top 5: best memories from 36+ hours and 8,000 miles of travel.

One of my (top 5) favorite things to do is make Top 5 lists. I make them for pretty much everything. (For instance- Top 5 best names of US presidents- that kind of thing.) I don't know why I do it, but I guess it beats biting my nails or collecting stamps. So anyway. I compiled one this week as I made my way from one side of the world to the other because, ironically, I didn't have much else to do.

(In chronological order)
1. The late-50's bear-of-a-man next to me on my overnight flight falling asleep on my shoulder. Multiple times. (Ok, disclaimer: sometimes I employ sarcasm in the Top 5 as a coping mechanism, but all the rest are serious.)

2. Reading Wendell Berry's Window Poems in the Amsterdam airport at 6 am- wrapped in the awesome blanket I stole from my KLM flight, with a Dutch coffee, as it poured the rain outside, planes shuttled in and out of bays, and people were everywhere, scurrying around. Here's an excerpt from "Window Poem #5":

Look in
and see him looking out.
He is not always
quiet, but there have been times
when happiness has come
to him, unasked,
like the stillness on the water
that holds the evening clear
while it subsides
- and he let go
what he was not.

3. Learning in SkyMiles magazine that jousting has made a comeback as a recreational sport in recent years! I was pretty excited about that. I also learned there are all kinds of jousting now, along with the traditional medieval kind- including (get ready!)...bicycle jousting. I would love to see this. Or participate.

4. On my flight from Amsterdam to Detroit, the "inflight entertainment" was a little mischievous. Every time you selected a movie to watch, some other movie you hadn't selected started playing, usually in Chinese or Spanish. It became a game to me, trying to find the movie I actually wanted to watch, and instead being surprised by a lot of hilarious, strange things. At one point though, someone in First Class "happened across an adult film" (as the stewardess explained over the intercom), and because it somehow then began playing on everyone's personal screens, the entire system was immediately shut down. It was mayhem for awhile, as I'm sure you can imagine. Small children crying, their parents furious and fuming, old women scandalized. The poor stewardesses.

5. Flying through a terrifying lightning-and-rain storm from Detroit to Canton and seriously wondering whether I was actually going to make it home- only to arrive safely and find my parents waiting for me, at the end of (what I'm convinced is) the longest hallway ever constructed, with a bouquet of roses.

.you have our faith with our bodies.

You have our trust, Father,
and our faith,
with our bodies
and all that we are and posses.

Father, help us to do with our bodies what we proclaim,
that our faith be known to you
and to others,
and be effective in all the world.

-excerpt from a prayer by the Masai in Tanzania-

(Disclaimer: this will be a long entry, but it may also be interesting.)

How do I even begin to tell you about the last week and a half? This prayer seems a good starting point, as it's become very important to me these last weeks, as I've read it over and over again since July 1st. Without being too dramatic, I think I can safely say that on July 1st my life changed forever. Maybe someday I'll feel differently, but my life seems divided into two eras now- pre-July 1st, 2011, and post-July 1st, 2011.

After work on July 1st, I went to Rossyln, a private school in town, to exercise with my roommates. Nothing at all out of the ordinary, except that while we were there I unexpectedly suffered a severe seizure and was rushed to the ER. My life since has been surreal and unrecognizable to me- a series of doctor's appointments, brain scans, blood tests, and big, hard, life-altering decisions. I can't believe it's been so long since everything happened- it feels like one long day. I've only just begun to recover from the side-effects of the seizure, and have finally begun to feel somewhat like myself again.

I spent July 4th in a neurologist's office, and after an hour's conversation Dr. Hooker (lovely name, and my new favorite person) diagnosed me with epilepsy. I've since had multiple tests which confirmed his diagnosis and have catapulted me into a world I know nothing about- after a CT Scan, MRI, EEG and ECG, we learned that I have a very rare developmental brain disorder called "periventricular heterotopia". If you're dying to know more, keep reading. =)

Apparently, this condition forms during a person's early development in the womb, and the cause is completely unknown. As best I can understand, parts of my brain that were meant to move to the outer cortex during development never did, and instead took up residence in my inner brain, in the fluid-filled areas where no brain matter is supposed to live. Thus, somehow, mysteriously, seizures. This condition is usually, but not always, hereditary. The bad news is- because it's developmental and probably genetic, it will never go away. I will have epilepsy for the rest of my life. I will be on medication for the rest of my life. But there's good news too- the condition doesn't require surgery. The out-of-place "gray matter", as the doctor called it, will never grow or morph or become life-threatening. (Very good news.)

This has been a lot to digest, especially for someone who can count on two hands (maybe one) the times she's been to the doctor. I've realized in the last week how little of my life I spent thinking, worrying or caring about my body. As most of you know, I've had what I self-diagnosed as "night terrors" for at least 6 years. It was kind of a joke with my friends- "Hannah's weird night episodes"- but several people encouraged me to have them checked out, and I never did. As it turns out, I should have, because I've actually been having seizures in my sleep for the last 6 years. (Jeremiah- I deserve an "I told you so" from you especially. =)

So. I'm coming home, to learn to accept and understand my diagnosis. It was a hard decision; neither coming home nor staying here for the next few months seemed wholly satisfactory. I want to be here- I love MOHI, I love Mathare Valley; there are so many pictures yet to take, and so many good, untold stories. But I want to be fully present here while I'm here, and I can't be right now. And there's something about learning you have a chronic illness that makes you ache for the familiarity and safety of home. When your own body suddenly becomes a mystery, an unknown to you, everything seems unknown, and the need for something known becomes ever-present and urgent. I need to come home, and learn how my world still makes sense. I need a big, long hug from my mom, I need to work in the New Seeds garden, I need to be at Hopwood, and I need to be able to cry on some of your shoulders as I struggle to understand what it means to live with a chronic illness. (I'm also hoping to have a Lifetime original movie made about me. Just kidding...maybe. =)

There's a good possibility that I'll be able to return to Kenya in September, after taking the next few months to adjust. If I receive medical clearance from an American doctor, CMF sees no reason why I couldn't return. And the possibility of being able to return is greater since I already have a good neurologist and have gotten my first few months' worth of medication here.

Although the last week and a half has been traumatic, my overwhelming feeling is one of thankfulness. God is so faithful, and He's teaching me so much. He has made His presence known to me in unmistakable ways. He's placed good people around me to cushion the blow, so to speak- to protect and encourage me. He's ordained my steps throughout this whole process- leading me to a good, kind doctor, and granting me time and space to recover from the trauma. He's impressed on me the need to take care of myself, and has given me peace about the decision to return home. He's also given me a strange peace about, and a new love for my body, the body He created, mysteriously, with epilepsy.

A few nights ago I was reading Psalm 139, and I broke down, because I realized that for some strange reason I believe it more deeply now than I ever did before:

You hem me in- behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me. (vs 5)

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be. (vs 13-16)

some catch-up.

I've been slacking big time on adding photos, so I'm trying to make up for it now. The photos above are some of the work I did for the Micro-finance Dept during my first week at MOHI. Below are a few from the medical camp CHE held last week.

There are many more pictures to come, but I think for now I'll end with these twins, Patrick and John, and their monogram sweaters.

for the awesome wasems.

One day I walked imagining
What work I might do here,
The place, once dark, made clear
By work and thought, my managing,
The world thus made more dear.
I walked and dreamed, the sun in clouds,
Dreamer and day at odds.

The world in its great mystery
Was hidden by my dream.
Today I make no claim;
I dream of what is here, the tree
Beside the falling stream,
The stone, the light upon the stone;
And day and dream are one.
-Wendell Berry, Sabbath Poems-1989 (VIII)

Thanks to the Awesome Wasems (Jane and Tim), I have this beautiful poem with me in Kenya- and how glad I was to come upon it in my reading today. It expresses very well something of how I've been feeling about my work since I've been here- the need I've felt for dreams I had before coming to be brought into alignment with what the place in its actuality requires, needs, and demands. The two are not necessarily at odds, but I feel strongly these days both the newness and unfamiliarity of what I have come to be a part of, and a lingering uncertainty, both of myself and of how I will fit here.

But this poem fills me with the hope that if I am patient and attentive, in time the place, in all its mystery and intricacy, will open itself to me and reveal to me my belonging, how I fit- and not only how I can best serve and help, but also how I can be changed, stretched, and grown. I have always loved Berry's emphasis on the truth that we must be molded by our place, instead of vice versa- now I find myself very much challenged by the idea- both excited and scared for the ways in which I'll be formed by this place.

God is teaching me so much already here- about being assertive, imaginative, and confident- both in the abilities He's given me, and in the strength He provides when we are unequal to the task. The Kenyan workers at MOHI are such a model of this, and they assume and expect it of me and the other American workers. It's terrifying to me, but also freeing and exhilarating. My prayer is that God gives me the vision to see what needs done, and the strength to do what I can do, until, as Berry says, "day and dream are one".

PS- pictures to come soon, I promise.

a well-watered garden.

I've been very comforted by the book of Isaiah since I've been here, so I'd like to share a few 'cerpts (that's short for excerpts).

This is what the Lord says-
he who has made a way through the sea,
a path through the mighty waters...
"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland...
to give drink to my people, my chosen,
the people I formed for myself
that they may proclaim my praise." (43:16, 18-19, 21)

...if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will become like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail. (58:10-11)

These two sections have become my prayer for myself- that God would give me the patience, strength and peace to be fully present with the people here; and that in doing so, I might learn and experience God more deeply, and be satisfied in that. Please pray this with me!

ol' alfred.

A little snippet of Alfred, Lord Tennyson coming at you, courtesy of the Benjamin Lee.

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
- from Ulysses

dirty feet.

I was in a bad mood yesterday. I had been inside all day editing photos for MOHI, and I wasn't feeling well. I didn't go out into the slums all day (a first), and I think that made it easier for me to feel sorry for myself, to be stuck in my head. And so I got home, and I was just feeling trapped in my head, in my life here; I was angry- the kind of anger you experience when you feel helpless, lost- when you don't know where home is anymore, or when you know you can't go back to it, can't reach it.

So I went for a walk. I've been wanting to visit this church in the neighborhood, so I decided to try and find some place there to pray, to find some quiet. When I got there, a group of neighborhood boys were playing soccer with a half-deflated ball in the churchyard. I almost didn't go in; I wasn't in the mood to struggle through an awkward cultural exchange. But something made me go in the gate, and as soon as I did one of the older boys ran up and asked if I'd like to play ball with them. I have to admit I was nervous- I hadn't played soccer in a long time, let alone with a bunch of young guys who play all the time. I knew I was going to make a fool of myself.

But I took off my shoes, and started playing. And it was, somehow, exactly what I needed. We couldn't really communicate, but I haven't laughed that much in a long time. Every time I messed up they all howled with laughter, but I was amazed by how they continued to include me. I was even more amazed that I scored a few goals (which was probably them being nice as well)! When I left they asked me to come back again sometime. It was maybe the best hour I've spent here, and a gift of grace. It reminded me that God is faithful and attentive to my needs, and that I must continue to trust my life to Him, to open myself to the unexpectedness of His grace in this new place and people.

The kids at MOHI sing a song that goes, "I am not forgotten, God knows my name." The hope and belief that God is with us intimately, that he knows us each by name, runs deep here, and it has been shaking and challenging my faith since I arrived. I have been struggling to believe it about myself, and my life here. But I was reminded of the song last night while playing soccer with a bunch of guys I had never met; in some strange way, I felt seen, cared for, covered over.

subira. (patience.)

Faith incorporates the unknown into our everyday life in a living, dynamic and actual manner. The unknown remains unknown. It is still a mystery, for it cannot cease to be one. The function of faith is not to reduce mystery to rational clarity, but to integrate the unknown and the known together in a living whole, in which we are more and more able to transcend the limitations of our external self.
-Thomas Merton-

slowly by slowly.

My prayers were answered today. Like I said in the last post, I've been wondering how I fit into the work at MOHI. Even before coming here, I had been praying that I would be open to doing whatever they needed me to do, but I was really hoping to do photography and writing.

After spending last week touring the different departments, we were asked where we wanted to be placed. Throughout the week I had realized the work I was originally hoping to do would fit well in several departments. But because of miscommunication (ie cultural language differences, silly timidity on my part) MOHI was going to place me in the Education Dept, helping kids learn to write and read English better. I wanted to be open to it, but honestly, the idea terrified me. I've never taught before, and although I like to write, I wouldn't know the first thing about teaching writing to Kenyan children. It had me pretty stressed out, and wondering if I would get to do the kind of work I had hoped to do here, as well as feeling guilty that I maybe wasn't being open to trying new things.

I finally decided to just talk to Mary (the creator/head of MOHI) about it. (I sometimes forget I can clear things up through simple conversation.) And it was wonderful; she was so understanding and encouraging. Through a few more meetings today, it's been decided that I'll float around to different departments (CHE, Social Work, Micro-finance)- going on home visits, making friends, learning Kiswahili- and in the process I'll be taking pictures and learning/writing peoples' incredible stories. I'll get to do this throughout MOHI's ten area centers in Mathare Valley, spending 2-3 weeks in each area. I'll probably be given one day a week to edit photos and write. It couldn't be more perfect for me. And even better, I found out today that this is a need many MOHI workers have seen- the need for someone to be documenting the transformative power of Christ at work in people's lives in Mathare.

So I will take my camera to work tomorrow for the first time, and I'll be traveling to a few Mathare communities for the Micro-finance Dept. I am so excited to start working! I'm sure the next six months will be filled with hard work, probably harder than I'm anticipating- but I am at peace now, knowing I'll be doing work that not only fulfills me, but also helps to fill a need within MOHI. Win-Win.

2 corinthians 12:8-10

*Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness". Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.*

I went on a home visit today as part of my introduction to the Spiritual Development Department at MOHI. We visited a woman named Lydia, and she had a Swahili Bible opened on her coffee table. We asked if she would read us a few verses, and so she read us 2 Corinthians 12:8-10 in Swahili.

When I got home tonight I read it in English, and it killed me. I've been confronted a lot in the last few days with what I perceive to be my weaknesses, my inadequacies and insecurities. I have been overwhelmed by how incredible the work being done at MOHI is, but I've been having a hard time understanding how I will/do fit into the picture. I feel very, very weak right now. I'm not sure what I have to offer, or if what I have to offer is what's most needed here. Everyone I've met is so inspiring, but within my own spirit I feel very unimaginative.

Reading these verses tonight encouraged me, and helped me see that my focus has been off. What, after all, have I come here to do, or to be? I have come because I want to be a witness to Christ's work in my life and in the world, and likewise to experience Christ in the people I meet, and to learn from them how to be a better witness. And I've been promised that He is made evident in my weakness.

yawns.

I've been so sleepy this week- residual jetlag, new culture, waking up at 6 am every morning. So this morning I yawned during an orientation session- I 'd been stifling them all morning, and this one I just couldn't keep in. We (myself and the three other apprentices) were being introduced to the HR department at MOHI. The HR woman, Esther, upon seeing my stifled yawn, immediately stopped her presentation and said, "Oh, we haven't even asked if you will take chai! We must get chai!" The session was postponed as a woman was sent to get chai for us. She came back with chai and samosas (small triangular pastries filled with meat- so good!).

All week, in fact, whenever I've happened to yawn, the immediate question posed is always, "Are you hungry?" or "Oh, have you taken lunch?". I've of course responded with, "No, no, I'm just tired." And this has been followed by confused looks all around.

So I've been slowly realizing that there must be some connection between yawning and hunger here. Today I asked Esther, while chai was being fetched for us. It turns out that in Kenya, when you yawn, it is immediately assumed that you're hungry! Why?, I wanted to know. Esther had no idea. It was a funny few minutes as we talked about the cultural assumptions behind yawning.

It brought questions to mind- like, do people actually yawn for different reasons in different cultures, or do the cultural assumptions just vary? And if something as simple as yawning can be interpreted so differently, what else might be? I'm overwhelmed by the reminder that everything I do is sending signals to the people around me, and more often than not is probably being interpreted much differently than I mean it to be. This isn't exactly news (this happens every day even within my own culture), but the knowledge has definitely intensified in this last week.

But today a man named Henry in MOHI's Accounting Dept (we toured it this afternoon), asked me if I had ever been to Kenya before, because he felt that I was Kenyan. I can't imagine a more wonderful compliment. After that, all the questions and insecurities I'd had from the yawning incident just melted away. I am learning more every day how gracious, forgiving and hospitable the people are with whom I've come to live and work.

nairobi traffic laws explained.

So, after three days of driving in Nairobi, I feel ready to make a few guesses at what Kenyans learn in driving school. I've compiled a list of general Dos and Don'ts that I believe Kenyan motorists are taught, based on my experience. (This list will be ongoing, I'm sure, as I continue the adventure that is driving in Nairobi.) It's counter-intuitive to everything I thought I knew about good driving. (But, let's face it, how much did I really know about that anyway?) So without further ado...

Don'ts:
1. Don't ever, ever, EVER use your turn signal (or "indicator", as it's called here).
2. Lanes are a fiction. Don't abide by them.
3. Don't you dare brake for other cars, bicyclists, pedestrians with large and heavy loads, or even small children, or chickens. It's their responsibility to get out of your way.
4. Do not, under any circumstances, leave more than 2 mm between your car and the car in front of you.

Dos:
1. Do feel free to pass the car in front of you from either the right-hand lane, or on the dangerously narrow dirt shoulder to their left.
2. If a car is already passing them on the right side, please do pass them simultaneously on the left shoulder. This will create a safe and happy environment for the car in the middle (ie me), and for everyone really.
3. Do cut off anyone you like. Remember, it's others' responsibility to get out of your way.
4. If there is more than a few millimeters between two cars, do shove your way into the mix. It will be fun.
5. Do pull out in front of oncoming traffic. They won't hit you.
6. Do "hoot" (new vocab word for me!) your car horn at all times. I mean, why not? It's fun.
7. Do drive down the very middle of the road at top speed, especially when a car is driving toward you in their proper lane and trying to not die in an accident.

Everything on this list has happened to me in the past three days. It's been a tad bit traumatic, but it's also been a good introduction into this new place and people. I have had to face, in all-too tangible ways, the knowledge that is sometimes hard to get my mind around and would therefore be easier to not face- that I am in a culture very, very different from the one I've come from. And I've been reminded- (and this is the most important thing to keep remembering)- that I have come here to listen and learn, but also just to jump in headfirst, to not be afraid of making mistakes and looking foolish.

Today driving to work, I successfully fought my way in between a matatu (Kenya's sorry excuse for public transportation, and hands-down the worst drivers on the road) and a lori (18-wheeler) to make the turn I needed. It was an empowering moment- driving in Nairobi might actually suit me.

kenya, first morning.

This is the image I woke up to this morning, late morning. It took me just a second to remember where I was- waking inside a mosquito net always does make me feel like I'm waking up inside some sort of dream. There are those far away morning sounds too- dogs barking outside, kids playing somewhere downstairs- that only add to my feeling of waking dream.
And it is a dream, really, to be waking up in Kenya, inside a mosquito net.

I need a shower (real bad) and some hot tea.

color

trying to get this font color...

Peanut Butter Milkshakes

i love them.

Leavin on a jet plane

Can't believe it's tuesday and i'm going to kung fu in just a little bit for the last time. then the baders are storming johnson city. crazy.