Showing posts with label Africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Africa. Show all posts

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

Sticks and Tin and Plastic

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You are probably wondering by now if I am ever going to write about the famous outdoor markets. How am I ever going to describe them to you? Can you imagine several acres of structures put together with sticks with coverings of tin or plastic? Can you? Well, I didn't really think so, but that's what I saw. And no, they wasn't just a shanty here and there, but they were CROWDED together with narrow, dirt alleyways in between. Not that you'd have much opportunity to notice the uneven terrain beneath your feet because there is so much else to gaze upon. I've expounded upon the people, people everywhere so you can just take it for granted it's the same here. For some reason I got the impression that the locals were either happy and smiling, showing their gleaming white teeth, or very sad. None of this impassive, distracted-by-business cares look. We saw lots of piggy-backed babies wrapped in shawls, of course, and many, if not most of the women wore wigs. There were beggars, here, to, of course. Did I tell you already about the little guy with pleading eyes who I let finish my pineapple drink? I was amused that he spit out the first swallow. Probably didn't want to get 'white man's germs,' but was touched that he shared it with his little friends. 

 An explosion of colors bombards the eyes
   s.  Rolls and rolls of vibrant material was available in many shops. Heaps of peanuts, mounds of tomatoes and other fruits, high stacks of egg cartoons, dried fish, squawking chickens, well you name it. I saw one chicken hanging upside down in the hand of a young girl, so innocently oblivious to the fact that it was heading for the stew pot. What else did I see? Would you believe techie stuff was really quite popular, especially cell phones?  I wouldn't have been quite so impressed, perhaps if later a friend told me of the total absence of such devises in Cuba. My, how can a person communicate properly in an area where the main mode of travel is by foot, if you can't at least try to reach someone on a cellphone? Okay, okay, I can almost see your amused expression and yes, I know they did it for thousands of years, but hey things happen. Someone is caught in a  lightning storm, miles from their village, a bike tire goes flat, well you name it. If it was your loved one, wouldn't you want to know what's keeping them so long?
I keep forgetting to check my notes. Hold on a sec while I see what I am missing. I had to studiously avoid the many cries of "mama" or "sister" partly because I wouldn't understand their language anyway, but mainly because I didn't want to disappoint them by admiring, yet not purchasing any of their pretty trinkets (or whatever.)
I think I had better 'slide" into home base now if I want to get this posted before it's time to leave the library.

Boah no-i-tah (Good night)
P.S. My pictures are never exactly what I saw, but as accurate as I could find on the internet. 

Saturday, 2 August 2014

African Fruit and Stuff



  • I was told there were three or four stages a missionary who goes through when they come to a place like Africa. I only remember three of them.
  • Honeymoon
  • Horror
  • And Home.
    I wasn't there long enough for it to feel like home, but the first two sure 'smershed' together in my mind in those short two weeks we were there. I love, loved, loved it therein many ways, but oh my, the horror! Let's get into a little more.
Try to picture all the clusters of tin roof shanties surrounded by barren ground on all sides. Not a blooming bush or strip of green grass to soften the village yards. Not a curtain fluttering in any window, or even, at night, the welcoming glow of electric lights. Can you see it? Now let's go inside. See the rooms? One, two, three. One for living, one a bedroom, and the other for storage. Ya, that's a bare dirt floor beneath your feet, and thanks for removing your sandals before entering, that's only courtesy, and we sure don't want to trample all over that bamboo mat where we'll be sitting.
  • I was told there were three or four stages a missionary who goes through when they come to a place like Africa. I only remember three of them.
  • Honeymoon
  • Horror
  • And Home.
    I wasn't there long enough for it to feel like home, but the first two sure 'smershed' together in my mind in those short two weeks we were there. I love, loved, loved it therein many ways, but oh my, the horror! Let's get into a little more.
Try to picture all the clusters of tin roof shanties surrounded by barren ground on all sides. Not a blooming bush or strip of green grass to soften the village yards. Not a curtain fluttering in any window, or even, at night, the welcoming glow of electric lights. Can you see it? Now let's go inside. See the rooms? One, two, three. One for living, one a bedroom, and the other for storage. Ya, that's a bare dirt floor beneath your feet, and thanks for removing your sandals before entering, that's only courtesy, and we sure don't want to trample all over that bamboo mat where we'll be sitting.

Show respect to what they are serving you, and at least try to eat it. Do you know they might be going rather hungry for the rest of the week because they tried to serve you their very best? That white stuff that looks sort of like stiff mashed potatoes is called Masa, or something like that. It's made from white cornmeal, I think. If you catch on quickly you'll be able to made a spoon out of a dab of it to scoop up some of the broth. I didn't quite get the hang of it partly because I didn't know what they were doing.

If you're like me, you'll be feeling sorry for that lively eighteen month old baby that wants so badly to run outside and play. Unfortunately it's not safe out there. Today the cattle are roaming close to the house and even if they weren't, the goats and pigs would not be far off. In some places there would also be small, skinny dogs and scrawny chickens in the picture.

I really liked this couple with the toddler. We went there for a meal, although the spread set before us was fancier than it would have been in many homes. Zach is the interpreter and an interesting story teller as well. I really felt for him though. His father was all swollen up and congested, and lived quite a distance away from his son as well as proper medical facilities. I've wondered often how that poor, old pastor is doing.

Once I thoroughly delighted a few little children who were pretending to make Masa around their tiny cook fire. I asked if I could have some to, and shared pretend food with them. The children are so sweet.

One thing that bothered me since coming home is the assumption that they have bare yards because that is how they have always done it. Sure there is a grain of truth in it, but people like Zach and others, are obviously intelligent enough to realize how much safer it is that way. Think of the fire hazard, especially in areas where there is lots of thatched roofs if they didn't keep their yards clear. It is an ancient custom that goes back thousands of years for a good reason. I don't want to scare you with the thought of snakes and scorpions and other nasty beasties that could hide in tall vegetation, but it sure would be possible!

Oh, back to those three H's. Maybe it did feel more like Home than I realized, because I sure did leave part of my heart there!

Show respect to what they are serving you, and at least try to eat it. Do you know they might be going rather hungry for the rest of the week because they tried to serve you their very best? That white stuff that looks sort of like stiff mashed potatoes is called Masa, or something like that. It's made from white cornmeal, I think. If you catch on quickly you'll be able to made a spoon out of a dab of it to scoop up some of the broth. I didn't quite get the hang of it partly because I didn't know what they were doing.

If you're like me, you'll be feeling sorry for that lively eighteen month old baby that wants so badly to run outside and play. Unfortunately it's not safe out there. Today the cattle are roaming close to the house and even if they weren't, the goats and pigs would not be far off. In some places there would also be small, skinny dogs and scrawny chickens in the picture.

I really liked this couple with the toddler. We went there for a meal, although the spread set before us was fancier than it would have been in many homes. Zach is the interpreter and an interesting story teller as well. I really felt for him though. His father was all swollen up and congested, and lived quite a distance away from his son as well as proper medical facilities. I've wondered often how that poor, old pastor is doing.

Once I thoroughly delighted a few little children who were pretending to make Masa around their tiny cook fire. I asked if I could have some to, and shared pretend food with them. The children are so sweet.

One thing that bothered me since coming home is the assumption that they have bare yards because that is how they have always done it. Sure there is a grain of truth in it, but people like Zach and others, are obviously intelligent enough to realize how much safer it is that way. Think of the fire hazard, especially in areas where there is lots of thatched roofs if they didn't keep their yards clear. It is an ancient custom that goes back thousands of years for a good reason. I don't want to scare you with the thought of snakes and scorpions and other nasty beasties that could hide in tall vegetation, but it sure would be possible!

Oh, back to those three H's. Maybe it did feel more like Home than I realized, because I sure did leave part of my heart there!
P.S. I found out later the third H was Humor. Something we sure can't do without!

Monday, 9 June 2014

A Peek Into My Private Diary


http://www.authorsden.com/marilynffriesen
Today I am going to let you have a peek into my own private journal. The thing is, something so special, so thrilling, happened that I want to share it with the world.

Maybe you have heard by now that we are planning on taking a big trip. BIG: as in a trip of a lifetime for poor folks like us.

Okay; blessing number one: someone offered to pay for half of the trip. Can you imagine that?! We are traveling clear to the other side of the globe to see our son who is doing volinteer work in Mozambique, and these folks really wanted to go, themselves, but they thought we should go rather!!
That decision happened a long time ago, but since then, something else incredible, or at least very special, happened.

Our son had informed us that, sure, the workers would do our laundry, but we should bring four or five extra sets along, anyway. Well, this ole Canadian girl doesn't have a closetful of lightweight cotton dresses for galavating across the world. I had purchased some material earlier to sew up, but had decided to wander into Value Village, a good second hand store, to see if I could find some suitable dresses. Generally it is highly unlikely that I would find something that is modest and becoming according to our conservative Mennonite standards, so I rarely even look.

This is significant enough to consider as a new paragraph. I started browsing, just casually browsing, and lo and behold I found a very cheerful garment that would match my complexion and aurburn hair just perfectly. (Oh, yes, and it was a great fit.) I continued searching and another home-sewn Mennonite style dress showed up, and then another! (All in my colors and size!) I took them all because they were all so lovely and looked like new, but quit looking. If there were any more, let someone else have the joy of finding them.

I was so overwhelmed and thankful, and could hardly get over it! Boy, does God ever like to spring neat surprises on his children!

P.S. I also found a nice pair of walking shoes as an economical price.
P.P.S. I'm almost reluctant to add this because you'll think it's too good to be true. This all happened on Tuesday which is 30% off day for Seniours. (No, I could hardly believe it, either!)