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.