The God of Africa is the God of America/When Did Bob Barker Retire?

When I returned home from India, I experienced a severe case of "reverse culture shock" where I felt completely out of place in America. One day it was so bad, I went to 7 11 specifically so I could talk to Indians and ended up befriending Sharma, the cutest little old man who works there and still will talk with me about India. (I realize that I was falling prey to stereotypes when I thought, "hmmm...where can I find Indians? I know...7 11" but all the workers were in fact Indian so does that still make me a racist?) I was fearful that coming back from Mozambique, I would again suffer from "reverse culture shock" and struggle to enjoy my short time here. Therefore, I was quite surprised to discover that it feels like Mozambique was a dream and I had only been gone for a weekend. God definitely has been doing a number on me while in Africa, but I don't feel like I've returned home as a different person. My perspective of God, the world and myself has changed, but I'm still quirky Katie and I guess I had imagined I would have matured into a sophisticated, well-mannered traveler...but I haven't. It truly is bizarre how normal it feels to be back in California running with my sister, going to movies and basketball games, eating my favorite meals, watching TV and playing games with my family. (warning: if you ever partake in the "WII Olympic games" your arms will hurt for days- who knew video games could be such a work out?) I was telling a friend at church about this odd phenomena and she pointed out that it is a blessing from God to be able to jump in and out of two very different worlds and feel at home in both. Truly it is a blessing which I am very grateful for. I think part of the reason I'm not suffering from reverse culture shock like I had before is because I had more time in Africa to think about the great things in America that I missed and thus, gained a greater appreciation for our great country. I have a new appreciation for being able to drink the tap water, for toilet seat covers (I am big believer in contagious butt germs and refuse to sit on public seats without some protection), for driving whenever and wherever I want, for cool crisp air, for slurpees (I craved these often in Mozambique and never found an equivalent) and a new appreciation for American food! I love that we have such a wide variety of food and that restaurants serve soda in ginormous glasses with free refills. (sadly, I feel queasy after most meals since my stomach is still adjusting and I couldn't even finish a Brea's Best Cheeseburger the other day...it was a very sad day)

I also have a new appreciation for American culture. I love that I can be standing in line to buy a burrito and see people from 12 different countries waiting in line with me. (I really missed the diversity that we have especially here in California. It's also been nice blending in a bit without everyone starting at me because of my skin. They may stare because I'm wearing my pajamas in public but at least it's not because I'm white.) I love that Americans are loud and although at times deemed "obnoxious" by other nations, I love how friendly they/we can be with strangers. I like how we do things quickly, efficiently and with a purpose and that we have organized systems like parking garages and airports. (I've oft been accused of walking like an "American" because apparently I walk like I own the street but really I'm just walking with a purpose and making sure muggers aren't following me.) I like that people follow the traffic laws most of the time, that every policeman isn't out to get a bribe, and that smoking is outlawed practically everywhere. I LOVE that when we meet people, we shake hands instead of the kiss on the cheek. I am still quite far from perfecting this "kissing greeting" and the complicated hand-slapping/grabbing routine that the younger Mozambicans do and have loved being able to just shake people's hands here. This may be a bit off topic but I have to share another passage from To Hate Like This Is to Be Happy Forever which made me laugh out loud as my students were taking a test.

" As a white man of a certain age, I probably had no business attempting the new black handshakes. I probably should have settled for the straightforward satisfactions of an Anglo-Saxon squeeze. Or, at the very most, a simple high-five. Better to succeed unnoticed at a classic than fail ignominiously at the snazzy baroque of hip-hop. The last time I had the proper sequence of showing love down was 25 or 30 years ago when the expression didn't even exist and I had black friends with whom I slapped hands and traded friendly insults every day in school. My life had become considerably more Caucasian since then. And this meant trouble when it came to fashionable forms of Negro greeting, because, as the late Richard Pryor once put it, 'The brothers are always changing the handshake every six months just so white people can't get the hang of it.'"

Although it feels like I never left, there are however, several indicators that I've been gone for a significant chunk of time. Vander of course is the largest of these. Pun intended. It has been so fun getting to know him but kind of bittersweet knowing that I'll be leaving again and we'll have to get reacquainted in the summer. This little guy is so precious, constantly exploring and laughing and sharing his food. He's walking like a champ (by champ I mean he does a fabulous "drunk swagger" and keeps his hands ready at any moment to fall) and walking everywhere looking for mischief. I was pretty much traumatized when I was babysitting him and he fell down one step, hit his mouth on a chair and his mouth started gushing blood. Yes, gushing. He stuck his little hands in his mouth, thus covering both hands in blood and then sneezed when I picked him up, leaving my face speckled with his blood. He acquired a killer fat lip from the fall which I fear may never go away and now has quite the gash above his lip. Heidi told me I should have taken a picture, "It would have been a great one for the blog" she said. Ummm....sure Heidi, except I thought I going to have to call 9-1-1 and was not thinking about my blog at that moment.

Other indicators that I've been gone:

* Drew Carey now hosts The Price is Right. Random. This was quite disturbing and when I asked, "Where's Bob???" My sweet brothers told me he died which made me very sad. (turns out they were lying, he just retired)

* Golden Spoon accepts credit cards and Jamba Juice added several new smoothie flavors. (I just returned from there actually and had an awkward encounter with a past student who is now in college. It was awkward because I look like a homeless woman right now. It's a new look I'm trying to pass off as trendy/ I'm too lazy to change out of my sweats)

*I occasionally say "Desculpe and "Obrigada" to strangers winning me some very odd looks.

*I only recognize 2 of the Lakers including the coach.

* My cat gained 20 pounds and my dog's hair turned almost completely white.

I was sitting in church with my parents last Sunday, marveling at how just 2 weeks ago I was sitting in church on the other side of the world with a bunch of orphan boys. As we stood and sang worship songs, I thought about how 2 weeks ago I was rocking out with a bunch of kids, dancing like crazy in the aisles to the worship songs. As the offering plates were passed, I thought about how the entire congregation files to the front of the church to drop off their offering to God although they have so little. As the sermon was preached, I thought about how 2 weeks ago the sermon was more "yelled" than preached and in Portuguese. The services are dramatically different but we are worshiping the same God. God is the same in America as He is in Africa. He's just as powerful, He's just as big, He's just as active. So although Maputo is worlds different from Brea, God is the same and this common denominator has made it much easier to enjoy both worlds.

In the midst of Christmas shopping, packing, and running from muggers, I didn't have time to write about my last experience at the Iris orphanage so I'll give you another glimpse into this other world I will be returning to in a week.

The weekend was full of fun and surreal moments. Lindsay and I met up with a group of short-term missionaries who had come into the city for lunch so we could hitch a ride with them back to Iris. I was feeling a bit anti-social and well, quite honestly, the short-terms were obnoxious so when the group headed for the tables inside where there is air conditioning, we slid into a table in the scorching heat and enjoyed lunch at one of my favorite spots called Surf. In the picture I made Lindsay stand on the platform so I wouldn't feel like such a giant which is why we are laughing and our photographer (a boy from the orphanage) doesn't believe in counting to three.
When we arrived at the orphanage we went to the "baby house" where the 2 year olds and younger live. I knew we were in for an overwhelming afternoon when we stepped through the door and were immediately surrounded by toddlers pulling on our legs, lifting their arms, begging to be held. At one point I was holding a child with each arm and had a feisty one on my back while several others clung to my legs. I have never experienced such a raw hunger for love and attention. Here are a few pictures to try to show you a bit of the chaotic nature of playing with all these precious children at one time.

There was one moment when I was chasing about 15 kids around the playground, they were all screaming and sprinting away from me, falling all over each other and laughing hysterically when I felt like I was in a dream. I am so blessed that God would bring me here to experience this- to feel this kind of joy.
The boy in the picture above is one who gripped my heart. Little Tito is 2 years old and not only is he HIV positive, he suffered from an unknown disease at birth so he can't communicate well and has no balance so he is constantly falling over. He was one of the first to latch on to my leg and he refused to let go until we left. By the time Lindsay and I had helped feed some of the kids dinner and get undressed for baths, we were exhausted! I have never had the energy sucked out of me so quickly. We met up with Adrian and Vogner, two of the high school boys, and walked to the nearby shop and drank cokes while watching the cars drive by and recooperating.

Another surreal moment came when we into the main room with the boys and found a room full of young boys watching Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith music videos which were projected on a large screen. We sat and enjoyed the familiar music and had to laugh at the surreal nature of the moment- sitting with about 100 orphan boys in Africa, watching Jeremy Camp on a large screen though most of the boys don't speak English.

The following Sunday morning held a few more surreal moments for us. I love going to church at this orphanage partly because it is so fun to see the kids rock out to the music. We went to the "mosh pit" in the front to dance with the kids and I ended up in a circle dancing with girls who are not orphans. It's easy to distinguish between the orphans and city kids because the city kids are filthy and not as light-hearted. I joined a circle with about 5 of these girls from the city and had more fun than I've ever had dancing. (It's no secret that I have zero rhythm and don't dance often but this was a great occasion for dancing without inhibition)

After our dance/worship session I took my seat next to Marcos. This boy was so sweet and though he doesn't speak English we found ways to communicate.
During the service the sky opened and there was a sudden downpour and we quickly discovered that there was a giant hole in the tin roof which just happened to be located directly above us. In the middle of the sermon there was one scream and suddenly me and about 50 others had jumped to our feet and were fleeing from the waterfall coming down from the ceiling. We moved benches around while the older boys tackled the leak by filling numerous large trash cans with rain and the pastor went right on preaching although most people were a tiny bit distracted by the waterfall.

Click here to watch a video clip of the sermon in the midst of the chaos.

Once we were resettled and dry, I sat looking out the door at the deluge, thinking, "In one week, I will be at church in Brea which feels like a land from my dreams right now." As I sit at my home in Brea and reminisce about those many "surreal moments," it seems so odd Africa feels like the dream now.

Maputo to Brea

It's currently 5 AM and suffering from a mild bout of jet lag, I am wide awake, perched on my giant bed in Brea, California watching my fat cat sleep next to me and baffled by the fact that I actually made it home for Christmas. I left Maputo, Mozambique early Thursday morning yet had many near-tear moments when it seemed I wouldn't be home before Christmas. Here's why:

* I Still Love Traveling
There are several things I enjoy that most don't: the smell of gasoline and spray paint, awkward moments, seeing others fall, rolling down hills, and traveling long distances. I love people-watching in airports, I love the food and movies on airplanes and I love how every time I fly it feels like a mini-adventure. After this past trip, several people have asked me if I still enjoy travelling after being tossed around on an emotional roller coaster, enduring every possible delay and disaster when flying. The answer is and loud, resounding, "YES!" It was an adventure and though I broke down and bawled when I finally boarded the plane heading to LAX (tears from emotional and physical exhaustion), God is so good and gave me a perspective and attitude which enabled me to enjoy the journey. Here are some steps of the journey: (not included the hours of waiting in lines and on planes and in terminals)

- 8-hour bus ride from Maputo, Mozambique departing Thursday 7 AM and arriving in Joberg, South Africa at 4:30 PM. No super "news-worthy" tales while on the bus except when I couldn't find the bus when we had to walk across the border into South Africa and I left the group to pee. When I returned, I realized I didn't know what any of my "traveling mates" looked like. (note to self: learn to be more observant) but eventually I wandered over to South Africa and found the bus. We arrived at the station in Joberg which is in a bad area of a town that has one of the highest crime rates in the world. (I should have brought my umbrella!) OC, the mission I'm with, has several families living in Joberg which I had met at the retreat a few weeks prior and the Witherows picked me up from the station. I had written to them to tell them I would be wearing a bright orange tank top so they could locate me. (I never claimed to have much fashion sense) They teased me about this precaution because when I walked through the station I was thee only White person in sight. - I stayed overnight at their home and loved getting to know their three little boys and was ecstatic to discover they have a trampoline! We bounced for literally hours and I thought nothing of the possible consequences of this until I boarded the plane and realized I had pulled my groin and had to limp the rest of the journey and explain to others that it was due to a "trampoline injury."

- 8 hour flight from Joberg to Dakar, Senegal. We were supposed to stop here and refuel and be back in the air after an hour. More than 24 hours later, we reboarded and began the next leg of our flight. (details to follow)

- 9 hour flight from Dakar to Atlanta. For the first time in my life I couldn't sleep on the plane since I had just slept through the night in a bed in Dakar and I ended up watching TV and movies nearly the entire flight.

- 5 hour flight from Atlanta to LAX. As previously mentioned, when I finally boarded this plane, I was crying and trying to tell my mom what time to pick me up but was struggling to speak since I was crying so hard and made many people around me very awkward. You'll understand later why I was so tired and emotional when I finally made it home. This flight was nearly full and I had to fly stand-by with, as the flight attendant informed me, "a 50 percent chance I would make it on." If I didn't make it on that flight, I would have had to stay overnight in Atlanta and just the thought of waking on Christmas Eve alone and in Atlanta, had me near-tears. But I made it on, made it home and was greeted by my amazing parents and sister. I stumbled off the escalator with puffy, blood-shot eyes, a sore throat I had picked up in Senegal, oily hair, wrinkled and smelly clothes, and a huge appreciation to be home before Christmas. Yet, I still love traveling. (still waiting for my luggage to arrive though)

* God Sent Amandas
You know how many people have great conversations with people they sit next to on planes? Great evangelists and pastors lead people to the Lord and such? I confess I'm not one of those people. I usually say hello and then put on my headphones and don't communicate much with others on board. However, this time God had orchestrated who I would sit next to, knowing I would need a friend to endure the next 2 days with. I plopped down next to the girl I had seen in the airport who seemed very "earthy." (she later told me she thought I was "sporty"- do we sound like Spice Girls or what?) When I first took my seat next to her, I would never have guessed in a few hours we would be friends, traveling around Senegal together. Amanda is my age and had been teaching English in a remote village in Kenya. We shared our Africa experiences and were almost instant friends. Others aboard later told us they thought we were long-time friends traveling together. When our plane broke in Dakar and we were informed we would be staying overnight in a hotel, we decided to stick together. God knew if I had been by myself throughout the whole ordeal, I would have been terrified and miserable. Instead, He provided a friend and we were able to have a blast in Senegal together. In the first picture we had just gotten off the first flight and were waiting in the first of 47 lines we would wait in throughout the trip. In the second picture we are in a van, heading towards the hotel from the airport. We were packed like sardines in this van with all our luggage and my favorite quote came from the little Indian man to the right who said to the man packing in the bags, "We are human beings. You can't do this to us."

While waiting for at least 10 combined hours in the airport in Senegal, we befriended another Amanda who lives in LA. I was supposed to be on the last flight with her but of course my bags were last to come off the plane so I was last in line to rebook a ticket and missed our flight. I was nearing my breaking point in Dakar when our plane was delayed after being fixed and it seemed we might have to spend another day in the city. Amanda # 2 was in line with me, sharing her dried pears and company so I didn't break down. (I was so appreciative of these pears because we hadn't eaten in hours and I was starving. So although I am usually quite skeptical of dried fruit because of the affects dried apricots had on my roommate Lesley, I gratefully accepted the pears and they were surprisingly delicious)

God is so amazing how He provides. We all said that the trip would have been a nightmare if we had to go through it alone but God provided traveling friends. He knew exactly what I needed and literally "went before me" to prepare me for this trip by sitting me next to Amanda.

* Dakar: City or Country?
When we first learned of our plane malfunction, I confess I looked at Amanda and asked, "Is Dakar a city or country?" This from the geography teacher who just taught about Africa:) Through some detective work in the airport, we discovered Dakar is the capital of Senegal which is in Northwestern Africa. Part of the silver lining of being stranded in Africa is that I got to explore a new country. Senegal is radically different from Mozambique. Our first adventure in Dakar was finding our luggage in the midst of the baggage claim area. It was nearly impossible to walk through the area because there were thousands of bags littered on the pathways. When one couple finally found their bags on the conveyor belt, they had no room to walk so they jumped up and rode on top of their bags until they could find a clear area to jump off. I was reminded of Jerry MacGuire and smiled. An obnoxious French boy next to me was slapping his parents who were slapping him back, some angry African-Americans were yelling profanities at the workers, locals were passed out on top of luggage and we all were totally unaware of what was happening and how long we would be in Dakar. I tried to capture the chaos of it all but you really had to be there to understand how crazy it was.
After waiting for hours in the airport, completely unaware of any semblance of a plan, Amanda pulled some strings and snagged two seats on a bus for us although we were last in line. (my bags were last off the plane- this tends to be a pattern, which is why we were last) The sun had just risen and we were transported to a beautiful hotel where we were fed a delicious breakfast. Of course my mood instantly improved after eating- food has this effect on me. We ate breakfast with two Peace Corp volunteers from Mozambique and Sean suggested we venture out to the downtown. Sean, Amanda and I pooled our resources and got a taxi which wasn't so easy since none of us speak a word of French and not many Senegalese speak English. Here are some pictures taken from the taxi:
I love exploring and we spent the afternoon walking around the city, trying to soak in Senegalese culture. The people are much taller and darker than Mozambicans and it is a Muslim nation that was once controlled by the French. The city felt like a combination of Africa, Paris and the Middle-East and was unlike any place I've been before. We arrived the day after a Muslim holiday where they had slaughtered goats and saw hundreds of goat hides for sale on the streets. The men wandered the streets in their colorful Muslim garb and Sean confessed he considered converting because the clothes looked so comfortable and stylish.We stopped in a little store to call home and Sean stopped by Starbucks to get a coffee.

We were followed by several vendors inviting us to their "factory" but it was interesting to see how the men only would talk to Sean. Mozambicans have figured out that the women are the ones who will spend the money and this being my first experience in a Muslim nation, it felt so odd to be ignored because I am a woman. One particularly crazy vendor followed us so long he even sat down when we stopped to rest at a restaurant and was not picking up on our non-verbal cues that we didn't like him. Sean was afraid he had a knife and so he wasn't rude and eventually he tired of us.It was a very fun day of exploring but I was pooped by the end (perhaps because I hadn't slept in 24 hours) and collapsed on a chair in the sun at our hotel.

* Rats in the Walls
I knew I was going to have a fun day when I looked out the window from our room in the hotel. Private, white-sand beach, crystal clear ocean, chairs to lay by the pool- my idea of heaven.
The hotel food was amazing (or perhaps I was just starving) and I had a wonderful nap by the pool and on the beach.
Although the scenery was beautiful, the hotel wasn't exactly 5 star quality. The air con only had one setting which turned our room into an icebox which I suspect is what caused my current sore throat. Also, while showering, I discovered some friends- rats live in the walls and were quite loud as they squeaked and scurried about. Overall however, we had a great time at the hotel and it made being stuck in Africa not so bad.

* New Reality Show
Usually when you travel, you can observe the crazies you're with from a safe distance and don't have much interaction. However, when trapped in Senegal together and waiting for hours on end together in strange places, you are forced to interact and a bond is formed. The mormon carrying the cane/weapon, the pot-bellied, crazy but kind dancer, the snobby model, the French-speaking cowboys, the absent, Asian dad, the outgoing professor from New Orleans with his students, the rich businessmen, the red-faced South African, the earthy peace corp workers and the list goes on, of the characters on our plane. It was such a neat experience to be stuck in the same situation and we really did begin to feel like a family and a team. We waited together, ate together, relaxed by the pool together, shook our fists at Delta and shared our stories with each other. We encouraged eachother, vented to eachother, shared any information we had about "the plan," helped eachother carry bags and "watched each others' back." It was so fun to hear the many different reasons people were in Africa and get to interact with so many different persoanlities whom, under normal sitations, I probably would have never talked to. The whole time I was thinking this would make a wonderful reality show- a mix of Survivor, Amazing Race and Lost. CBS, go ahead and steal this idea. While waiting in one of the gazillion lines at the Dakar airport, one man entertained us when he put on his headphones and started dancing his heart out. He's a larger White man and the people around him were trying not to stare but I got out the camera to try to capture the awkwardness.

Click to here to watch the awkward man and see some of my traveling companions

* The Other Side of the Ocean
I called my mom at three in the morning to tell her I was stuck in Senegal and had just seen a goat shot in the street in front of us. She did not appreciate this last bit of information but I though it was so bizarre. I wasn't able to communicate with my family again until I reached Atlanta and no idea that my sister had befriended Delta and knew more about my traveling situation than I did. No exaggeration there- Delta never told us anything about when or where we were going but my sister the "wonder whiz" had everything figured out. (I don't know why I just gave her that nickname) When I finally arrived in LA and realized my bags weren't coming, I trudged towards the baggage claim service area and groaned as I saw a huge line of angry passengers. (apparently the flight forgot about 1/4 of the bags) However, I peeked inside and there was Heidi at the front of the line signaling for me to come up. She had pretended to be me but didn't know what color her bags were:) I don't think the lady actually believed Heidi had just travelled for over 50 hours because she looked like a model while her sister on the other hand who knew what color the bags were, looked like she was about to roll over and die. A few minutes after midnight, the very beginning of Christmas Eve, I walked through my front door and breathed a sigh of relief. I made it.

There are so many unexpected obstacles and challenges that we face in life. So many surprises that aren't always considered "pleasant." But through this trip, God has showed me that despite the obstacle, He is there. Despite the challenge, despite the suffering, He will always be there- but will I always notice Him? He was so close to me throughout the whole ordeal and constantly whispering peace in my ear that despite being exhausted and disappointed, I could enjoy the experience.

Elephant hair is NOT good luck/Christmas in Maputo

He told me it was good luck. He was wrong. A few days ago I bought a bracelet made out of elephant hair. (I'm a bit curious as to just where this supposed "hair" is from because elephants don't strike me as the "hairy" type but I took their word for it) The guy selling them on the streets spoke great English and he told me that not only are the bracelets fashionable, it would bring me good luck. He then went on to describe how he lives outside of the city but has never been mugged traveling at night in and out of the city because he wears the bracelet. I told him that I believed in someone much more powerful than elephant hair- that God protects me so I don't need "good luck charms." When I asked him if he believed in God he assured me that he did and when I asked him about Jesus, he also said he believed in Him. Mark then explained that he believed Jesus gave us elephant hair bracelets to protect us. This is the perfect example of how many Mozambicans are synchratists and blend the beliefs of the Bible with their own beliefs. I left Mark having bought a bracelet but reiterating that God protects me, not the bracelet. .Well then a few days ago, I made an uswise decision, had a "blonde moment" if you will, and decided to walk to a store in an area that is often deserted and is known for being dangerous. The embassy has sent out numerous warnings about walking in this area but I really needed to finish my Christmas shopping and this was the only day I could go so I double-knotted by shoes and headed for the shop. I was still in my "teacher attire" which means a skirt, blouse, and running shoes and was wielding an umbrella since the skies were threatening to open at any moment. As I walked toward the shop, I looked down and noticed the bracelet and thought, "hmmmmmm....that would be ironic if something extraordinary happens to me while I'm wearing this." At the exact moment that the thought wondered in my mind, I ran straight into some overhanging branches which lodged themselves in my pony tail so I was literally caught in the tree and had to stop and untangle my hair and rub the sore spot. I should have turned around at that point. Maybe being attacked by an inanimate object was God's way of telling me this was not to be a lucky trip. I ignored my instincts and kept on power-walking to the store. After about 15 minutes of gliding along, I realized it really was a deserted area and started to wonder about the wisdom of my decision. My instincts told me to turn around and when I did I saw a young Mozambican man RUNNING towards me. I was walking quite fast and to catch up to me, one would have to run and right when I saw him I got an awful feeling. My actual thought was "Oh crap, I bet he's got a knife in that bag and is going to steal my shoes." (I had stuck my money in my trusty spandex shorts) I actually remembered some tips from self-defense training at Westmont and knew that I should look straight at him so he knew he wasn't going to surprise me. I don't know where this came from but as I glared at him with my best "don't mess" face, I whipped the umbrella in a fashion so that it quickly extended and then I proceeded to twirl it around like a weapon and then I turned back around and continued walking fast. He had slowed down to a fast walk and I kept turning around to see how much closer he was getting. After a few minutes of suspenseful walking and umbrella twirling, we were completely alone with no cars in sight so I finally listened to my instincts and I ran...fast. I figured if he was going to mug me, he was going to have to work hard. As I ran I prayed...not for an angel...somehow I knew there was one already...I prayed that the guy would see the angel that I could not see. When I turned back around he had stopped his pursuit and was standing still. Not wanting to take any more chances, I didn't stop running. I had to take a longer detour to avoid the potential mugger and ran a good two miles...in my skirt and made it home with a drenched skirt, no Christmas presents, and a learned lesson.

Christmas shopping in Maputo has been a...well, a different experience. I didn't face the usual obstacles of packed parking lots, crowded malls, and long lines. The obstacles in Maputo involve bartering to get the best price, dodging cars as we shop on street corners and fighting off pushy, desperate venders promising to give you a "good price madam." A few weekends ago Heldio (fellow CAM teacher) took Lindsay and I around town to different spots to shop. Here we are at the hut which is actually where I was heading when I got a bit "side-tracked" by the running man. We also went to the newly-opened shopping mall for the first time. The stores were only for the immensely wealthy and looked too nice for me to even step foot in but we did get a picture by one of the few Christmas trees I've seen in Maputo.
I love buying gifts for people but the problem is I become a bit obsessed with finding people the perfect gift and every year I lose sight of why I am giving gifts. In my naivete I figured I would not face that issue this year since I'm in Africa. But silly me, I fell prey once again to the trap of thinking more about the gifts I'll give than why we are celebrating. Luckily God opened my eyes to this on the way to school one day.

I was walking briskly, humming along, lost in my own bizarre Katie world of thoughts when a powerful, clear thought or rather, question, came bursting through the fog of my daydreams and smacked me in the face: "What was it like in heaven 10 months before Christmas?" (just this year I realized that the pregnancy is longer than 9 months...why isn't this more publicized?) What was it like for Jesus, the Father, the Spirit, the angels...all knowing what Jesus was about to do? What must have gone through Jesus' mind knowing the incredible pain and suffering he was about to subject himself to for our sake? What were the angels thinking? (I think if I were an angel I would have been thinking "Don't do it!! They don't deserve it Jesus!") Did they have a "farewell feast?" What was going through God's mind right before he allowed his Son to clothe himself in humanity? Did he give Jesus a pep talk? Did He cry?

As my mind explored these questions, I was overwhelmed like never before by the emotion behind Christmas, by the implication of what Jesus' birth meant and I was suddenly sobbing. (got some great confused looks from the Mozambicans) Raised in the Church, of course I know in my head the "reason for the season" but I don't always allow the reason we celebrate affect me as it should and my thoughts and actions don't always show that I am truly remembering why we celebrate Christmas. I get so consumed by giving gifts that I forget about the enormity of the most amazing gift the world has ever received.

This year I have been so excited about "Christmas" but I confess it is not for the right reasons. I have been so ecstatic because I get to see my family. Like a child waiting in eager anticipation for Christmas because of Santa, I have waited eagerly for this season but not because I was excited about remembering what Jesus has done for me, but because I get to see my family. Not that longing for my family is a bad thing- I believe God blessed me with an amazing family and understands I miss them- but I wish I constantly longed for Heaven like I've longed for home, I wish Christmas would be a time each year when I would be overwhelmed by what Jesus has done for me, a time when I wouldn't stress about what gifts to give but rather, would rejoice in the gift I have already received. I'm sorry if I sound preachy but I feel like such a moron for losing sight of Jesus during "Christmas season." My prayer for myself and others is that God would put afresh on our hearts an understanding of what it meant for Jesus to be born; what it meant for Jesus, for the world, and for us personally. I feel like I've heard this idea nearly every year but for the first time, I actually understand it.

Teaching at a Christian school, it was so neat to have a Christmas program that was totally centered on Jesus. (well...and Christmas food) Lindsay's kids dressed up and recited several memory verses as a part of a Christmas poem and Mrs. Meyers wrote a play about the shepherds on Christmas night. My kids did great on their recitation of "O Little Town of Bethlehem" and then led everyone in singing Christmas hymns. I had a flashback to singing at half time in the Philippines when someone would hit a wrong note and Trent and I would exchange a look and then lose it and start laughing so hard we couldn't sing. One of my students reminds me of Trent and when some one's voice cracked, I happened to be looking at Domingos who broke out into laughter and when I needed to give him a stern look (he was on stage so everyone was watching) instead, I had to turn away because my shoulders were shaking from laughing as well. The Christmas season in Maputo has definitely been drastically different from home. It's hot and sticky outside, there's no Christmas music playing, very few decorations in town, and very few people are preoccupied with all the "Christmas festivities." Christmas isn't as big of a deal to Mozambicans and many of my own students don't do any of the traditions I've always held so dear. This has been just another reminder to me that Christmas isn't about all the traditions...although I love them..It's not even about family....although I love them too... Christmas is about Jesus coming to earth- may we never forget, may this fact be radical and transforming every year.

Those Black and White Ones

If you've ever crossed the border from Mexico into the U.S., you have a good idea of what it is like crossing the border from Mozambique into South Africa; it's like entering a new world. I definitely prefer living in Mozambique but I must admit, it is always a much needed and relaxing time when we cross over into this other world. The last two weekends of November were spent soaking in the beauty of South Africa although on two very different trips. The first trip was spent "hunting" animals in my honeymoon spot: Kruger Park.

The day after Thanksgiving, Mada, myself, Sabina, Lisa and Lisa's mom skipped over the border and when Lisa, Sabina and I weren't laughing too hard in the back seat, we actually spotted some extraordinary animals.Just can't get enough of these giraffes! God really had His creative juices flowing when he thought up this one.Perhaps they got a bad rap from The Lion King but this guy sure looks pretty evil and apparently they digest bones which is awful creepy. We also learned from our safari guide that they don't worry about predators because no one eats them since they stink so bad. Interesting defense mechanism- can I use that as an excuse not to shower?I have a new perspective on the game "Hungry, Hungry Hippos." I always thought it was cute how wide they opened their mouths until I learned they kill more humans than any other animal in the park. Here we caught them playing.This is the closest we've gotten to the giant but shy, "wildebeest." I guess the quotes are really necessary are they?Still find these beasts so beautiful."Can I help you?"This was the "day of the rhinos." In the past, I'd only seen them from a far distance and if I'm completely honest, I thought they were rocks. On this trip however, we saw several rhinos rather close.
As always, we were thoroughly entertained (although secretly still a little scared) by the monkeys and baboons.Although we had fewer elephant sightings, the few we had were memorable. The first guy was not happy to see us and flapped his ears (apparently this is a bad sign) and kept walking straight at our car as Madalena quickly reversed while keeping her cool. I would have been freaking out if I was driving.
click here to watch a clip of our dramatic escape

Then while enjoying my lunch of a delectable "Boer war roll," one somewhat vain elephant came for a photo shoot and decided to eat lunch with the humans and munched on trees right next to the fence. Lisa, Sabina and I decided to try to be elephants in the picture. I'd like to say the double chin was intentional, but it wasn't:)The main highlight were seeing the big cats up close!
I had never seen a leopard before so it was quite a treat when we went out at 5:30 in the morning and were driving a tiny road when Sabina yelled and pointed, "CAT!" and sure enough, there was this amazing leopard sitting rather close to the road, rubbing his face on the tree stump. I see now why leopard print became so popular- it really is beautiful. (don't worry, I won't come home decked out in leopard print)As previously mentioned, on my list of "things I want to do before I die," was "embark on an African safari." I've driven through Kruger several times but never on an official safari so I was super excited because this trip we stayed overnight in a hut in the park (surrounded by electric fences) and were able to go on a night safari. We bundled up, took our seats behind some "quirky" South African guys in the elevated, open truck, and were prepared to be amazed. Our first hint that it wasn't going to be a life-changing safari came early on when our guide said, "You know one of those black and white animals." "Zebras?" "Yeah, one of those." He actually turned out to be pretty knowledgeable, perhaps he just had a brain fart- I can sympathize. The poor guy was for sure put to the test on his knowledge about animals because Mrs. Frist (aka the Question Queen) took the seat next to him and drilled him for a solid hour as we giggled away trying to listen in from the back. One of my favorite questions that she posed was, "If you had to choose what animal would kill you, which would you choose?" This was a conversation we had been having earlier so she decided to consult an expert and turns out he had some interesting facts. Apparently lions don't kill their prey before they begin feasting...note to self, never be killed by a lion. If you have to choose, the experts say to go with the buffalo, they'll knock you out the quickest. Another scenario we had previously pondered and Mrs. Frist posed to our guide was, "OK, if you're stranded in the park overnight, what would be your plan of action?" For the record, if you're ever in such a situation, build a fire to scare away some of the animals and then climb a tree to avoid the animals who aren't afraid of fire. (then again, this is advice from the guide who called a zebra "one of those black and white animals.")

Since we were with a guide and a gun, we were able to go on side roads and get out of the car. Here's a brief video of the sounds of Kruger Park at night.

The animals we saw while on the official safari included hippos crossing the road, a snake, impalas (these are like the pigeons of Kruger, so many of them that they aren't too exciting to see) and a crouching hyena. Not exactly what I had imagined when I put "african safari" on my list of things to do before death. We did however learn some fascinating facts about rhino poop and had quite the adventure when it became to POUR rain when we were 20 minutes away from camp. The rain seemed to come from all directions and we shivered, teeth chattering, arms linked, heads bowed, as our guide booked it back to camp, all the while thinking about the ways animals kill their prey. (our heads were bowed so our faces wouldn't get so drenched, not because we are holy)

So although my safari didn't turn out to be quite the experience I had envisioned, it was a memory and adventure and we still saw incredible animals on our own safari.