Because sometimes I need a reminder...

I have a tendency to get caught up in the pre-trip stress and lose sight of the goal.  So, for those on my team who need a reminder, and for those of you who wonder just why I do this:

              

A lot of these pictures weren't taken by me, but by the TSE photographers I mentioned in a previous blog entry.  The pumoy (Krio for "white folk") pictured here are various team members who've traveled to Bo as well.  This one is for those of you who'd like to be able to picture where I am and whom I'm with.

Anticipation...

We depart for Africa in less than one week.  It's been hard to think of a blog entry - there are so many things on my mind that I could write about, but most of them are more fit for my private journal than for a public blog.  My emotional state is a roller coaster - I wake up at 3 am literally in a sweat over all that I hope to accomplish and just the responsibility of leading a team for the first time - but there are also moments when I reflect on what it will feel like to step off of that bus and put my feet back on African soil - and to put my arms around those kids again. 

Travel to Bo is hard.  When they perfect "beaming" (a la Star Trek), I'll be Bo-bound much more often.  The truth is, I don't love to travel.  I hate flying, and I'm really just a big homebody.  Travel is a hassle -the laundry, the packing, the hauling of heavy luggage, jet lag, sleeping in strange beds, eating strange food, meeting new people, the work, the return home, and then more laundry and jet lag.  Travel to Bo is like a whole level of travel difficulty beyond what Westerners are used to.  It's roughly 5-6 hours to Heathrow, then another 7 hours to Lungi Airport.  Then the two hour ferry ride from Lungi to Freetown followed by the four hour bus ride to Bo.  When it's all said and done, it takes two days to get from VA to Bo.  Two days of sitting upright in uncomfortable airline seats and bus seats (broken up by one night in the airport hotel), fighting jetlag and trying to sleep.  Surrounded by nothing at all familiar.

At this stage of the pre-trip journey, I always, always feel such anxiety and stress.  Even on trip three, it just doesn't feel routine.  There's so much to prepare, so much to think about, so many lists to check and doublecheck.  Whenever we travel anywhere domestically, my husband always says "stop worrying about forgetting something, we can always get whatever it is when we get there; it's not like we're going to a third world country or something."  Except, this time - I am.  Even knowing that I've traveled there before, very successfully - doesn't seem to alleviate the stress.

What's nice, is that I know from experience that once we set foot on that plane - and eventually in Sierra Leonean soil, some of that stress will evaporate.  At a certain point, the plan gets set in motion, and the momentum carries you forward.  And I also know that the minute I can get one of those kids in a hug I will remember down to my soul how very, very worth it this trip is.  Counting the days....

Servanthood & Thoughts about Sierra Leone….(the state of affairs on 2/23 at 6:15 p.m.)

by Mary Marshall, guest blogger

First of all, a bit of background on me: I’m a completely self-centered traveler. So, you may ask, why exactly are you going as a member of a team on a mission trip to work with a bunch of kids? Indeed, that is an excellent question. I love to travel and have been loads of really interesting places, but I always have an agenda (although part of my agenda is to schedule time not to have an agenda) and it’s usually (okay, always) about fulfilling my own desires. Point being, in traveling to Sierra Leone in this particular fashion, I’m out of my element.


How did I end up in this state of affairs? Well, after hearing about my good friend Laura’s experiences and at her request (seeing as she’s team leader this time), I applied for this trip. Somewhat to my dismay, I was accepted! Immediately, my thoughts turned to me (surprise, surprise): What if people snore? I wonder if they have Diet Coke? Will I be able to take naps? Will there be time to read my novel? What touristy activities can I do while I’m there? Can I get away with not wearing a name-tag? Are we going to have to stick together in the airport? How can I avoid being labeled as a loud American if I’m with this group?

After confessing my issues to a pastor friend, I suggested that really it’s a total joke that I would even pretend to be a missions-minded individual interested in bettering the welfare of those who are less privileged than myself. Vicki, in turn, suggested that maybe there is nothing wrong with part of my motivation being just wanting to go to Sierra Leone and that, in fact, I might find that I was getting blessed rather than being the one to do the blessing. And, after all, who do I think I am to consider myself more privileged than another? (Although Vicki didn’t actually say this last part, she probably should have).

As the weeks have gone by and I now find myself a week and a half away from departure, I grow increasingly excited. I was recently challenged by listening to a presentation by Pastor Tom Berlin in which he touched on servanthood and what it might mean to be a “servant” in Sierra Leone. He suggested that rather than thinking I was bestowing some sort of knowledge or gift to the people with whom I come in contact, I look on it as a reciprocal relationship – we spend time together just being ourselves. And we will be in the presence of the Lord because He is there and His Holy Spirit dwells within me.

I then thought of Jesus’ commands: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. He says that there are no other commandments greater than these (Mark 12: 13). If I am after God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength, then I long to be in His presence and I choose to seek Him in all the minutes of my day. That means I look for Him and enjoy Him in Sierra Leone – in my interactions, in the conversations that take place, in the events that unfold, in the beauty of natural surroundings, in the quiet moments that I take to be alone with Him. I serve Him in glorying in His presence and inviting others to come into that space with me. By making room, I love them as I love myself. It’s not about slaving for hours in the broiling sun doing a construction project (although that might be part of the agenda) or not getting any sleep for 10 days (although there is that possibility as well). In other words, it’s not about performing certain hardship acts. Instead, it’s about consciously carving space for the work of Jesus and then getting out of the way so there’s room for Him. A true servant prepares for the presence of the master and yields to his desires – and a true master knows his servant’s skills and uses his servant to her best capacity. So I can trust that this trip has been ordained by God for my good and His glory – I will bless and be blessed because He put together this group for such a time as this before time even began. Talk about mind-boggling! But that’s a tangent for another day. Enough for now…

Guest Bloggers

One of the things my fellow, veteran blogger Ellen (A Reason to Write - India) suggested to me is to ask others to guest blog.  This is one of my favorite pieces of blogging advice as it gets me off the hook for writing, and lets you enjoy the talents of other writers (which will hopefully prevent you from getting bored and will make you keep reading my blog). 

Not sure what the proper ettiquette here is, but I feel like I want to introduce my first guest blogger and good friend Mary.  Mary is another member of my team, and it's a real full-circle moment for me, because in a lot of ways, Mary is a big part of what made me think I could go to Africa in the first place.  Although I'd always wanted to go visit the CRC, I never felt like it was in my cards - and then when, nearly five years ago it finally was - I thought I was the wrong person for the trip.  I was crippled by self-doubt.  Mary's words of encouragement helped convince me to make that leap - so to get to share this experience with her feels almost like saying thank you.  I hope at the end of the trip she feels the same way!

She'll be authoring the next entry (to follow shortly).  Thanks, Mary.  For the blogging, for the support, and for the friendship.

To Market, To Market

It's snowing in Northern Virginia.  A lot.  We had an actual blizzard last weekend that dumped about 20 inches of snow on us, and tonight we're receiving somewhere between 10 -20 more.  This is unusual for our area.  We usually get a few polite little snows, with the occasional foot once a season or so - but it's rare to get this kind of one-two punch.  People in this area are therefore a little...shall we say, reactionary - when we get this kind of record-breaking weather.  Typical response pre-storm?  Everyone rushes to the store to stock up on shovels, milk, bread, toilet paper, and ice cream.  (Yes, ice cream.  I don't why.  I'm from Florida.  I think the whole thing is bizarre).

We've been jokingly referring to this storm as "snowmageddon" or the "snowpocalypse," but to be honest, to go to any one of the area grocery stores the day before the first flake falls is like witnessing the end of days.  People behave as if they are unsure that they will ever see the inside of Giant again.  They fill carts and push their way into checkout lines, frantic to get out of the store with the last package of toilet paper before the snow falls. 

Today was even weirder.  Forced to go to Giant by the utter lack of food in my house, and caught between the storm that hit us this past weekend (so okay, we're out of food mostly because we hosted a giant Superbowl party too, but still - no food) and the one hitting us tonight, I found myself standing in a completely decimated produce section this morning.  I am literally in possesion of the very last tomato Giant had.  There was no chicken, no ground meat of any kind.  There was skim milk and soy milk, but that was it.  There were eggs, but no butter.  The strangest thing of all was the people.  The store the day before storm #1 hit was populated by rabid, mean, frantic and angry people fighting (literally) over the last package of Wonder bread.  The people in the store this morning looked like victims of the aftermath.  People wandered around as if in a daze.  It was oddly quiet.  No one seemed particularly upset that there were no onions or  chicken breasts.  They were just figuring out how to make do with what was left.  No onions?  Maybe leeks will work....

It reminded me of conversations I've had with Fudia, the wonderful cook of the MTC (Missionary Training Center) at the Child Rescue Centre (you do remember that this is a blog about my journey to Africa, right?).  After having been served some of the best pineapple I've ever eaten in my life, we asked her if we could have it again for dinner the next night.  She was apologetic on the following evening when pineapple was not on the table, explaining that it was "too dear" at the market that day.  Fudia doesn't buy food just because she (or we) wants a particular thing - she buys what is reasonably priced and she negotiates and balances nutritional needs with budget every time she goes to the market - which is every single day.  She may plan to cook chicken for dinner, but if it is too "dear" she will make do with cassava or fish.  She may plan to serve pineapple, but if they don't have any at the market, she will simply have to see what is. 

We live in a country where we take so much for granted.  If I want strawberries, I go across the street and buy them.  I don't pay much attention to the season, and often not even to the cost.  I bought a brisket today.  That's all they really had in the meat case.  I've never cooked a brisket before - I've never had to because they've always had things in the case I'm more familiar with cooking.  But I'm kind of excited by the challenge.  It makes me feel like maybe I'll appreciate how Fudia navigates the world a little bit more.

The Hard Part

Travel anywhere is difficult, as is preparing to travel.  Traveling to a third world country is an added layer of difficulty it's hard to describe.  Tomorrow I get to check in with the travel doctor.  International travelers (especially to places not considered to be "first world" countries) get to add this step to their travel preparations.  Usually this involves a consult with a doctor who specializes in the needs of Western travelers to other, more medically challenged parts of the world.  The doctor researches the diseases of the area, and then selects a host of immunizations and vaccinations (I don't know the difference between these two, I just realized) to give the traveler to prevent a variety of illnesses.

For a trip to Sierra Leone, that can mean around 5 injections, an anti-malaria medication, and Cipro to be taken as a preventative for foodborne illnesses (I'm not going to get specific here - you can figure out what I'm talking about).  That's the bad (ouch) news.  The good news for me this time is that I don't think I have to have any/many injections.  Having just been in SL in July, most of my shots are up-to-date.  There's a small chance I haven't had the follow-up shot for Hep B (can't remember) which isn't really required, but is suggested. 

It's amazing to me that I can just drive to the doctor's office, get a few shots, a few pills, and I'm protected from diseases that the average Sierra Leonean has no protection from.  Malaria kills tens of thousands of children in Sierra Leone, for example, adding to the highest childhood mortality rate in the world.  This disease is responsible for almost 40 percent of the deaths of children under the age of five.  Malaria.  A completely preventable disease.

I'll tell you one big thing you get by traveling to a third world country: a new apprecation for how incredibly blessed we are in this country.  I know health care in America is a mess, and that something (or many things) has to change, but I'd take our current health care debate over the issues of health care my friends in Sierra Leone face any day of the week.  The photo accompanying this post was taken by Alfreda Humper, a TSE photographer and resident of the Child Rescue Centre.  It is of Mercy Hospital a place where lives are saved on a daily basis - from many of these diseases.