Abortion.

This is a topic that I just won't change on. For me it is the silent holocaust around the world. It is the female genocide in Asia.

To me it will never be a 'right' to kill someone else.

I'm all riled up about this, not only because of it being an election year, and there's the whole supreme court justices, and the idea of Roe. V Wade ever being overturned...

But a close friend here in Kenya, someone who I greatly respect and admire, was being questioned about abortion by some of our mutual European friends...

To which she replied with how she had worked in the US social working scene before, and how she had seen these kids come in to the government system and their lives and case files, and emotional scars were so horrible, and their future so pointless and dead, that she couldn't help but think that if she were their mother, she would want them dead. If she could choose for them to die, she would. Just kill them now, and see them in 70 years in heaven.

***
I sat silent, staring at my food. My mouth dry, and I wanted to just be sick.

First let me preface the following with the fact that I do know that the US foster system, and system for kids is awful. It needs changed, it needs Jesus, it needs people who love and will adopt. Let me also say, that the only people I know who are willing to help out that system are Christians, deeply religious people, and a few homosexual couples.  Without getting into that can of worms, let me just say, I wish everyone had a spirit of adoption over their heart...

And here's where my heart and brain went:

 I have sat down with kids in an orphanages, held dying AIDS babies, and tried to reach child prostitues, like the 8 year old who only crawls on the floor with a blanket over her head. I have never thought to myself, "wow, I just wish their mother had aborted (killed) them."  The very idea of that, just makes me cry. 

Logically, I can 'get' how you would think that, but to think that... how separated can you be from the eyes of that child and the hope that Christ has for them and in them?

I'm not really looking for responses on this. Everyone has such passionate viewpoints, from every angle and every 'side' and every which way. I just wanted to say that I cannot ever say that it is okay for someone to kill someone else. And though I can understand that life would ever be so hopeless that people would want to, and that people would do it...

 I hear the words of my great grandmother Nellie when she had her 6th child, in the midst of the Great Depression. When there was famine, draught, and what looked like no future in front of them... she said when my great aunt was born,

"Her name is Hope, for where there is life.... there is always hope."


My great grandmother had it right.

"So, what does a normal day look like for you?"

The heading says it all.
                 
                          That question, "So, what does a normal day look like for you over there?".

It is asked at every gathering that I go to when I'm back "Stateside", and is always answered a bit differently. I try to be positive, I try to not sugar coat things, but not complain about things either. The truth of the matter is that while at 'home' it is often really hard to think of what my normal life looks like. I am on overdrive, overstimulated by all of the familiarity, culture, family, goodness, and excess that a visit Stateside can entail.

 Last week I had a somewhat normal week.

Here it is: 

 Sunday morning: We skip church to go on a hike up Mount Longonot. My husband has been wanting to do this for months now with me, as he has done it several times. We carry the kids on our backs in ergo's. I am so exhausted once I reach the top that I can barely appreciate the amazing view. Once I do come to my senses I am not longer exhausted but totally freaked out at the huge cliff drop offs and the idea that I brought my kids to the top of this thing. Lesson: hike Mount Longonot without your 1 and 3 year old.


 5pm Sunday night: Brown out. (this is where the power flicks on and off for a bit, and then doesn't come back fully on, but at half power. The lights are on, but very dim, the microwave won't work, the plugs (outlets) work but the fridge doesn't... you get the idea. Also, the city water hasn't turned on and so our tanks are almost empty. No laundry can be done, no toilet flushing till it does. (it ends up filling our tanks in the middle of the night).

 Monday morning: power is bouncing all over the place. Flickering, full power, brown out... and then by 9am goes completely off. It's a bad disco. Because it has been doing this we have no hot water (hot water heater isn't getting enough power to heat the water), and I have no shower. ick. Doris, our house helper looks like she's about to drop- and is, she was up all night 3 nights in a row helping our great friends' house helper have a baby. She's exhausted, and I can tell that she's getting sick. So I take the kids, do all the groceries and shopping with both of them in tow, and run a bunch of other errands while Doris can clean the house in peace at her own pace.

 Monday afternoon: power still off. Rest at home. Make dinner. Prepare my diet food (veg and chicken). Kids nap. Let Doris have a 2 hour nap, so she doesn't get pneumonia.

Monday evening: Pick up hot husband from work. When Doris get's off her work I offer her the SQ (staff quarters) room off of our house to sleep in overnight instead of walking home in the cold and rain. She takes it. (she's never done this. I know she must be bad!) I give her a hot water bottle (explaining how it works since she's never seen/used one) and load her up with Nyquil, Shaklee, and EmergenC. She is in bed asleep by 7pm, and doesn't wake up till 8am the next morning. Chat with Swedish neighbors in the compound for a bit. Laugh. Eat dinner. Still brown out. Give boys a bath by candle light and with boiled water.

 Tuesday: Even though baby boy was up sporadically at night, I figure he's teething, and running a light fever. I take him and his brother away so that again Doris can do house stuff without us around. Cute Child in school, Baby brother and I go to visit a little friend and have a play date. I drink tea and chat with the new lady and her boy the same age as mine, and they empty drawers and play with toys while we talk about the life of Expats. I like her. First play date with them and it was a success. Pick up Cute Child by noon.

 Tuesday afternoon: Power is off. It was on in the morning, having come on sometime in the night, but now it's off again, completely. Kids take naps and around 3 we go to friend Wendy's house for a playdate. Her house is amazing, her garden beautiful, and her toys- in abundance. The kids LOVE it there. Her and I do a 'biggest loser' workout DVD, have a cup of tea, and enjoy our kids and each other. I pick up Hot Husband with kids and Doris in tow, and we navigate Nairobi traffic for an hour in rain, huge puddles and bad drivers.

 Wednesday: Cute Child to school. Baby brother to Baby Bible play group. 1pm go to Seikh/Singh friend who invites me to her house to pray with her and read her the Bible and tell her about Jesus. She's on a journey, (I'm hoping straight to His heart!). She sends me home with a plate of Malai Kofta. Hot Husband is ecstatic. We have brown power, and then full power. I got a shower that morning. At 5 I go to Friskas and Svetis, my Swedish workout at the Swedish school. One hour of cardio, mat work, and jumping up and down with a bunch of blond happy people. I LOVE it. I'm hot and sweaty, and come home ready for a shower but there is no hot water, and I have a date with the girls, and so I clean up as much as possible so that I don't stink and drive to the Italian restaurant where we laugh and tell stories and have good food. This is the first I've done this since Baby Boy has been born. It feels very good. When I get home at 930, baby boy is stirring in his cot, and that stirring goes to full blown crying. He pukes everywhere, has a fever of 103, and dry heaves for the next 3.5 hours. Torture. No hot water to wash up with.

 Thursday: I had been up half the night, so I'm exhausted. But today is Thanksgiving, and I've promised that I would bring major things to a big feast at a friends house at 4pm. Hot Husband and Cute CHild will go without us... Doris and I set to making bread rolls (her) and stuffing (me) and pumpkin pie (me).  With children running around our ankles. Here you make everything from scratch. All the herbs for the stuffing are fresh, need to be cleaned/sanitized, pie crust from scratch, the bread is fresh, and the rollls that Doris makes are almost (but not quite) as good as my mothers. (My mom did teach her, after all!). We send them off, Baby Boy is very ill... and I stay home with him for Thanksgiving. I ask Doris to stay with me, I take a nap from 4-530 and then send her home. Oh I forgot to mention. The hot water heater is broken. I have had no shower since before Friskis and Svetis and feel DISGUSTING. Sweat and cooking and baby puke lingers on me. Doris knows how I feel so when I've woken she has gotten our biggest bucket and has been boiling water for me to take a bucket shower. (I love Doris!) I do. I feel 10x's better and when I see her off at 6pm, I'm ready to tackle caregiving for very sick little guy. Am up in the night every 2-3 hours.

 Friday: Call pediatrician. we both agree that since he isn't dehydrated, and isnt getting worse it sounds like a nasty virus. I set a appointment for Saturday morning in case it gets worse Friday night. I'm exhausted. I take Cute Child to school. Have a brief chat with a friend. Meet up with electrician who is there to fix hot water heater. Meet 3 gardeners I've hired to cut down branches from 2 huge trees in our backyard. It's raining the whole time, and I oversee them cutting 4 big branches.. The tree cutter has stripped down to his boxers, and climbs up the tree, so high he's level with the roof of our house, and I just pray that he doesn't die or paralyze himself in a fall. He's cutting everything down with a machete, and swears he is "okay madame, everything is sasa, okay!". *sigh. I get a cup of rooisbos and watch him from under my umbrella, praying. I run off to Christmas party at Cute Child's school. Santa is coming and giving the kids a present, but Cute Child has gotten upset because Christmas is Jesus' birthday, and "Where, (wail) is JESUS!!?!!". After calming him down a bit, he gets really into the Santa thing, and loves his car that Santa brought. Baby Brother still sick but a bit better. By evening we have hot water, kids get a good bath. Lights go off (no electricity) at 8pm. And Baby Brother pukes all over me for what feels like the 10th time that week. Disgusting. It's pouring rain, which is calming, but it's been raining so much I'm feeling a bit sad now. Hot husband and I go to sleep early- 9pm. I still am awake doing paracetemol suppositories to keep the fever and vomiting at bay every 4-4.5 hours.

 Okay- so this is feeling long and tedious. There are probably a lot of little things in my life that would make it different then the average American's. Like, when I say I am going shopping I have to add in more time, because of all the security checks. They check my car for bombs, check my diaper bag for bombs, la la la la. But outside of those little things, my life, I think, is like a lot of stay at home moms. I have the luxery of having Doris. But I have the not-so-luxury of having frequent power cuts, no hot water, rationed water in general, and crappy virus' that attack my kids' health. (Good thing, Cute Child has been healthy for several months now- I think his system is so strong after over 2 years of living here... they both are going to have amazing immune systems when they get older!!).

 I would love to know if this brings up questions about my life? Is this what you thought it was like?

 I think there are some things I don't even realize are different any more and I am just on auto pilot with them, and don't even think to mention them. Like I text Hot Husband after the Italian restaurant and him after the Thankgsiving dinner, because we were driving home in the dark, and it's good to know that the other is on the road in case of hijackings, just a simple security thing that we do.

 All in all, we love our life here. Last week was not as fun. I didn't get as much exercise in as normal, as many fun things with kids and friends, as many prayer dates as normal.. But I really do love things here even with those crazy things.

( I just went to post this and the electricity has gone off while typing this. How ironic. I can only laugh!!)

Some random pictures from the last couple months..

Reality

The reality of my world here sometimes just hits me upside the head. There are often things that we are thinking through, going through, living through that I would love to talk about with everyone- but somehow there's nothing like a downer or big dose of reality on facebook. I like to leave facebook for more chipper or simple comments and updates.

For instance, two days after the most amazing vacation in Bath with friends that I could have ever have dreamed in my wildest dreams (and no, this time I'm not exaggerating!), I got a message from friends of our up north...

He's a montanan, married to a Kenyan, and they are true lovers of people. Unorthodox missionaries of sorts.

The message was for Hot Husband and I to pray for them, they'd just gotten word that a fellow pastor/preacher/friend had been preaching in Somalia and was beheaded.

Wait. Did i read that right? Did you read that right? Do people still get beheaded? Yep. Just like John the Baptist.

*sigh. So, today, if you think of this man's family, if you think of the many amazing people who are willing to risk everything so that someone might hear of the love of God and potentially surrender their heart to it, ask Father to wrap His arms around them, to comfort them, and to protect them.

Toi Market, Matumba Market : Info and How To...

According to Wikipedia: "The Toi market is located in the outskirts of Kibera slum, Nairobi, Kenya. Before it was razed by marauding gangs during post-election violence in early 2008, it is was one of the largest informal markets in Nairobi, with over 5000 traders. It mainly sells clothes, but also vegetables and other small accessories.[1] [2]-
It lies on a bystreet to Ngong Road which runs almost the length of Nairobi, from the Langata area into the center of the city"

The front part of Toi closest to Ngong road, which is separated by a short bit of walking from Toi and has probably 150 stalls, and who knows how many traders, is called Matumba (not sure of spelling). I go there often.

Toi Market is one of my favorite parts of living here in Nairobi. I need to go in and take pictures sometime so that you can see it... But Kenyans aren't too fond of cameras at times, and the market is definitely one of those places where you go to shop, not make a scene. Particularly since shopping in general in Nairobi is making a scene.

When entering be prepared to say, "No, thank you.", "No.", "I'm not interested", and even "Please leave me alone", at least several dozen times. There are a few times I have gone in and have managed to mercifully avoid anyone heckling to get me to buy something. It's just not the way things are done here. Everyone wants you to buy their stuff, "Sister/Madame/Mama, come have a look." Everything is bartering, and everything is negotiable. It's the walk away game, but at the end of the day- if what you are bartering for is something you really want, you won't see it again, so you best just deal with the price you got the seller down to (instead of your ideal price) and don't walk away for good.

I was thinking yesterday as I was getting ready to go there that I should write about what I do when I go in. I was just doing a short trip- to get crocs for my nephew. Crocs are sold in abundance, and only slightly used. They run between 350-550 KES (depending on who you are buying from, what the mood is of the day, and how many other muzungus or buyers are out.)

I wear my older clothes, and nothing too conspicuous. If I'm going to buy shirts/dresses, I wear a modest tank top, so that I can try shirts on top of my tank. Comfy walking shoes- sturdy are important. If there's been any rains the ground is really soft and sometimes very muddy. Rains or not, the ground is uneven, with rocks and pieces of wood, and whatever in the walking aisles. The stalls are so close together that most of the time you can't see the sky, and if you have claustrophobia or a horrible sense of direction I can imagine it would be slightly overwhelming and scary at times.

I also switch out my iphone for a small simple phone, and take an old purse with me that zips on the top. I only bring small bills/coins, and keep them in separate pockets so i don't bring out the wad of small bills together at any time. I do not bring ID, passport, credit card, or anything on me of value except the cash to go shopping with.

Parking at a nearby shopping strip (Adams Arcade), I walk in from the street and around the corner, and go in from there. It's quite the experience. For many expats in Nairobi, it can be easy to forget that you are living in Africa, so wide is the gap of economic wealth, and the rising middle class is becoming more and more. But on entry of the market, the hole in the ground with black pan of fish being fried, the stalls, and sellers yelling, the produce, and buckets of beans, rice, lentils, and spices- and I feel like I'm nearer the Africa I know and love.

In Toi Market I routinely buy crocs for the kids, converse all star sneakers, and shirts for myself. I have found brand new jumpers (sweatshirts), jeans, shoes, sweat pants, onesies, pajamas, sweaters, and more. I don't know if England donates it's clothes to Africa thinking that it will end up donated, or if stores in the UK sell to African dealers- whatever the case 90% of the items in the market are from UK brands, and in UK sizing. Monsoon is a current favorite of mine, and I've picked out Zara items as well in the past.

While there isn't much in the way of clothes shopping in Nairobi- Toi serves to fulfull our shopping needs in between any trips 'back home'.

Little bits of my creative lament.

I'm fairly creative. I love to make things, arrange things, organize things, cut things out, write things down, paint pretty things- I always have flowers on at least one table in the house. (Especially since moving here where I can get 22 roses- I have no idea why they only sell 22 instead of 24- for 150kes, the equivalent of just under $2.00. )

And this is why the layout of my blog bugs me. It bugs me that it's not prettier, more creative. The font, the ... well everything drives me crazy. Which is why I change it up every 4-6 months.

This is why my house bugs me. I'm incredibly blessed to have a house. I know this. I'm blessed to have couches and chairs, and carpets. But the pattern on my couch cushions is the same of one of Bill Cosby's sweaters, and the color of the couches in general is one I would never choose (rust red). I'm a water, earth, sky sort of gal. *sigh.

I have friends who have etsy stores (at least 7 of them just off the top of my head). I have friends who run photography businesses (12 off the top of my head). I have musicians as friends (can't even count how many) who you can actually buy their music on itunes.

This is my lament of the desire to be more creative, and the thousands of excuses of why I am not. We could start with my children and husband being my top priorities and them being extremely all-encompassing. Or how the last 5 weeks I've been sick in bed an average of 3 out of 7 days a week. I could end with how being here in Africa churns the creativity at every moment of stillness- but that unless you have the instrument in your hands (I don't have a piano- and an old beat up one costs at least $1,000USD) the canvas (I can't find any, anywhere!) on your easel, the fabric in your market (Kenya does not have good textiles- outside of the kikoy)... I find it very difficult to church out my creativity.

My prayer tonight:
Father help me to be more creative with what I have around me. Help me to take the leap and prioritize creating things at the risk of other things not getting finished. Help me to see things fresh and anew and help my eyes to not be dulled to the rush of living. Reawaken the creativity inside of me once again...

In pictures...