6.My teachers

Okay they are the reason for my joy and frustration every day. But that’s love huh? I have such a respect for what they do and accomplish each term. As a former teacher I know the challenges of classroom life. But when you add the challenges of poverty, HIV, and death of parents into the mix…well you can see what they face. Yet the come to work everyday with love and compassion for the kids. Simply put, Children’s Cup could not do the things we do without them. They are the absolute backbone to what we do every day.

7. Nomtie and Nomdumiso

These two beauties made my office days bearable. What could have been boring cubicle experiences were always parties with music, dancing, and unprofessional amounts laughter.
Nomtie loves like no one I’ve ever met, giving me a pet name “my baby” and daily hugs and kisses.
Nomdumiso is newer to the staff, and newer to the faith, but I see such strength and potential in her. We had some great discussions of faith and life, and she’s one I intend to follow up on through the years. I expect great things from her.

8. Patrick and Jordan

This “odd couple” duo added a lot of humor to my African experience. You could not find two more opposite personalities and yet they made a great team. They’ve rescued me from roof rats, chilled in Mozambique with me, and sometime just came to eat cake. But I’ve developed a unique love for each of them, would adopt either of them as my baby brother if it was legally possible.

9. Game parks

A regular park of working with Children’s Cup is hosting teams. And a regular part of hosting teams is going to Game parks. There was just something amazing about sleeping in the bush, and watching the sun rise as you drink coffee in a land rover. God’s creation is so beautiful and the animals are amazing.
I’ve seen 4 of the “big 5” and have seen just about every African animal known to man, except a giraffe.
So many times as I was watching elephant herds roam, or hearing rhinos grunt, I’d think “Is this really my life? Am I really this blessed?” Most people never get to go on an African safari.
I’ve been on several.

The Top 10

Okay with less than one month left in Swaziland I've begun to reflect and process. I think this will help me to transition. So over the next few days for all of you trusty blog readers, I will post the top 10 things I will miss most when I go home next month.

10. Everything in bloom:
From August ‘til May everything that stands still blooms in the most amazing colors. Jacaranda trees, frangipani, plumaria, orchids, poinsettias, African tulips, and on and on. For months on end I would shoot photos and email them to my dad who loved gardens.

“We might be surprised at the people we find in heaven. God has a soft spot for sinners. His standards are quite low.”
-Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu
I can accept this statement from an African Anglican Archbishop. However as an American, I wonder if we might be surprised at the people we don’t find in heaven. How low do we think His standards are?

Miss America

Well your prayers worked
You know I’ve been struggling with the idea of coming home.
I woke up this morning soooo over Africa. (You can stop praying now.)
Maybe it was the humidity in Maphaveni.
Maybe it was one too many crazy drivers on the road.
Maybe it was the 9th day of rain, or my power going out for the umpteenth million time.
Maybe it was realizing I need to make my Thanksgiving shopping list today so I’ll be able to get all of the ingredients I need over the next 2 weeks.
I’m just tired of it all. (More likely I’m just tired. I get cranky/whiny when I’m tired.)
Now I’m at the other end of the spectrum.
I have 5 weeks left here,- 35 days. And today it seems like 34 ½ too many!
I long to see my mom.
I want to buy new mascara with options other than outrageously priced Maybelline.
I want to go perfume shopping.
I want to feel carpeting on my feet.
I want to turn on a furnace when I’m cold.
I want to see the new James Bond movie.
I want to sit on a comfortable couch and watch a tv show.
I want to go for a jog without carrying mace.
I want come home from work and not have to wash my feet.
I want to throw away my long skirts.
I miss America.

I’m trying to psyche myself up! I’m making mental lists of things in America that I enjoy, that way I can be excited about leaving Africa next month.
These are the things I’m excited about:
Sweet tea, starbucks, Christmas, my mom, cable phone calls for one monthly price, the Today show, high speed internet, pizza hut/mcdonalds, drinking water from the tap, my house, a truck with a working cd player, talking to Heidi on the phone, my nieces, seeing snow, a real winter, furnaces/air conditioners, free chips and salsa at Mexican resturaunts, maybe getting a dog, Target, movie theatres ,and Ann Taylor Loft.
It worked!...for about 30 minutes.
Then I looked at the list. Yes I love all of these things. But I realize all of these things (with the exception of my mom) are superficial things that really make no difference after you experience them. Are any of these things going to give me purpose, or value?
So I’m back where I began,- feeling blah about returning without know really what the next step. I know the next step will be awesome, but it’s hard to get excited about it if I can’t see it unfolding. You know?
**** Note to readers. It's been a few says since I wrote this. And the more I pray about it, the more I realize that this is His plan unfolding. Therefore, it's filled with good things. As Natalie says, "when you are following the Lord, change is always in your favor." So I'm starting to get excited,- even if I can't see what is ahead. This time I know it's for the right reason, not just because I miss Starbucks.

My new husband

We thought it would be a funny joke. (At least I think he was joking. Lately, it’s hard to tell with him.)
“We can be facebook married.”
“Okay that will be fun. Everyone will freak out. You change your status first, and then I will.”
Typetypetype. Click click
Christy is now Married to Rick Y-----.
Oh my goodness! Within minutes our notice boards lit up.
24 messages total, including my mother.
“Congratulations! May God bless you.” (that was the only nice one)
“Congrats… I never thought my eyes would see it.” (I would have been insulted by this one had it been to me and not him.)
“What’s this all about? He’s just marrying you for your fireplaces” (as if that’s all I have to offer a man)
"Again?... how many is that now?" (RED FLAG!!!)
“Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” (oh okay, I guess the sun even shines on a dog’s rear somedays.)
“Just who did you marry? Where are your registered?” (I shoulda played this one out long enough to get that tea set I put on my wish list at target.com)
“I thought I would be in your wedding.” (okay fair enough Jenn)
My word! I can’t wait to hear the comments when we get divorced next week. (Facebook isn’t legally
binding is it?)

I've had lots of challenges while I've lived here.
Today was the biggest
I attempted to buy foundation in Africa.
What a joke.
I did finally find a bottle that was close to my shade.
It was in clearance, $15Rand off.

By February 2006 more than five million children had died from HIV/AIDS, and another 2.3 million children were infected. (UNICEF)
85% of them lived and died in sub-Saharan Africa.
Two- months later I arrived on my first trip to Swaziland.
I was so naïve.
For years I’d heard about HIV treatments, -ARVs and cocktails that added quality and quantity of years and drugs that would prevent the transmission of the virus from mother to unborn or nursing babies.
I thought they were everywhere.
In my lifetime we’ve seen a rapid decrease in the US infection rate.
But at the same time, there’s an outrageous increase of infection and death throughout the rest of the world.
Why?
In the year 2003 the number of childhood infections from mother to baby:
United States: 59
Ethiopia: 60,000
80% of those Ethiopian children died before the age of two.
How is that possible?
No access to these life saving drugs.
I asked my teachers the other day, “Do you remember when I came in 2006 to visit? I know the people had ARVs then… how long had you had access to them?”
“Oh, not long… I don’t remember, but not very long… they are new to Swaziland… just a short time.”
How is it that we Americans have watched a healthy happy Magic Johnson talk about his ARV since the early 90’s, and yet tens of millions of Africans have only recently received them?
I’ve recently read there’s no me without you by Melissa Fay Greene, a wonderful biography of a woman who has cared for orphans in Ethiopia. It’s a touching story filled with history of the country, but also history of the pandemic and its spread.
The role that our pharmaceutical companies played (or refused to play) was shocking. This is just a tiny, tiny, tiny excerpt, but enough for you to understand what I didn’t. Perhaps you are just as naïve as I was.




“Exclusivity is the lifeblood of the industry, “ writes Dr. Marcia Angell in her best-selling book, The truth about drug companies, “Because it means that no other company may sell the same drug for a set period. After exclusive marketing rights expire, copies (called generic drugs) enter the market and the price usually falls to as little as twenty percent of what it was.”
“But,” writes Angell, “Industry lawyers have manipulated some of its provisions to extend patents far longer than the lawmakers intended…
“Drug companies now employ small armies of lawyers to milk these laws for all they’re worth,- and their worth a lot.
“The result is that the effective patent life of rand-new drugs increased from 8 years in 1980 to about 14 years in 2000. For block-busters-usually defined as a drug with sales of over a billion dollars a year (like Lipitor, or Celebrex, or Zoloft)-those six years of additional exclusivity are golden. They can add billions of dollars to sales.”


…The big drug makers weren’t focused on keeping lifesaving medicines away from the poor; the millions of people dying of AIDS (6.4 million by 1994; and 22 million were HIV-infected) were not of specific interest. What the drug companies wanted to avoid was seeing a generic drug-identical to a pricy brand name drug-sold at rock-bottom prices. There were two big problems with this. The first was that the comparison could prove uncomfortable if a person in Brazil or India could purchase an exact copy of AZT for $1,000 a year a customer in Sweden, France or the Us might question why he was paying $10,000 or $15,000 for the branded version…
...The second problem was that if generic-drug companies began churning out knockoffs, the cheap versions of the drugs would surely make their way in to the rich markets of the northern hemisphere…
…So global patent protection was the new frontier…
…The cost of fighting the AIDS pandemic in the 1990 with brand-name drugs was estimated at $3 billion a year. The US government subsidized the cost for some Americans. African governments were too poor. And their AIDS sufferers were too numerous, to contemplate doing the same. The drugs were not expensive; the patents were. The patented drugs cost $15,000 per patient per year, although the production costs might have been closer to $200. This led to sticker shock among the world’s governments: universal treatment would not be an option for Africans..
…By the mid-1990s it was evident that South Africa was the hardest-hit country in the HIV/AIDS pandemic 4.3 million South Africans were infected with HIV; a quarter of a million South Africans would die of it by 2000; and it was estimated that , by 2010, life expectancy in SA would have fallen by more than twenty years…
…In 1997, taking advantage of a legal exception in Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights (TRIPS) the South African government passed the Medicines and Related Substance Control Amendment Act. Theoretically, under TRIPS, in a public health emergency, a government was permitted to suspend the patent protection on a brand-name drug within the country (this was called “compulsory-licensing”) and was permitted to shop for the cheapest versions available of brand-name drugs, rather than buying them directly from their manufactures. (This was called “parallel importing”) Less than three months after Nelson Mandela signed the “medicine Act” into law, the Pharmaceutical Manufacturers’ Association of South Africa, representing 39 pharmaceutical companies, filed suit in South Africa’s Constitutional Court, barring the amendment from taking effect. Plaintiffs included Alcon, Bayer, Bristiol-Myers Squibb, Boehringer-Ingelheim, Eli Lilly, Glaxosmith-Kline, Merck, and SmithKlein Beechem…
“…what drug companies are concerned about ,” James Love, executive director of the Consumer Project on Technology, testified before the US Congress Subcommittee on Criminal Justice, Human Resources and Drug Policy, Committee on Government Reform, “is the embarrassment of seeing a drug like Fluconazole selling for $23.50 in Italy but only $.95 in India. In this sense it is a public relations issue. But how many millions should literally die of this embarrassment?”…
…But the US government …pressured SA to repeal the Medicines Act. Congress temporarily cut off foreign aid…US trade Representative Charlene Barshefsky denied SA certain tariff breaks and place the country on a “Watch list”…
…The big drug companies took a thorough drubbing in the press over their lawsuit against SA, which had to be one of the worst public relations missteps of all time. Two years later still sheepish about the poor judgment, and industry representative addressed a health and human rights conference. He opened with a joke: “People ask me how we could have been so stupid as to sue Nelson Mandela.
I tell them we had to. Mother Teresa was already dead.”…
…At the waning of the 20th century, the major drug makers were presented with a historic opportunity. Crisis beckoned to them to recast the industry along ethical as well as profitable lines, to bring their medicines to the front lines of humanity’s gravest health emergency.
Instead they sued South Africa….
…In 2005 GlaxoSmithKline (formerly Burroughs Wellcome) saw the expiration of it patent on zidovudine (AZT) Generic drugmakers in China, India, and Africa applied to the US Food and Drug Administration with requests to manufacture generic versions and four American drug makers applied as well. GSK’s Retrovir cost $3,893.64 for a year’s supply; between 1987 and 2005, Retrovir generated $4billion in sales.
The generic version costs $105 for a year’s supply…

From the other side...

This election has been interesting over here.
Wednesday morning I woke up in Mozambique and watched CNN international. We are 7 hours ahead here so I watched all of the things y'all stayed up late to watch.
So now we have a new president.
It's funny to see the international reaction. The whole world is excited that we have an "black president" (I think that expression is funny in itself. He's bi-racial right? So if he lived here the Africans wouldn't even call him black they would call him 'coloured.' And he would probably be discriminated against. But I guess if you are the new American president you are 'black'.)
That morning I went into a gas station to buy a bottle of water. On the counter was a newspaper with the entire front page filled with Obama's picture and big headlines in Portuguese.
Then I pulled out a metici to pay for my water and looked at the picture on it. I laughed to myself, "They have a black president,- I don't know what all the fuss is about"
But I'm realizing the hope that people are putting in him. In all of the newspapers and radio shows here they are talking about "What does this mean to Africa now?" There were news clips and articles with his "family" in Kenya dancing and shouting "We're going to the white house!"
And I guess that makes seance to them. "Family" is a very different concept here than in the US. So now that their cousin's brother's wife was once married to Obama's grandpa's sister's niece, they probably do think they are going to the White House to help him rule. After all, when you come into power the first thing you do assign high paying jobs to all of your family.
I don't know what kind of international promises he made in his campaign, but I'm pretty sure he will focus on fixing our country first, and then other countries later.

What?!!!!

I can't beleive it! I've lost a follower! I don't know who, but it went from 12 to 11. Dang it!
(This must be how Jesus felt)
But it was bound to happen. With a mouth like this you are bound to offend someone.

Lamenting

I'm very conflicted. Some days I hate the fact that I'm leaving. Other days I can't wait to get home.

My days here are so limited.
I'll miss the way children undiscrimiately run to hug me/ play with me/ sing my praises.
I'll miss the daily feeling that I'm serving a greater purpose here, and that my life is making a difference.
I'll miss the way that I hear God so clearly on foreign soil.
I'll hate that "home" doesn't feel like home anymore.
I'll resent that no one will know what I mean when I say "don't give that to the blind one," or "shame," or "how" or "Eish."
I'll be annoyed that there is no one to share the joy plumarias,frangipani, roibos, or pavlova with.

It's not that I won't have great experiences back in the states. It's not that there's no cool stuff there. After all there is target, and sweet tea, and my mom.
But it just bothers me, that I've had such a wonderful experience here, and once I go home it will be permanantly over. My experience here will be left here because there is no one there that has shared it with me. It will be tied up into a nice little package labeled "africa" and will sit on a shelf. And once in a while I'll enjoy it by myself.

I feel as though I'm restarting my life completely, the third time in 7 years and there is no one and nothing of this life that will overlap with the next. They are completely 100% severed from one another.

My nomty!

Can I brag for a second? I love my friend Nomty. She is one of my favorite Swazi people!
Even though she's young, she's a doll,- cheerful, loving, helpful, just a delight to be with.
But best of all she keeps me in stitches! There is never a day that we are together in the office that she doens't have me laughing. Here are a few things she has said that crack me up:

"spaghetti? You like to eat noogles?" (i thought it was so cute I call them noogles now.)

"Ahh, Christy,- you have the perfect body. You are just small on top, and then you have a big butt!"

"oh Christy, you are a good dancer, you are flexible. you don't dance like a mlungu. (white person)"

Taking Suggestions

okay, remember I use to have the list 101 things To Do before I turn 30?
Well I turned 30, and then 31. I was thinking I should make a list of things to do before I turn 40. most of the things on my 30 list were done, I guess that makes me a go getter.
So Im taking suggestions. Any ideas of worthy activities?

here is what I have so far:
101 more things to do before I turn 40 on July 28, 2017
1.Get married
2.Go to Italy
3.Go to Alaska
4.Go to Zimbabwe
5.Publish a book
6.Have children
7.Adopt children
8.Win a contest with a cool prize
9.Learn to shoot a gun
10. Ride in the side car of a motorcycle
11.Speak internationally
12. Speak at conference
13. Freelance write.
14.Study the psalms
15.learn to swim
16.visit chimney rock in NC
17. Go out west
18.sleep on a water bed
19. have a sleep over with my nieces
20.visit central park
21.try a bloody Mary
22. learn 10 healthy recipes
23. learn to sing
24. watch CNN for 1 month to learn about current events
25. go to post Katrina new-Orleans
26. but a bouquet of flowers to give to a random stranger
27.go buy-one-get-one shopping with the intent of giving away the freebie
28. meet a celebrity
29. Have a pet dog
30. Plant a fabulous garden
31. Visit the holy Land
32. see the grand canyon
33. see mount rushmore


I need lots of suggestions.

A lotto company in Swaziland has been doing some publicity here. Their idea is to fly in a helicopter and rain money down on people.
People like that idea.
They waited for the helicopter to arrive.
Their behavior was interesting. Many ran like crazy, jumping , scrambling, running after notes as they blew in the wind. One man had the clever idea of standing on top of the toilet house so he would have a ten-foot advantage over those on the ground.
But others stood, just watching. Maybe they had all the money they needed. They laughed at the erratic behavior of those scrambling for the money.
One woman simply stood in the middle of the field watching everything go on around her. I guess no money fell in that exact spot because as the helicopter flew away she was photographed with her hands turned up to the pilot and an expression as if to say, “But wait, what about me? I didn’t get any.”
It makes me think about the church.
Am I (are you ) the kind of person who is chasing after God and all that he has for me?
Am I willing my let myself look like a crazy idiot?
Or am I (are you ) someone looking from the sidelines laughing at the “fools.”
Is my best effort to chase God standing in one spot thinking “Well if it falls in my lap, then okay…but I’m not really going to put much into it.”
Will I (will you) be disappointed when I go without?
Seek and ye shall find… knock and the door shall be opened to you.

Parable of the olives

I tried to open a jar of olives.
Stuck.
“Here, you’ve got big muscles,” I said to him. “Can you open this?”
“Sure, givit here.”
“Wait…no…maybe I can …(grunt, twist)…”
I tried tapping the lid on the counter. Taptaptap.
Stuck
I ran it under hot water.
“Givit here”
“No… my hands are just slippery now….lemme get a towel… I wish I had that grippy thing. You know I use to have this rubber grippy thing…. I could get it if I had that grippy thing.”
Still stuck.
I hit the bottom with the heel of my hand. Again. Again.
Stuck.
Sigh.
Thrust.
“Here…”
Twist. Pop. Open.

This will make you smile,- no matter how many teeth you have

Mike is visiting from the states.
mike: "I went to see the Makes at the carepoint. I was talking to one,-"
jacci:"Which one?"
mike:"ummm.. I don't remember her name... she doesn't have any teeth..."
(long pause by me and Jacci)
Christy: "you'll have to be more specific than that."

x-mas in swaziland

Here in Africa we don't celebrate Halloween, and of course we don't have American thanksgiving. So what's to keep us from celebrating Christmas in October?...absolutely nothing!!!!!!!!

These are the decorations for the grocery store. Santa was getting a good wash before he made his debut. Yes it was a bit creepy watching a swazi bathe a fat white man in the parking lot, but whatever.

Even Mozambique has their decorations out!
3 months of Christmas! Do you see why I love it here?

More African Pictures

These little ones were in the preschool program in Nkobi. I love the mural.

As if I wasn't pastey enough on the beaches... I went to an african beach. But it takes the pressure off trying to tan. I mean, who am I trying to fool? No matter how dark I got, I'd still be the whitest girl there, right?
One little guy didn't have a "swim costume" so he jumped in necked. ha ha

Did it ever occur to you that Judas walked around with Jesus,
talked to him face to face,
saw him cure the sick,
feed the masses,
raise the dead,
was sent in 2's,
cast out demons,
performed miracles himself,
and then walked away from it all.

1/3 of the angles sat in the presence of God Almighty,
sang worship to him,
and then rebelled?

It's a sobering thought

I'm eating States

I've been spending time a a classroom that needs a little boost. Yesterday at break I was hanging out with the kids as they ate a bowl of....stuff. It was rice and soupy, and have some vegetables in it.
"What is this? I haven't seen it before."
"States, Auntie."
States?...do they mean 'steak'? No, it's not steak...
"What is it?"
"States."
I was puzzled. I asked the teacher.
"What do you call this food here?" He asked them.
"States."
He frowned, puzzled as well. Then, a smile erupting, he bust out laughing.
"Oh, this is from the food boxes that come from the US. They see that it is written "United States" on the boxes, so they think that is the name of the food inside."
That is too funny.

one to ponder

What is Jesus meant everything he said?

Counting my blessings

There is a spectrum.
Look to the right and you'll see people who have so much more than you.
A bigger house
A fancier car
A huge disposable income
A prestigious job
A cabin/beach house/ boat
Fame
Botox
They are the Paris Hiltons and Donald Trumps of our neighborhoods, our PTA, even our family circles
But look to the left...
Yes, I choose to look to the left.

Water...

In Mozambique, if you live within 5km of water, you are considered "with water."
What?!!!
I freak out if I turn on the tap and nothing comes out. I shout, "I don't have any water!"
But these women here, will put a 25L bucket on their head and walk up to 3.5 miles just to get their daily water!
That's crazy!
So the Children's Cup Nkobi carepoint had a well dug. Now all of the women can come and fetch their water for free. What an amazing ministry to this community.

Moz

I'm in Mozambique and am taking this opportunity to upload pics using this fancy thing they call high-speed internet.

I'm smiling

It's good to get some good news.
Those of you who follow my blog might remember the post I made in January, about a woman I'd met from Moneni. She'd just found she was HIV+ and was struggling to decide whether to take her ARVs or not. "If I take these things, then it's admitting to myself that I am sick"
I tried to convince her that with them she could live a long productive life and watch her children grow up. Without them, it was only a matter of time before she would get sicker.
I saw her again this weekend, with clear skin, and a few more kilos on her frame.
She smiled and hugged me as she walked by, whispering, "I'm taking those tablets now."
I was so proud of her.

Pride is spelled P-r-i-i-i-i-i-d-e

I’ve had one of those spiritual weeks where I feel like crap. Do you ever have seasons like that?
For example, the other day I left my teachers meeting and headed towards Mbabane quickly. The Malagwan Hill is still under construction and you are guaranteed to get stuck for at least 20 minutes on the way up. If you hit at 5 O’clock rush hour, you’ll be there until dawn.
So at 4:05 I was high tailing it out of Manzini. I could just make it before it got too bad.
I got just a few kilometers down the highway before I hit traffic.
There was a wreck.
Of course there was.
We’ve all heard of Murphy’s Law. I’m convinced Murphy lived in Africa.
People were all standing on the shoulder of the road, and there turned over car on the edge. One lane was closed and everyone was merging to the right.
Well of course just as I was approaching, this massive truck came against traffic, stopping everything so they could turn the car back over. It had some big crane thingy that reached an arm over the closed left lane and then had chains to hook on to the car. As they did all of this the cop decided to let traffic pass under the arm to keep traffic flowing. The line in front of me was two cars, a bus, another car and me.
The two cars in front went quickly but there was no way the bus was going to fit under the arm.
It was obvious to everyone except the bus driver. He wanted to give it a try. The cop stopped him and was waving his arms. He kept motioning for him to pull off to the side and let everyone behind him by.
Nope, the bus driver was insistent that he could fit that big ole bus under the crane arm. So the two of them sat arguing while the rest of us tiny cars waited, unable to go.
You stupid bus driver! Why are you such an idiot? There is no way that bus is gonna fit! Get out of the way and let me through!!!! (You can imagine I grumbled a few other words, but this is a family-friendly blog, so I’ll keep it clean.)
Finally the bus driver conceded and moved to the side. But… you guessed it. By now they had finished rigging up the chains so they had to turn the car over.
No more passing.
@$%#!!!!!!!!! %#^$&%^#!!!!!!!! &*@%^#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Try as they might, they couldn’t flip the car back over. In fact they only succeeded in spinning it on its roof, so now it had its butt end hanging out into the once empty passable left lane.
No more passing…ever.
Eventually, before I had a heart attack they unhooked the chains, and the big massive truck moved so we, including the stupid bus driver, could drive through the right lane again.
Finally!!!!
I hit the gas and zoomed past the wreckage. And just as I passed the turned car, I felt God speak to my spirit, “Did you even pray for that person in the car?”
I was one of those moments that you glimpse yourself in a spiritual mirror and shudder at what you see.
It had never even occurred to me that there was a person involved.
Of course there was. Cars don’t flip themselves. I’d seen the ambulance there. There was a person involved. A person who matters to God. But that nameless, faceless person never even entered my mind.
Were they killed? Were they thrown out in the roll? Were they still trapped inside? … I don’t know.
I don’t know because I never even considered them. I was only concerned with myself. And I drove the rest of the way home with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I wish that was the only time something like that happened, but it wasn’t. Time after time this week, the Lord has stopped me and shown me the pride and self-centeredness within me. It is so ugly, and so very humbling. In Christy’s world, it’s all about Christy.
I’ve just been clinging to Ezekiel 11:18-20 “… they will remove every trace of their detestable idol worship. I will give them singleness of heart and put a new spirit within them I will take away their hearts of stone and give them tender heart instead. So they will obey my laws and regulations. Then they will truly be my people, and I will be their God.”

I don't get it

why is the dollar strong, and crude oil down?
Please educate me.
The headlines are all saying we (the us) are in a financial crisis... so why are good finacial things happening?

This is from the Middle Aged Mother Goose, I thought it was cute.

Wish I had written this

I recieved this as a forward from my mom. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants,- which you'll see is a lot like friendship...



Are you tired of those sissy 'friendship' poems?
Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship.
You will see no cutesy little smiley faces on this card-
Just the stone cold truth of our great friendship.

1. When you are sad --I will jump on the person who made you sad like a spider monkey jacked up on Mountain Dew!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.

3. When you smile -- I will know you are plotting something that I must be involved in.

4. When you're scared -- we will high tail it out of here.

5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining, ya big baby!!!!

6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.

7. When you are sick --Stay away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.

8. When you fall -- I'll pick you up and dust you off-- After I laugh my butt off!!

9. This is my oath...I pledge it to the end. 'Why?' you may ask -- because you are my FRIEND!

Friendship is like peeing in your pants,
everyone can see it,
but only you can feel the true warmth.

Back to Basics

Hmmmmm.... I'm hearing big things about money coming from the states. We love our money don't we? Perhaps we've been loving it too much lately.
Yes, I know this issue with the bailout and such is nasty. And they say it could send us into a big recession.
But I'm starting to wonder if that would be so bad. What if, we as Americans were forced to go back to basics. What people lost jobs, and only one parent could work? What if we were forced to go back to small houses, one car families, dinner at home, $25 cable plans, $30 cell phone plans, small family vacations, modest Christmas and working in advance to buy something instead of putting it on credit cards?
What if we didn't have plasma tvs, suv, and plans to retire at 50,... or retire at all?
Yes I know this is a huge issue, I'm not trying to make light of the situation or belittle that people are losing their 401 K plans. I know that is a big deal to them.
But I'm living in a country where 12 year old girls prostitute themselves to go to school. Do your daughters do that?
Here, there is a gogo who has lost her husband, and all 6 children. She is now raising 25 , yes 25 grandchildren on her own in a one room house. Does that look like your life? Not mine!
Here the average life expectancy is 30, and people work until they are too sick to get out of bed.
Women here start their day at half past 4 to build a fire, heat water to bathe, and cook breakfast for their children before riding a public transport kombi to work at 8
I just wish we as Americans would open our eyes and be grateful for what we have instead of fearful that we might loose it all. Maybe we've leaned on our own strength for too long and have forgotten who gave us everything in the first place.
We should start examining our hearts about what really makes us happy, and what is truly important to us.

I know that sounds so harsh, but even in times of recession we are still more fortunate that a huge percentage of the world!
I think our culture spends a lot of time crying over spilt champagne.

Just some pics to enjoy!

Here are some pics from my most recent trip to Mozambique.

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.