Where, O death, is your victory?

I think I could live in Mozambique for the next 50 years and still not completely understand their culture. It is vibrant and complicated and I've been learning quite a bit about certain aspects of the Mozambican culture lately. I've had several discussions with other missionaries recently about why development is so slow in Africa and specifically in Mozambique. One woman was telling us about how her job is to identify the cultural factors which inhibit growth here. Ironically the family structure, which is quite admirable- children are incredibly valuable- often obstructs economic growth. If one family member succeeds, they are expected to care for the entire extended family. I was recently speaking with a Mozambican teacher at CAM who explained that he is the only working member of his family and must care for not only his wife and son, but also his parents, brothers, sister and their entire families. Sadly, another cultural barrier to growth, is jealousy. If one rural church or village is prosperous, the neighboring churches or villages will get jealous and work to bring down the successful people back to their same level. Individuals are literally afraid to succeed in business, knowing that if they are successful, their endeavors will somehow be attacked by their jealous neighbors. Coming from a society which prides itself on the free market, this concept is bizarre to me but very real here. My prayers for Mozambique are that this tradition of jealousy would be diluted and wiped out.

We've also several discussions recently about how Africa is much more "spiritually-minded" than the West. Henrik was telling me how in one village they were not allowed to use the water of the local lake because they believe the deceased witch doctor had turned into a crocodile that lived in the lake. Such stories sound so silly to me and it's hard to believe that grown, educated people believe such tales but it points to the fact that Mozambicans are bigger believers in the spiritual world than us "educated" Westerners. I internally scoffed when I heard that one village believed a lion that invaded the village and killed a man, was actually a reincarnated witch doctor, serving justice. However, to have the faith that such a thing could happen, reveals that Mozambicans are quicker to believe without seeing and without proof. They are more in-tune with the spiritual world, more aware of this unseen world I often ignore and thus they are quicker to believe in miracles and attribute acts to God or the "spirits" rather searching for logical, scientific explanations. Although I am saddened by the rampant "ancestor worship" and "syncritism" which is so prevalent here, I admire the simplistic faith of the Mozambicans. Science seems to have hardened our (referring to the West's) hearts towards the spiritual world so that even we Christians struggle to believe in miracles and to acknowledge this world that we cannot see.

Most Mozambicans therefore believe that death is obviously not the end. However, when one spirit does pass from this world, it is an indescribable tragedy which makes the funerals here very sorrowful. I had a very steep learning curve about Mozambican culture and traditions as I attended a funeral last week which I will never forget.

Teresa is our empragada. Every week day she does our dishes, washes our clothes, makes our beds, scrubs the floors, etc. It is a very common job here although the pay is quite little. Unfortunately she speaks no English so our communication has been limited to, "Hi. All is well?" "All is well thank you. And you?" "All is well." The father of her son died a few months back because he had AIDS but she assured us that she does not. Then last week her only son Francis, who was just 4 years old, complained of a tummy ache and then died a few hours later for unknown reasons. The day he died, I went with Madalena, Henrik and Henrik's sister Cecilia to pay our respects at Teresa's home. When we entered her 2-room, cement block home, she was laying on the floor, surrounded by 14 other women who were singing mournful songs in the local tongue, Chingana. Occasionally Teresa would let out a wail with such sorrow I had never heard before and the women would sing louder and continue stroking her arms. It was amazing to see how this culture deals with death- the family is not left alone and not expected to be strong- they are allowed to wail and be weak, knowing their community will take care of them.

The following afternoon was the funeral. Cecelia took her camera along which I was thankful for since it is a ceremony and day I will never forget. We arrived at the cemetery and were surrounded by vendors selling flowers which we bought, unaware of what we would later be planting them on top of Francis grave. We found Teresa's friends in the midst of the sea of bodies which was quite difficult because there were at least 20 funerals that day and the crowds were large. Teresa was still surrounded by the women as we waited for the cart to arrive to carry the tiny, wooden casket.When the cart arrived, we formed a procession behind it and walked through the graveyard for nearly half a mile. At one point a woman in front of me screamed in sorrow and collapsed. The woman behind her scooped up some dirt from the path and rubbed into the other woman's skirt- I'm still curious about this ritual- but then they continued on. We walked and walked until we were in a field of weeds and realized this was the part of the graveyard for the poor.There would be no headstone, no marking, simply a dirt hole which was dug while we stood in a circle watching. Teresa is a believer and the pastor spoke in Chingana and then several songs were sung. Since it was the middle of the afternoon, the sun was beating down on us and 2 women passed out from the heat and had to be carried away. The top of the casket was lifted to reveal sweet little Francis, lying peacefully with his blue beanie. The entire procession then walked around the casket and sprayed perfume onto Francis. Being so near to the body, there were many wails of sorrow. I was a mess when I watched Teresa at the funeral but when I approached little Francis, I was surprisingly calm. The verse that kept running through my head was, "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" As I sprayed the perfume around Francis' face, it was so obvious that his spirit was not there- this was merely the shell. I knew without a doubt as I passed by him, that Francis was not in the casket, Francis was running and jumping in heaven.

Once the casket was lowered into the freshly-dug hole, we threw the dirt onto the casket and it was quickly covered. Once there was a mound of dirt, all of the people holding flowers went to the mound and planted the flowers on top of the grave. It was the constructed in a matter of minutes but perhaps most beautiful garden I've seen.

The pastor later thanked us for coming and explained that the "employers" rarely came to such occasions so it made quite an impression. It was difficult to watch Teresa endure such pain and be so helpless to help her and offer any words of encouragement. Since that day, I've yet to see her smile. Please pray for Teresa- that the LORD would restore unto her the joy of salvation; that she would be reminded of where Francis is and that she will one day join him; that she would be strengthened and comforted; that she would not lose faith in God and that He would shower her with His peace.

50 days to soak up Africa

The 50 day count down officially begins today. 50 more days to soak up Africa. 50 more days until Europe. 50 more days to stuff my face with fresh bread, run along the coast, hang out with new friends, laugh with my students, and fellowship with my brothers and sisters here. I am immensely excited about my adventures after Africa, but continue to strive to "make the most of every opportunity because the days are evil" and am trying to soak up every moment. The following are things that I will miss once I leave this mysterious continent and thus, am trying to absorb as much as possible:

MY STUDENTS- of course I will miss these hilarious and sweet kids. Although teaching junior highers has been a new and difficult challenge, it also has been very rewarding and these crazy adolescents will always hold a special place in my heart. The other day they were reading silently and Ude looked up and sweetly said, "Miss Katie? No offense but has anyone ever told you that you look like the White Witch from Narnia?" Awesome. I don't know what's worse, being told I look like a terrifying witch or Kevin Bacon. The kids laughed and laughed until I said I was lowering their grade with each giggle.
One of the junior high girls continually lies about doing her homework- I know that's not funny but I was in a strange mood the other day so when she told one of her lies I made it into a "teaching moment" and taught them a song my friends and I used to sing all the time. Let me preface this by saying it was a song we only sang around Christians because it is terribly untrue and the verse is taken completely out of context. We actually got in trouble for singing it by our youth leader. Why, you may wonder, did I decide to teach such a song to my kids? I really don't know. Sometimes I forget to filter what I say and this was one of those moments. The song lyrics are as follows: "Revelations, Revelations, 21: 8, 21:8. Liars burn in hell, liars burn in hell. Burn, burn, burn. Burn, burn, burn." I know, I know, it's awful and my students learned it quicker than anything else I've tried to teach them this year and sadly, I'll bet it's one of the few things they'll remember. In the picture some of my junior highers are reciting Psalm 1 at the monthly potluck. I tried to convince them to do motions while reciting since they always sound so monotone when they recite verses. They didn't buy it. However, I couldn't resist and when they recited the part about a river, I did the motions for a river and made half of them start giggling. Oops.

We've been having some tough conversations recently about slavery and how people justified it in the past. Teaching about slavery to Africans is, as you can imagine, a sensitive topic. I'll never forget Silvio's face when I mentioned how some people tried to say black people weren't even human. He has these big doe eyes and in a high, squeaky voice he said, "They don't think I'm human?" He said it with such a funny tone of voice that the whole class, including him started laughing. I love that in our world today, suggesting that someone like Silvio isn't human is just plain silly. In the picture, Silvio is the boy throwing the peace sign.

Speaking of teaching tough subjects... in my 9Th and 10Th English class we were reading a story aloud and kept coming across the word, "bosom." The first person pronounced it "boe sum" and I knew no one knew what it was but I just ignored it. Then the second person read it as "boe sum" and I felt guilty for avoiding the awkward conversation but still let it slide. Finally, once the word came up a third time and the new reader also pronounced it wrong, I stopped him and said, "OK...so it's actually pronounced bosom. Do you guys know what that is?" Praying I wouldn't have to explain it I unfortunatley only got confused looks and no snickers so they obviously were oblivious to the meaning. Of course they all busted up laughing when I awkwardly explained what it is.

THE BEACH- although I will be in California, I will miss living a block away from the beach. I will miss my running routes along the coast, watching the sunset behind rows of palm trees. I will miss the sailboats bobbing on the sea and the many fisherman on the wall cheering for me and saying, "forsa! forsa!" as I speed past. (OK so maybe "speed" is the wrong verb) A few weekends ago I was "babysitting" for one of my students when her parents were out of town. We had such a great time at the beach and I felt like a little kid as we searched the shore for sea creatures. We found over 20 live starfish and tons of sand dollars and played with these for hours. Some local boys started collecting the starfish for us so we ended up with a pretty impressive collection.THE LOCALS- I will not miss the begging and persistent vendors, but I will definitely miss the Mozambicans I interact with on the streets. I'll miss Ernesto from the bakery, Isaac from "blockbuster," the security guards I pass each day who never fail to laugh and give me a thumbs up as I breeze past them, and the workers at the gas station where I daily buy snacks. I will miss random encounters like I had the other day while hunting for starfish with Kimberly. There were 3 local boys doing handstands and cartwheels and I was feeling like a little kid and wanted to play with them so I taught them how to do headstands. (my dad said he would only give us money for candy if we could do a headstand for 30 seconds so I used to practice a lot) We then had a cartwheel competition and although I did 10 in a row, I was beat by the 10 year old boy who did 12 in a row. By no means did I let him win just because he's small and poor; I am too competitive for that. I actually ended up shamefully falling on my butt after the 10Th cartwheel. I suppose I can have cartwheel competitions with strangers in America too, but there is something special about doing acrobatics with African children on the beach.

DEPENDENCE ON GOD- living in a third world country obviously changes one's perspective on life and I have loved how living here has forced me to cling tighter to my Savior. Life is much less complicated and hectic here and although I love living in California, I know I will sorely miss the simplicity of Africa. With less worldly distractions, I have discovered a deeper intimacy with God which I am terrified will disappear when I return to the hustle and bustle of life in a developed nation. I see that I am susceptible to falling prey to the lie that I can do everything by my own strength. Living in America, it is so easy to think I am providing for myself and I often fail to acknowledge the many ways God is taking care of me. It has been much easier here in Mozambique to see how God daily provides for me and I have loved the continued reminder of my total dependence on Him.

MY NEW FRIENDS- one way God has provided for me in a big way this year is by providing new friendships. Lisa recently had a birthday so Mada taught me how to make a Brazilian treat which Lisa always has on her birthday. Cocoa + butter+ sweetened condensed milk+ sprinkles= mouth-watering bites of sheer deliciousness. To make these treats which I cannot pronounce so I will not even attempt to spell, one must cover their hands in butter to roll the dough into balls and then roll in sprinkles. This is why Mada and I are smiling although it looks like we have nastiness spread all over our hands. And yes, you'd better believe I licked my hands when I was done. Leila had the less messy job of rolling the balls in the sprinkles but she also didn't get to lick her fingers afterwards. We had a semi-surprise birthday party for Lisa at Mimos and enjoyed some of their famous pizza.












After pizza we went to Lisa and Sabina's apartment to try out the cake Sabina and I had slaved over the night before. We made the mistake of asking Martha Stewart herself (aka Madalena) for a good cake recipe and she gave us quite possibly the most complicated recipe known to man. 10 eggs+ 3 hours+lots of confused looks and laughter= a tasty sponge cake made from scratch.












While enjoying the cake, the topic of "novelty dances" got brought up and Sabina proceeded to bust out her computer and show everyone the videos she had taken of the three of us doing synchronized dances in our pajamas. Not cool Sabina. However, we then convinced the group that they too needed to learn these synchronized dances and had loads of fun doing the random dance moves from Lisa's little town in North Carolina. In the picture below we were all supposed to be doing one of the poses from the dance but for some reason I'm the only one who ended up looking ridiculous and awkward. Why does that keep happening?THE RANDOMNESS OF AFRICA- it's a good thing I got into teaching where random moments happen quite often but they are certainly magnified when living in Mozambique. The other day I was walking briskly on my normal route home and was concentrating on the ground in front of me so I wouldn't fall into a random hole or trip on a giant crack when I came to a sudden halt; a giant tree had been uprooted and was lying right in my path and across the entire street. A fellow walker made a joke to me in Portuguese, surely making fun of the fact that I came within inches of walking right into a giant tree so I laughed with him and continued on. Speaking of holes in the ground, another day there was a traffic jam because a bus had driven over a giant gap in the middle of the street and the wheel got stuck in the giant hole. Only in Maputo. I've recently found a new Muslim grocery store where I've found my favorite loaf bread. Yesterday as I was perusing the 3 aisles, a tiny, old man started chanting super loud right outside the store and I saw the owner grab a giant stick, storm towards the little man and my jaw dropped as he lifted the stick and then swung and hit the wall next to the chanting man and yelled at him to leave. Ahhhhh. Then today I was signing out the students as their parents picked them up from school and very persistent beggar reached his arms through the gate and grabbed my arm. He refused to leave and our guard had to grab a literal club, pull him by the arm and walk him down the street. Ahhhhh. Speaking of security, I was running past the President's house the other day and decided to peak over the gate. When I did, I saw a bunch of guards who all freaked out to see a "peeping Katie" and yelled and signaled for me to cross to the other side of the street. Apparently we're not even allowed to walk on the sidewalk that runs along side his property. I had myself a good giggle as I ran to the other side of the street.

MY DOGS- I can't wait to see Swishy but I will miss my little family of Rhodesian Ridge backs. One of Gizmo's daughters was staying with us for a few weeks so for awhile I was hanging out with Gizmo, Simba (Gizmo's puppy who is quickly turning into a giant) and Miya who was malnourished at first so I fed her with a baby bottle. As you can see, it is quite difficult to take a family picture with 3 dogs.












FELLOWSHIP- I will miss Wednesday night Bible studies and Sunday night worship at the ambassador's home. We recently finished going through the book of Ezra so before beginning Nehemiah, we had a "Vikings dinner." Henrik, being from Scandinavia, was a bit insulted when I explained that a "Vikings dinner" meant we would act somewhat barbaric and eat spaghetti without forks. Each person brought a random kitchen utensil which someone else had to use to eat their spaghetti. I ended up with the strainer which was a bit of a challenge but do-able. Lisa did quite well with her can opener but I had the most fun watching Molly eat with a whisk. We also had pudding for dessert which was eaten with no utensils at all- wonderful excuse to lick my plate clean without looking like a freak.

Besides enjoying fun and random things like Vikings dinners, I also love how much I am learning through these studies. I've never taken such an in-depth look at the history of Israel and it has been so neat to discuss how God has worked in the lives of His chosen people. I also didn't realize how applicable the books of Ezra and Nehemiah can be to our own lives. I've been learning a bunch about repentance, accountability and prayer from these amazing men of faith.

In Ezra chapter 9, Ezra prays a moving prayer after realizing that the Israelites had disobeyed God by marrying foreign wives: "O my God, I am too ashamed and disgraced to lift up my face to you, my God, because our sins are higher than our heads and our guilt has reached to the heavens...But now, for a brief moment, the LORD our God has been gracious in leaving us a remnant and giving us a firm place in his sanctuary and so our God gives light to our eyes and a little relief in our bondage. Though we are slaves, our God has not deserted us in our bondage...What has happened to us is a result of our evil deeds and our great guilt, and yet, our God, you have punished us less than our sins have deserved and have given us a remnant like this...."

In the midst of being exiled, Ezra acknowledged that never did God desert them; rather He offered relief in their bondage. I love that. Ezra didn't rant and rave about being forced to suffer bondage, instead he praised God for being righteous, acknowledged the sin of his people and repented on behalf of Israel. This led to a thought-provoking discussion on repentance and accountability. I can now see that I need to have a more repentant heart. My sins seem often seem small to me but in light of God's holiness, my "little sins" that others might never even notice, are grossly offensive. My prayer is that God would cast a search light on my heart and reveal the true ugliness of my sins to me so I might have more reverence, more repentance and more appreciation for God's amazing forgiveness and grace.

Kitty Kat to Crusader

I have been the following, in chronological order: a kitty kat, krazy kat, polecat, skunk, ladycat, lady warrior, just plain warrior, raider, royal, and now....a crusader! How does one go from being a kitty kat to a crusader? Quick explanation:

* I was a kitty kat for about 5 or 6 years because my dad was my soccer coach and being very democratic, he asked me what I wanted our team to be named. I was a bit obsessed with cats at the time and thus, we became the ferocious kitty kats, and battled against those vicious varmints for first place in the league for years. At that time my brothers were the "dynos" and my sister was a "popple," so I personally believe my team had the best team name.

* After years of dominating the soccer fields as the kitty kats, my friends on the team convinced me that "kitty kats" was no longer cool when we turned 12. Thus, we transformed to the much hipper, "Krazy Kats." Apparently alternative spelling also meant you were cool.

* Every ball-playing girl in Brea with any skills at all was once a polecat, the mascot of the junior high basketball team representing Brea. What is a polecat you ask? We didn't know for years but I recently learned that it is a type of skunk which resembles a weasel...which makes the other mascot quite ironic.

* While representing the city of Brea as a polecat, my dad was training a group of my athletic friends and we became the all-star NJB team. Several of these girls were once kitty kats or krazy kats and when the league called my dad for the team name, my friend Megan happened to be over and blurted out, "let's be the skunks!" Just like that we became the skunks and for the next two years we stunk up the court. Well actually, let's be honest...we dominated. We weren't exactly the coolest of kids in junior high but at least we could ball.

* Continuing with the cat tradition, I went to Brea High School and was a Ladycat before transferring to Troy, ending the cat craze and became a Lady Warrior. Playing as a "lady warrior" prepared me to become a real warrior at Westmont College. After graduating, I taught at Rowland where I was a Raider and coached with my dad at Hope and was a Royal.

* Next year I will follow in the footsteps of my grandma, mom, aunts, uncles, and cousins and become a Vally Christian Crusader! My current students got a kick out of this when I told them about my new mascot since when teaching about the crusades earlier in the year, I explained to them why the term "crusader" is now politically incorrect and many Christian schools are changing their mascot. How did I suddenly become a Crusader? I'm glad you asked...

It all started with a note from my aunt Letty. My Uncle Mike is a principal at Valley so my aunt knew the school was looking for a new girls' b-ball coach and she e-mailed me to see I knew of any friends who would be interested. She didn't ask me because I had taken a leave of absence from my job at Rowland and planned on helping my dad at APU. I had my plans all set. I would continue living at home, teach, coach and get my Masters. Looking back I laugh at how the Lord was speaking to me about something and I didn't even realize it. I kept coming back to Proverbs 16 and it became a chapter very familiar to me- specifically verses 1, 3, and 9 which are the only ones underlined in my Bible.

verse 1: " To man belong the plans of the heart, but from the LORD comes the reply of the tongue."

verse 3: "Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and your plans will succeed."

verse 9: "In his head a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps."

I had my plans all figured out but I was still seeking the Lord's grand plan for my life and sure enough, He would determine my steps which would not lead back to Rowland. While I was home over Christmas, I got a sinking feeling in my gut about following through with "my plans." It's odd because my plan made so much sense but when I got back to Africa, I tossed and turned at night, restless about the next year. I even contemplated staying in Africa longer because something just didn't feel right about my plans. And then I got Aunt Letty's e-mail. Half-joking, I wrote back, "I confess that when you mentioned the Valley position, I thought, "hmmmm...I have loved teaching at a Christian school..." If you know my aunt Letty, it won't surprise you that I was contacted by the school the following day and the ball started rolling.

This happened right before Easter break and I spent much time in Cape Town contemplating if I should apply for the job. It was while hiking the "StairMaster from hell" also known as Table Mountain, that I concluded that I would apply for the job. I had lots of time to think and pray while huffing and puffing up the mountain and thought a lot about what we had been learning at Fellowship about making "wise decisions." Moral of the story: if you need to make a big decision, climb a mountain.The week after Easter break was a hectic one. This is when my tooth got infected, my eczema flared up, the mosquito waged war, I had to calculate quarter grades, was planning a surprise party for Lisa, was deep into my LOST addiction, was planning a swim meet for the whole school, AND filling out the application for Valley. 18 pages later...I finished the application to be a coach and started on the application to be an English teacher. My mom tried to coax me into being less anal about writing novels for my answers but I couldn't resist- I know I am better on paper than on the phone. She also guilted me into watching less LOST so I could finish the applications. I sort of listened but really just skipped out on hours of sleep instead.

Next step,...the phone interview. If you know me well, you know I am not a big fan of the phone and can be incredibly awkward on the phone. Lisa, having done phone interviews for Harvard, gave me some pointers. I got dressed up for the interview...well at least from the waist up. My web cam didn't show my whole self so I was wearing my pajama pants and the only collared shirt I brought. (Yes, it's the same one I wore in the school pictures- I didn't bring many 'professional' clothes here) The tough part about a phone interview is the lack of eye contact and "assuring head nods." I rambled on and on and would pause every once in awhile and say, "Are you still there?" True to awkward form, I confessed that I used to make fun of Valley because my cousins went there and my siblings and I felt superior since we were 'tough' and went to public school. If that wasn't bad enough, I also confessed that I had changed my Skype picture to a normal one because I used to have a scary face picture but I wanted them to think I was professional. "Why Katie why? Why are you offering way more information than they want or need?" These were the thoughts running through my mind as I couldn't control my flapping lips.

Although I'm pretty sure they saw through my "professional" act, they still offered me the job a few days later so I will be the girls' b-ball coach and teaching 5 English classes. I sincerely believe that one of the reasons God brought me to Africa, was to get me to Cerritos. What's crazy is that before my experience here, I never would have wanted to teach English or teach at a Christian school. I can see now how God has been preparing me this year for the next adventure at Valley. Little did I know that when I mentioned to CAM that I would feel comfortable teaching English, that this would be just the experience I would need to teach English at Valley. Now I feel confident that I can teach English although my degree is in history and I also have learned that I enjoy teaching English.

If I had been teaching at Rowland this year, I'm not sure I would have pursued the Valley job. A major deterrent would have been the fact that Valley is a Christian School and I NEVER imagined myself teaching at a Christian school in America. Having gone through the public school system, my heart has always been with these kids. It is such a mission field, full of hurting kids in need of love, attention and direction. I don't think I would have been able to leave this mission field for a Christian school instead, if I hadn't come to Africa first. God brought me to CAM and opened my eyes to the huge need for qualified teachers in Christian schools. These kids also need love, attention and direction. Plus, I can speak openly about living as a Christian so it is much easier to be a positive, Christian influence. My mom once said that I would love teaching anywhere in the world and I think she's right.

Not only did my Aunt Letty find me a job, she also found friends for me. Sad but true. My group of single friends has dwindled to practically non-existent in recent years so I was super excited when Aunt Letty mentioned that some fun, young teachers at Valley were looking for another roommate. Perhaps it is a bit presumptuous of me to call my future roommate friends since I haven't even met them yet, but I can tell by their e-mails that we will get along great. Therefore, in August I will be moving to Cerritos into a house less than 2 miles from the school.

His plans are so much better than my own. I feel so silly for ever worrying about my future. If I continue to seek His will and am obedient to stay in the center of it, what can man do to me? Nothing. What should I worry about? Nothing. His thoughts are higher. His ways are greater. His plan is better.

Faces of CAM

The main reason I came to Africa was for my students. I wanted to minister to the children of missionaries and was pleasantly surprised to find that over half of my students are actually Africans. They have been my main focus despite amazing times at orphanages and the village church of Shiparango. Spending the majority of my time with these blessed children of CAM, I have grown attached and will miss them all. One of my favorite things about teaching at Rowland was the fact that I could still see my past students around campus. This year, saying goodbye will be harder since most likely I won't see these kids ever again. (My friend Megan was a bit morbid and she used to end her notes with "see you in heaven, if not before.") As I reflect on my time in Africa, I have to come to terms with the fact that many of the people I've met here I won't see again...until heaven. What a party that will be! The following are some of the precious faces from CAM, my school, which have made me laugh and scream...but mostly laugh. The following pictures are from picture day. The first one is of the entire school and staff.
Of course we took a funny face picture. I asked the guard to take it and then realized by his facial expression that he had never used a camera before. I'm impressed that he got most of us in the picture:I know these faces are just faces to you, but to me, they are memories. Every single child at this school is so precious and I have loved getting to know each and every one of them.
In the above picture, Mafat is the boy making the Mafia expression. He is exploding with personality and has the cutest little studder because he is always so excited to say whatever he is thinking about. I once sat at my desk after school and kicked him on accident because he was hiding from his twin brother under my desk. He always insists that I show him how I can pick my nose with my tongue and then freaks out when I do it.In the back row of the above picture you'll see Natasha playing with Miria's hair. I would have been friends with these girls in high school. They are constantly laughing and teasing one another, have great senses of humor and are both very bright and studious. Natasha has one of those contagious laughs and the other day she couldn't stop giggling when I grabbed a paper out of the trashcan (long story) and said, "did someone spit in the trashcan?" Of course I picked up the paper covered in her spit and she couldn't stop laughing.

Directly in front of them is Domingos, Natasha's little brother. He has transformed so much this year and it has been so neat to watch God work in his life. At the beginning of the year, he had major attitude and I had to talk with him about respecting authority figures. Now he is one of the most respectful students I've ever had, is super diligent in his studies, and always making me laugh. Domingos is the one who told me I look like Wonder woman and calls me such as he walks past me in the halls. He used to bring the class down with his negativity but now he is constantly volunteering, giving serious answers (he used to give me wrong answers on purpose) and has brought the entire class up because of his new attitude. What is most exciting is to see him pursue a relationship with God. He attends the fellowship group at the ambassador's house on Sunday nights and I heard through the grapevine that his last prayer request when we broke up into groups was to, "have wisdom in my pursuit of becoming more like Christ." It is very evident in his attitude at school that God is answering that prayer and it has been a joy to watch.
The art teacher, Bev, is in the middle in the purple. I hope I have as much energy as this woman when I am her age. She is such an encourager and is always telling others about the latest thing that God is teaching her. I love that. I can be a little kid at times and won't eat the crust on my bread so she always eats is for me.
How adorable are these kids?? Don't you just want to pinch their cheeks? Esther is sporting the pink scrunchy with her arms crossed and her older sister Veronica is striking a similar pose behind her. Although giving off the impression of having attitude, nothing could be further from the truth. They are both so incredibly sweet. Esther has now made it a point to hug me every time she sees me. Those who know me well, know that I'm not much of a hugger but getting hugs from cute 5 year olds is a different story. Daniel is in the background waving at me- he also is quite the hugger. I was having a rough day and was leaving the campus but right before I passed through the gate, he came running up to me from his PE class just to hug me and say goodbye. How can one stay cranky after that?
As previously mentioned, in this picture I captured Miria and Natasha in their typical pose. Also in the back row, some of my boys noticed me sneaking pictures and opted for "cool" poses. Igor is popping his collar (is that the right expression?) and next to him, Ude went for the classic "tongue out" pose. Both of these boys are incredibly bright and very special to me- well all my students are. I had to work to win Igor's affections since as seen in the picture, he seems to feel "too cool for school" but he actually said goodbye to me the other day before I initiated it. I was thrilled. Ude on the other hand giggles if I just look at him. He and his older brother Oko are the South African boys belonging to the Xhosa tribe with the "clicking" language.How sweet to be able to pray as an entire school! One of my favorite things is listening to little kids pray. The other day, one of the first graders was praying and thanked God for the Chinese and their ninja skills.

My ninth and tenth graders are my largest class- a whopping 10 students- and I get to have them twice a day, once for English and then for economics. I was not exactly jazzed about teaching economics since I'm not a fan of math, but it's actually turned out to be much less painful than I anticipated and a few of my students seem to really enjoy it. Others have told me it is against their religion to study economics but for the most part they are understanding the concepts and doing well in the class. I had a nightmare the other night because I couldn't decide where to invest my money and was very worried about it. I woke up laughing at myself- never before have I dreamt about mutual funds- probably because I didn't know what they were until this year. It's true- it belongs in the category of "things you should know about by the time you're 25" so I felt silly asking, but at least now I know:) Here my students are proudly displaying their advertisement for a fictitious product they invented.
The week we returned from Easter break was spent planning and preparing for the annual "Swim Fest" which is a swim meet that the entire school participates in. Besides the typical races, we also had "treading water" competitions, relays, and the "biggest splash" competition. Teaching swimming was one of many "unexpected blessings" I've experienced in Mozambique. Here are a few shots from my last official day of swimming at the Swim Fest.
























Every year I grow so attached to my students and this year is no different. It has been such a joy to get to know all my students on a much more personal level than I can in huge schools. I cannot imagine myself teaching in the States and going over to my students' homes to babysit, have dinner and play basketball. Teaching in a small missionary school provides this unique opportunity to really invest in the lives of each of my students and I have loved it!

Fools and Honest Abe

Coming from a line of practical-jokers, I've always loved April Fools Day. On no other day can you tell bold-faced lies, toying with the emotions of others and then say 2 magic words and the "victim" is not allowed to get mad at you: "APRIL FOOLS!" Although I've suffered from playing several "jokes gone bad" in my day, I still love to try to fool people and hope they won't break the rules and get upset. I recently discovered that this hilarious day is one of my Aunt Charlene's favorite holidays and she tricks her family nearly every year. I love it. This year my brother text my mom during her business meeting with a message which read: "mom, got in a bad accident. car is totaled. on the way to hospital." Motherly instincts kicked in and completely forgetting the date, she panicked and fled the meeting and called Trav. "APRIL FOOLS!" he exclaimed and my poor, trusting mother had to return with her head lowered in shame, admitting that she had been fooled. It's always more fun to do the fooling than to be fooled:) This idea of being fooled and being a fool is a topic which has come up a lot lately. I'm beginning to think God is trying to tell me something...The following are examples of ways I've been a fool and I've learned about foolishness.

I did it again. I bought cabbage thinking it was lettuce. A few years ago I did this when my family needed lettuce for tacos and my dad cracked up when I said, as I was tearing the lettuce, "gosh, this lettuce feels like rubber." After suffering from the ridicule of not knowing what a head of lettuce looks like, you'd think I'd never make that mistake again. Wrong. I made it again the other day and what's worse is that I inspected the cabbage closely to be sure it was lettuce. Third time's a charm?

My friends Lisa and Sabina are both super smart. They're Princeton grads- they have to be. My attempts to fool them into thinking I was also intellectual and sophisticated like a Princeton grad lasted for about 2 days. Lisa recently was accepted to the Kennedy School. I knew this was a big deal but had no idea where or what the Kennedy School is. When I overheard someone congratulate Lisa for getting into Harvard I said, "Harvard is the Kennedy School?" She was gracious and didn't mock me and confessed she didn't say "Harvard" because it sounded like bragging. She's so humble:) Sabina and I baked Lisa a cake as a congrats for getting into Harvard's graduate program. I love that although Sabina is super smart as well, she does silly things like getting her arm stuck in marshmallow and when we were playing "Cinque!" (also known to some as the celebrity game) the clue was "basketball player" and she yelled out, "Michael Jackson!" Oh and just to clarify, "parabens" means congratulations in Portuguese.

I was recently riding in the back of a truck with a student and we had every one's backpacks with us in the back. Foolish. Driving through the clogged streets of Maputo, we were stopped at a light when two men walked by, saw the many bags and saw two foolish targets. One man tried to distract us by hitting the side of the truck while the other reached into the truck and tried to grab the bag sitting next to me. He wasn't very committed however because when I said, "Hey!" and grabbed the bag as well he continued walking. Not a very intriguing "near-mugging" tale but we weren't being wise by putting valuables out in the open.

At Sunday night fellowship we've been watching DVDs by Andy Stanley and the theme has been on wisdom. One of the sermons was about being wise with how we spend our time and I was continually convicted as I thought about all the episodes of LOST I've been watching recently. I had never seen the show before coming here but now, after hours and hours of sheer entertainment, I am almost completely caught up on the 4Th season. I'm not saying that TV is evil but I have been foolish with my time lately in that I've been staying up til 2 in the morning, engaged in this epic adventure called Lost and have thus been a bit groggy at school. Don't misunderstand me and think I am saying that watching Lost is foolish. Oh contrare. It is a brilliant show which you really must watch from the beginning but I have been foolish with how I've gotten so addicted that I suffer from lack of sleep because I can't practice self-discipline.

The other day I was walking into a store and heard the obnoxious "cat-calling" whistle. Usually Mozambican men try to get a woman's attention with a very annoying "hisssss" so I was surprised to hear the tradition "wooooot wooo." (best attempt to type a whistle sound) Anyways, I refused to acknowledge, the whistling continued, I rolled my eyes and hurried into the store. Once inside, the whistling didn't stop and I thought, "this moron is persistent and about ready to get the look of death if I see him." I peeked in the back room where the whistling was coming from...It was a bird in a cage...I laughed and felt incredibly foolish.

My philosophy when sick or hurt may be considered to be "foolish" although I'm still not completely convinced. My philosophy: "Ignore the problem and it will go away." This mantra has worked wonders for me in the past but for about a week I felt like the Egyptians suffering from plague after plague. It started with an old ailment called eczema. I've suffered from this non-contagious dry skin disease since I was little. While playing basketball in college, my knuckles would crack and bleed so I was continually sucking the blood off my hands during games so I wouldn't have to leave the court. Dry skin pretty much sucks and has led to several trips to the dermatologist but usually only comes during dry weather. This was the first "winter" in which I didn't have my "old lady hands" and it was wonderful. Then the Mozambican winter started...You haven't known what itching feels like until you've had a thigh covered in an eczema rash. The large gashes are from where I've scratched so hard, I've dug holes into my legs. Attractive huh?

Some of you may be thinking, "Why on earth is she posting disgusting pictures of her rash on her blog?" Quite frankly, it's a good question but if I'm reflecting on physical ailments I've been dealing with, I can't just ignore the nasty rash covering my legs. Oh and yes, I had this rash while still teaching swimming and stood proudly in my speedo, yelling instructions across the pool while the entire crowd watched the crazy American girl with the strange rash on her legs. It could be worse. While blog-stalking, I came across the following picture of a girl who was having treatment for a backache while in Korea. This is another reason why my philosophy is brilliant. If you do try to solve your physical ailment, things like "cupping" happen and you are left with giant hickeys all over your back.

While suffering from my itchy legs, a mosquito decided to wage war against me one night. I haven't been needing the mosquito net lately,...or so I thought. I woke up in the middle of the night with no less than 10 bites on each arm! Never before have I desired to have 4 hands but at that moment, I couldn't scratch each limb simultaneously and it was torture. A few days later, I did a genius move and sliced my finger open while opening a rusty can. Luckily the Butlers and Emelda supplied me with well-stocked first aid kits which I have been putting to good use lately.

And finally, my most painful physical ailment stemmed from the fact that I have incredibly weak teeth. It's true. Trent and I got the "weak teeth" gene and have visited the dentist already more than most people ever will in their lifetime. Before moving to Africa, I went to the dentist to take care of all my issues to ensure I wouldn't have any teeth problems while here. I had 3 or 4 root canals in the span of a few weeks right before I left. (a sign of someone who has terrible teeth: they lose count of how many root canals, crowns and bridges they have) While in Cape Town, I began to feel the old familiar tooth pain but I followed my philosophy and did nothing. Eventually I was grimacing so I gave in and took Advil. (this was a big step for me. I've always hated taking any type of medicine. ) Pretty soon I was researching just how much Advil one can take before there are serious consequences. To fall asleep at night I had to ice my jaw since the entire left side of face was swelling. (still not too concerned at that point and opted to do nothing) I finally caved after days of intense tooth pain and started thinking about seeing a dentist. I don't have fear of dentists. Quite the opposite actually. I usually befriend them since I become such a regular.

However, the thought of seeing a dentist in Mozambique did not excite me. Our empragada (maid) had a really swollen face and when I asked about it, I found out that the dentist had pulled a tooth and messed up on the Novocaine. Wonderful. I got a recommendation from several different missionaries to see a certain Dr. Zaid, who is South African and speaks English. (communication with your dentist really is essential) When I showed up at the office, I felt like I was walking onto the set of a horror film. You want your dentist office to be clean but there just aren't many clean buildings in Maputo and as I sat on the plastic covered chairs, staring at the dirt on the walls, I started praying:) The dentist turned out to be incredibly knowledgable...about teeth. I was a bit worried when he asked me what province I was from in the United STATES of America. I grew more concerned when I said I lived on the West Coast and he asked me if I could see Japan from there. "It's OK Katie, you're not that great at geography either. This is not a reflection on his dentisting skills." He performed a simple test which involved hitting my teeth with a metal tool and asking which one hurt the most. They all did. I felt like such a baby as I yelped every time he hit a tooth but it reeeeeeally hurt. Once he'd determined which tooth was the problem (after 2 rounds of make the American girl scream) he took an x-ray. He informed me that the problem tooth already had a root canal but the root was infected and I would need to see a specialist to perform surgery to cut off the tips of my dead roots. Excellent. The good news is he also gave me a prescription for antibiotics and painkillers. In following with the "fool" theme, I didn't take the antibiotics for a few days because I could not figure out the "child-proof" bottle. I finally asked a student (yes, a child) to open it for me. Ironic?....just plain pathetic? After taking the pills for a few days, the pain and swelling subsided and I stopped taking them. I have a reason this time though- if this infected root gives me problems in Europe, I want to be prepared. Dr. Zaid was incredibly friendly and e-mailed me the following day with the picture of my tooth. Still not totally sure why- I guess to show the specialist? I thought, "Oh good, this will be perfect for the blog." Moral of the story: my philosophy in dealing with physical ailments is sometimes foolish.

I've also been getting words of wisdom about "foolishness" from reading the book of Proverbs. My pastor from home once recommended reading a chapter of Proverbs every day since there are 31 chapters- 1 for each day of the month. In doing this and don't get me wrong, I have missed many days, but this pattern of reading Proverbs often, has been giving me more and more insight into the idea of wisdom and foolishness. Throughout the book of Proverbs, a "fool" is described in many ways and often juxtaposed with a wise man. (that's right I used juxtaposed in a sentence.) I want to be that wise man and not the fool so I continue to read the Proverbs, searching for guidance as to how to be "wise." An apt example of this juxtaposition is Proverbs 28:26 "He who trusts in himself is a fool but he who walks in wisdom is kept safe." I confess that I am often guilty of trusting in myself rather than in God but He continues to point me to the path where I am reliant upon Him.

I love Proverbs 2:3-6 because it offers such hope: "and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God. For the LORD gives wisdom, and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding." My prayer is that I will continue to search for wisdom with such passion as is described so I will not be a fool and will gain an increased reverence for and knowledge of our All-wise creator.

My friend Katie recently wrote a blog entry about saying foolish things. She is one of the wittiest people I know so I highly recommend you check out her blog and read about her recent foolish mishaps. In her April 10Th entry she quoted Abraham Lincoln: "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt." - Abraham Lincoln. The same week Katie wrote this, a student of mine wrote a current event and in reflecting about the event, used that exact same quote. Coincidence? Or God trying to speak to me through ol' Honest Abe? Still not sure. I wonder if Abe said this line after reading Provers 17:28 which says, "Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue."

This year God has been impressing upon my heart the need to be careful with my words, using them more sparingly. He's been showing me the power of words and necessity of thinking carefully before speaking so as to avoid the folly of fools. Fools speak quickly and negatively about others and I don't want to be no fool. (Did anyone else just picture Mr. T saying, "I pity the fool....!"?) Sprinkled throughout Proverbs are lessons about the power of words and the importance of being wise with our words. Proverbs 10:19 says, "When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise," and Proverbs 12:18 says, "Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing." Solomon also wrote that, "He who answers before listening- that is his folly and his shame" (18:13) and again, "He who guards his mouth and his tongue keeps himself from calamity." (21:23)I have been convicted by these Proverbs and others to close my lips more often and listen more intently.

I realize I often end my blog entrys with a "Danny Tanner moment" but I am going to deviate from the pattern and end with quotes from the personification of foolishness. I give you....Michael Scott. It is often painful to watch The Office because of this man who is the epitamy of a "fool" to such an extreme that you can't help but groan and laugh. Here are a few memorable lines from the lovable boss and fool:

Michael Scott: I’m an early bird and a night owl. So I’m wise and I have worms.

Michael Scott: Abraham Lincoln once said that "If you're a racist, I will attack you with the North," and these are the principles I carry with me in the workplace.

Michael Scott: When I said that I was king of forwards, you got to understand that I don't come up with this stuff. I just forward it along. You wouldn't arrest a guy who was just passing drugs from one guy to another.

Michael Scott:Yes. It is true. I, Michael Scott, am signing up with an online dating service. Thousands of people have done it, and I am going to do it. I need a username, and... I have a great one. "Little Kid Lover". That way people will know exactly where my priorities are at.

Michael Scott:You'll notice, I didn't have anybody being Arab. I thought that would be too explosive, uh, no pun intended. But I just thought, "too soon" for Arabs, maybe next year. You know, the ball's in their court.

Michael Scott: People I respect, heroes would be, Bob Hope, Abraham Lincoln, definitely. Bono, ah, and probably God, would be the fourth one. And I...I just think those people really, helped the world, in so many ways. That it's, it's really beyond words. It's really incalculable.

Michael Scott: Society teaches us that, having feelings and crying is bad and wrong. Well, that's baloney, because grief isn't wrong. There's such a thing as good grief. Just ask Charlie Brown.

Michael Scott: Yeah, I went hunting once. Shot a deer in the leg. Had to kill it with a shovel. Took about an hour. Why do you ask?

Michael Scott: I’m very fast. I’m like Forest Gump except…I am not an idiot.