crap! That's it! I'm leaving Africa Part 2

What is with these monster bugs in Africa?!!!!!
At Xai-Xai I came out of the shower and went to my room to brush out my hair. I felt something pinching at my elbow, and my first thought was that Natalie had snuck in the room behind me and was pinching me as a prank
I spun around to find no one.
That’s strange.
But I had felt something. I brushed my elbow with my hand and to my horror watched a seven inch centipede fall off of the back of my shirt!!!
Now, I’m not a screamer, but I ran screaming from the bedroom, calling the other girls to come and rescue me. Now the centipede had run under my suitcase so they couldn’t see it. All they could imagine was a “big centipede”, like a normal big centipede. Not a crazy-big African centipede.
So Jacci and Natalie go in casually, rolling their eyes at my stupidity looking for this monster that I was over reacting about.
Looked around the room. Didn’t find it.
Looked under my suitcase. Didn’t find it.
Looked behind the curtains. Didn’t find it.
“I’m not coming back in there until you kill it!” I screamed hysterically at them.
“It’s not here. It must have run away. It’s gone now.” They said shrugging it off.
“No! No!” my hysteria rising, “You’re not allowed to come out until you find it. It’s in there some-…”
AAAAAiiiiiiiiEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!
Found it.
Natalie came screaming from the room herself.
She joined me in hugging the banister for protection as Jacci kicked the mini-snake out of the room, over the edge to the living room below and then out the door where she proceeded to beat it to death with a log.
Did you hear me? A Log.
Look at these pictures! You can actually see the crazy beast in the pictures as Jacci is beating it!
I tried to sleep that night, protected only by a mosquito net, but to be honest it was a few days before my heart rate was back to normal.

This is the perfect picture for modern African culture. The woman is hawking her wares at the marketplace, and playing with her cell phone.

Raul says:

Everyone has an inner child.
Mine is a twelve year old boy named Raul.
I believe the appropriate term to describe him would be “cheeky”
He takes photos of lion pooping in the game park. He eats at Peckers restaurant (snicker). He drinks Pimp Juice energy drink instead of Red Bull. And now he feels compelled to blog about toileting in Africa.
So this is me and a long drop toilet. We stopped by the carepoint in Xai-Xai to take some Mission of Mercy photos and get some profiles. And since they are only feeding there, there is no permanent structure with a proper toilet. Hence the long drop.
Now I must put in my two sense. Long drops are far superior to pit toilets (like what we have at camp grounds in the US.) Do you see those two little foot shaped concrete wedges I’m standing on? This is to place your feet properly. Then you bend forward and lift that wire to open the squash shaped cover to the side. (That’s to keep it sealed, the odor in and the flies out.) Then you pull down your pants or pull up your skirt (not shown) and do your bidness.
The thing is, with your feet on the cutouts, there is no room for human error. Anything you have will go right into the squash shaped hole.
No fuss no muss.
It’s engineering genius.
When Raul grows up he wants to be a long drop engineer.