Here comes the rain do do do do....

Wow, I really can't believe that I have been living here in Kabula, Kenya for a week already! Once again, time likes to play tricks on me and it feels like I have been here forever and for no time at all. But regardless of how much time I have been here, I fell in love with it the moment Joyce greeted me in Bungoma and brought me back to Kabula. She was so friendly and made me feel right at home. Then I met my family and they are beyond wonderful!!!!!
The family I stay with, the Lubangas, run a ministry called ICODEI. They have volunteers come in from all around the world to help in the areas of education, medical, and micro finance. Usually when student teachers come here there are other volunteers staying on the farm as well, but lucky lucky me I am the only volunteer on the farm right now (which I really couldn't be happier about!). Another volunteer is signed up to come in April, but they haven't confirmed for sure yet. For now I am treasuring the time I get the Lubangas all to myself :)
I am going to try and make this kind of short because I know people hate it when blogs get too long and then nobody ends up actually reading them, but rather just skimming them. So we are desperately in need of rain! They usually start planting in February but they still haven't begun because there has been no rain! We pray every night for God to open up the floodgates on Kenya and yesterday we saw Him be faithful. Even now as I am typing this I hear thunder roaring in the distance and it make me very excited and in the mood of praising God. If it continues to rain through the rest of the week, Mama Betty said we will begin planting this weekend. I am excited to learn how to farm as a Kenyan (although it is not my intent, I was informed the if I want a Kenyan husband I will need to learn how to farm.)
The school, the school, I have forgotten to write about the school. It is so different than my school I was teaching at in Bloomington, but it is really great! They are both great in different ways. The students love being at school. The structure is very different. There isn't one teacher for one class, but all the teachers teach the different classes and different subjects in the different grades. Like me, I am teaching English in class 1. (similar to 1st grade), math and creative arts in class 3, and English in class 4. It is kind of hard for the students in class 1 to understand me because they are still just learning English, but I think it is good for me as a teacher to figure out how to communicate and teach in a way that will help them grow. All the kids are wonderful and have captured my heart (despite the fact that they are still warming up to me). Relationships between students and teachers are a bit more formal than I am used to (especially being a kindergarten teacher in the states). I am adjusting and learning though and that is always a good thing.
The last thing I will talk about is the teachers- they are fantastic and hysterical. They love cracking jokes and have been so friendly to me. I always have a good laugh every day so that is definitely a positive thing. The school environment is good and they make it a very happy place for me to be. They are also very willing to teach me about Kenyan culture and ask me questions about America. These discussions are full of laughter, surprise, and learning. I feel very blessed to be able to have them.
So really I have only scratched the very surface of my time here so far. So much has happened and I have learned so much that I feel like I have been here for a life time. God is doing good things in my heart and mind as well. I am witnessing His faithfulness and goodness daily as well as continually be refined more and more into His image for the sake of His kingdom. The Lubangas have been such an encouragement to me and I could sit and talk with them for hours about God. Really it is a gift from God to have such wonderful fellowship while I am so far from where I come from. The kingdom is here and now and is all around us and I am learning that more and more each day.

Grace, Peace, and Love,
Anna

Leaving for Kenya

Off to Kenya today!  It really doesn't seem like a reality!  I have been talking about this since my junior year of high school and now it's actually here.

I'm excited to share my experience with all of you who end up reading this.  Some of you asked for my mailing address while I was there, so here it is:

Anna Wellemeyer
c/o Reuben Lubanga
ICODEI
P.O. Box 459
Bungoma , Kenya
50200
East Africa

Letters take about 2 weeks to get there.  I love mail :) but no packages because the mail system is so unreliable.

Ok love you all.  Sorry this is so short but I have some last minute cleaning and packing to do!

The end and the beginning

So, I have been meaning to write this post for some time now, but every time I sat down to do it, something just didn't seem right.  I think  now is as good of a time as any to finally write it.

While I was in Nigeria God made it very clear to me that I was to go back on a year long STINT.  I will tell that story later, but I just wanted everyone to know that I am going back in September!  Today though, I wanted to share my first journal entry I wrote back in the States.

(written on August 1, 2011)

It seems surreal to be back in Haslett sitting up in the tree overlooking the pond.  The melody of the birds here is harmonized by crickets chirping rather than cows mooing or young Fulani shepherds singing.  When I look up I expect to see a herd of cows grazing the land.  Surprisingly my backyard resembles the Nigerian bush during rainy season (minus the magnificent rocks!)...

Here are some of my thoughts from today:
TIA.  It is a phrase used int he movie Blood Diamond meaning "This is Africa."  It was commonly used during the trip when power went out, when we saw something ridiculous happening while driving, or when something went wrong.  For some reason the phrase and how it was used always rubbed me the wrong way.  It was like something was painfully churning on the inside whenever I heard it.  It leaves very little room for hope.  It was always used with a somewhat negative or "strange" connotation.  It seems to carry the meaning that Africa is a land where nothing goes right.

Then I think of us using it.  Yes, we were in Africa. We lived an African reality – but an African reality as a bature (white person, a foreigner).  Other Africans don't have kids flock to them when they enter a village.  They don't get their picture taken with a pro soccer team while mobs of people try and squeeze in with them.  They don't get invited to a dinner at the governor's house after only being in the country 5 weeks. And they don't get to stroll through security while everyone else gets asked for their passport. It somewhat frustrates me that yes, I got to experience the reality of Africa, but I only got to experience it as a person with white skin from America.

Yet I am still so appreciative of the Nigerian reality I got to experience and live in.  I now have friends who live in mud-block homes with a mattress on the floor that is filled at night with an entire family.  I know children whose parents keep them home from school to farm.  I know children who walk an hour just to go to school.  I know women who work their tails off farming and selling things at the market so they can scrape up enough money to send their children to school.  I know by name and voice children whose parents have died of AIDS.  I know an orphan who has no idea where her brother and sister are.


I also know women who sing praises to God while chopping vegetables to cook Jollof rice over the fire.  I know young men who give up their days to collect firewood and farm for widows, hang up mosquito nets for members of their community who don't have any, and coach futbol for young kids while teaching them about Jesus.  I know people who dance down the aisle to African drums while tithing.  I know widows who love to laugh and dance praising the Lord.  I know women hungry for the Word of the Lord.  I know families that have welcomed orphans into their homes when they barely have enough living space for themselves.  I know teenagers who desire to be the first ones in their families to ever finish secondary school and go on to the university.

TIA, the way I know it, is a place where yes, things may not always go as planned, and yes, there is not an abundance of material things, but it is a place where there is a dependence on God and a place full of hope.  A place full of potential to look a lot more like the kingdom of God.  That is my prayer for the phrase TIA.  That one day it won't be used when the power goes out or you see a guy slip a policeman 50 Naira as he rolls through the checkpoint.  Instead, you see a youth collecting firewood for a widow and your reaction is "Of course, TIA."  You hear of a community putting their funds together to send all the children to school – "Of course, TIA."  You see people living in peace, freedom, and the love of Christ – "Of course, TIA."

Reality colliding with Facts

(excerpt from a journal entry written July 21, 2011)

    Yesterday as I sat on the rocks overlooking the village I was praying and watching a small Fulani shepherd child tending to his cattle.  I had a moment of deep reality revelation/realization.  I was sitting there watching this little boy, who couldn't have been more than 9 years old, in his every-day life.  I was spying on this little boy's reality.  All he knows is spending his days roaming around grasslands with his family's cows and his stick.  He has so much time to exist and think, but what does he think about?  He doesn't go to school, so have his critical thinking skills developed?  What all does he have to think about when his life experiences consist of roaming around with cows everyday?  If he is Fulani, he most likely doesn't know Jesus.  Oh, how I wish He knew the Lord so he could spend his days praising Him, and talking with Him, and listening to Him.
    He started singing and his voice carried to me of the reality we were living in.  I was sitting on a pile of rocks halfway around the world from where I was born watching a boy that was a part of the statistics that so often tear away at my heart live his every-day life.  He is one of millions of children that don't go to school because either his family can't afford it, they need his help with the cattle, or they don't see any value in it.

My view as I was praying that day

    Here was the image colliding brutally with the facts.  Here I was in the same proximity as the child that God has placed on my heart and I was shocked and filled with compassion at the same time.  I was shocked that I have spent 5 and a half weeks seeing these children everyday (even sometimes annoyed when they were being so noisy outside the Ed Center that my students couldn't concentrate) and this was the first time I was hit with this reality.  I was shocked at my helplessness and the huge mountain that is access to education for all children.  But God says with the faith of a mustard seed we can move the mountains.
    Even so, what is and education if these kids don't know their Creator and Savior?  I sit at the village church praying that all of the people could learn how to read and think critically so that they can study the Word of the Lord.  Then I look at the Fulani boy who has no formal education and no relationship with Jesus and I am paralyzed in my mind.  Then I think about how in 1 Corinthians it says that the wisdom of the Lord makes man's wisdom look like foolishness.  God is big enough to reveal His truths to whomever He pleases.  He uses the weak to shame the strong. Yet, at the same time He has given us His word as well...
   I believe that in the end God will completely heal, redeem, reconcile, and restore His creation.  I believe that He is doing that even now.  I get so overwhelmed when I think of the big picture and the brokenness of the world.  I think I need to focus on where God is leading me in this moment, like Abraham... God is faithful and will take care of all of His creation.

Tooth Ache

(excerpt from a journal entry written on July 6, 2011)

     Today at the Ed Center one of the students, Kabo, came in and right away I could tell that something was wrong.  His face was downcast and there was no trace of a smile or sparkle in his eyes which is almost always there.  When I asked him if something was wrong he slightly shook his head no and walked to the other classroom to carry his things while I went on setting up the room for class.  A few minutes later Theresa walked in and asked if Esther would come and help translate because something was wrong with Kabo's tooth and he was crying.  I stayed back for a few minutes because I didn't want to overwhelm him.
     When I went out he was lying face-down on the wooden bench with a small pool of tears collecting near his face.  The other kids were playing around him so I took them away to play so Kabo could have some space.  (Side-note: during this time I was playing ball with Happy and Israel. This was the only time I played ball with Happy.  On my last day teaching all the students gave me a picture they had drawn of their favorite thing that we had done together and Happy's was playing ball!)

This is Kabo with his beautiful smile! I'm just
glad his rotten tooth was in the back so they
didn't have to pull one of his teeth that show
when he smiles.

     Meanwhile, Theresa was trying to figure out what the best thing to do was.  A few minutes later she called me over and we prayed over Kabo with Israel and Happy.  We prayed for healing for Kabo's rotten tooth and for God to take the pain away.  We prayed that somehow God would use this pain for His glory.
     After that Theresa went back inside to talk with Esther about what should be done while I remained outside rubbing Kabo's back, comforting him, and continuing to pray for him until he finally sat up.  When he did there were still huge alligator tears falling from his eyes.  I sat with him, rubbing his back, while the other kids were braiding my hair (aka twisting it and making knots which almost brought tears to my eyes haha).  I felt a small nudge to ask the children if they wanted to pray for Kabo. They said yes.  After a few quiet and shy moments, Esther (the student) finally prayed for Kabo in Hausa.  I don't know exactly what she said, but it was such a beautiful moment watching these children gather around their classmate, friend, and brother seeking the Lord on his behalf.
     I am so grateful to have been given this experience that I know brought glory to the Lord.  I desire so deeply for these children to know the love their heavenly Father has for them and the peace that He can give them.  I want them to know and experience El Roi, the God who sees.  I want them to know and experience Jehovah Rapha, the God who Heals.  I want them to know they have a God who is faithful and promises to never leave them nor forsake them.

P.S. God is faithful and answered our prayers by taking away Kabo's pain until Back2Back staff was able to take Kabo to the hospital a few days later where he got his tooth pulled.

Back in de USA

Hello friends!
     I'm [kinda] sorry that I didn't post more often while I was in NIgeria!  I did not want to spend all of my nights in Africa sitting at a computer trying to get a blog to post... I hope you all can understand.  However, I did spend some time at night journaling.  Over the next few days I am going to publish some of my journal entries.  So, let's rewind time a little and pretend like it is still July and I am still in NIgeria (Oh! How such a huge part of me wishes that could actually be true!!!)
Also, quick side note: I have posted some pictures from my trip on the photo website posted on the sidebar of my blog. Enjoy :)

Mosquito Net Joy

It’s amazing how much joy a simple mosquito net can evoke.  I think the mosquito net companies should use this as their slogan: “one net, a million smiles”… or something like that.  Today we joined the staff and some youth in the village in putting up mosquito nets in the widows’ homes.  It was my first time entering any of the homes in the village.  I still don’t quite know how to react, or even what my reaction is yet. 

Seeing homes like this in pictures in magazines or on late-night commercials for “Save the Children” is very different than actually experiencing them with the people that live in them.  It’s very odd, but it seemed so normal yet appalling all at the same time.  There is one house of a woman named Theresa that has particularly stuck with me.  The small room was speckled with lights that were sprinkling in through the holes in the hundreds of tiny holes in the tin roof strapped to skinny rough wooden rafters covered in wasp nests.  There was one makeshift metal bed with a thin blanket and a small bench.  As I was standing on the corner of the unstable metal frame of the widow’s bed I was having a hard time wrapping my mind and heart around what I was experiencing. I don’t have much more to say about that because I don’t really have any words yet to articulate what I want to.

Theresa (right) and another widow we hung up nets for

After hanging up the mosquito nets we prayed with each of widows.  We prayed for provision, for joy, for healing, for protection, and for the Spirit of God to dwell in their homes and in the village.  We prayed prayers of praise for their lives and for what God is doing in and through them.

There is another widow that is stuck in my mind as I am writing this.  She is the grandmother of one of the students at the education center and a true kindred spirit.  When we first arrived to her family’s home she wasn’t there so the family went to go get her.  As soon as she came around the corner and into our view she started stomping her worn, disfigured feet, dancing and raising her arms up to heaven.  I was standing closest to her and so she came up and embraced me saying “mun gode, mun gode Allah” “We thank you, we thank you God” over and over again into my ear.  Then she continued on with her dancing, stomping, smiling, and praising God.  Her joy was such a testament to God’s goodness.

My prayer tonight as I sit here writing this while the widows are sleeping now protected by their new mosquito nets is that they will be praying prayers of praise to Jehovah Jireh.  I pray they will know the love of their Father.  That they will know the grace of their Savior.  That they are being restored and redeemed – reconciled back to their Creator.  I am praying prayers of thanksgiving that we serve a God who sees the forgotten and will raise up the poor to a place of honor.

Grace, Peace, and Love