Thank God for Land Rovers

For this week's Friday's favorite I thought I'd share some fun driving photos out and about in town.  These pictures depict why these roads are considered 'back roads' here in Lome.  In rainy season I don't even know why you'd bother!

The first of many times that we asked, "How deep do you think this water really is?"

Of course if you have dirt and water you will always have mud....and plenty of it!

Higher priority...dry feet or a phone call?

We kept on following this guy in front of us so we knew how deep it got.

My favorite water crossing of the day: A guy on a motor bike had to stick his feet straight up in front of him here while driving to avoid getting wet while his bike was under water (at least three feet deep!) Unfortunately, no photo.   This is where he crossed.

This trip across town was to the hospitality center.  Thanks to the ongoing rain here (and perhaps lack of a good sewer system), while the drive to the hospitality center is usually a 15 minute car ride, we eventually made it to the center in a little over an hour with our water-filled detours.  Those bumpy, back roads take quite a while to get through!   

Every day in Africa provides opportunity to broaden my perspective further.  In regard to the oh-so-pleasant driving conditions here this week on our roller coaster of a car ride, as the saying goes, I guess you never fully realize what you've got until it's gone!  

Our Trans Togo Trek

What do you get when you cross eight Mercy Shippers, one car and the national highway of Togo? A trans-Togo trek! Togo is roughly the same size as West Virginia. However, unlike West Virginia it’s very long and thin when viewed on a map. So we thought it would be fun to say we walked across Togo in a day. Could we do it? Others had tried before and failed, but we set out bright-eyed and excited for our 36 mile adventure at 4:45 in the morning one fine Saturday about a month ago.  (Just slightly behind in the blogging here)…
P.S. The umbrella was for the sun...when it eventually came out. 

It was a quick car ride in the wee hours of the morning to the Ghana border across town. Here we are starting our adventure in the dark.

Murray was our trusty driver who stopped about every mile and a half to give us food, water and make sure we stretched. We wouldn’t have been able to do this adventure without him.  We got to walking as the sun came up. You’d be amazed at the number of Africans out running at 5am in the dark with us (many barefoot nonetheless!) Now Jen and I are definitely the shortest in the group, and we had to run to keep up for the first few miles as the pace was so quick! I guess that’s what you get for walking with some tall folks (although at five foot three I guess most people are taller than me).

We were making good time by our return to the ship about 2 hours later. It was here that Liz, Jen and Tim said goodbye as we continued onward. So the four remaining walkers (Estelle, Haley, Ben and I) and Murray continued onward on the main international highway as the day got hotter.

Here we are at our halfway point below. By this time Estelle was finished. While we didn't see too many cattle as this sign would suggest, we did see a zimi accident with bodies covered by the palm leaves (unfortunately all too common here) as well as a naked man hanging out on the side of the road.  Never a dull moment in Africa! 

A much deserved Tampico stop for Haley and Ben

Bathroom Break for us all!...where we also ran into some other Mercy Shippers enjoying a day at Lake Togo. 

We are excited to be at the 26.2 mile marathon mark and still feeling good...only ten more miles to go!



But shortly after, our day long adventure began to feel more like the Trans Togo Trudge.  With blisters on our feet and still miles to go, we were not all smiles. It was also at this point that the Adele song came on in my i-pod, asking “Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavement?” Very fitting, and we all had a good laugh.  Here we are emerging through the African grass, and me with my umbrella in the hot sun.

Below, this picture was where I just about gave up. The pain in my right foot was shooting up my leg with every step I took.   Nonetheless we trudged onward. I don't think I would have made it if Ben and Haley hadn't kept on going. 
  

The killing point though was when Murray said he was going to head onward to go to the border. When he didn’t come back after a good 25 minutes (mind you he was driving) we got a little worried. Ben called him on the cell. “Murray where are you? How far away is it?” Murray’s response: “I’ll tell you when I see you.” Uh oh. Not a good sign…

But eventually, after much more walking on the day we thought would never end – Aneho – the last village before the border. With a second wind we continued onward. Enjoying some nice scenery with some train tracks below.

Crossing the bridge to the border!

And victory! I have never been so excited to get into a car and rest at that point.  After 36 miles in one day....

...I can safely say this is something I will never, ever do again, nor recommend for anyone else!  But we did it.  From Ghana through Togo to Benin, we walked across the country we’ve called our home this year. And four weeks later, sadly, I’ve still got the blisters on my feet to prove it!

Reverse Yovo-Phobia

This week's Friday's favorite involves a cute little African child and an area known as the fishing village.  The fishing village is a very poor part of town, where people live in banana leaf huts in rather close living quarters.  The kids play in the ten foot high trash piles and I'm sure the food (not to mention clean water) is hard to come by. 

I happen to be doing some nutrition education in the fishing village on a day in which the people of this small community were getting free grub courtesy of Mercy Ships.  As you would expect, mass chaos ensued.  People were everywhere.   Kids running around screaming and playing while the mamas and papas stood in lines held off by crowd control tape.  The food was being sorted and taken at a local church.  I'd never seen so many people come out of the woodwork to attend. 

After my nutrition teaching was over, I sat down for a bit with the kids, waiting for the food hand-outs to finish.  A little girl crawled on my lap while we sang for who knows how long with the other children.  When I got up to help with the food delivery, this little girl on my lap started screaming.  So I picked her up and toted her around for a bit.  After a while I needed a break so I put her back down.  The lungs of steel came out.  I couldn't let her go without people staring at me like, "why don't you just pick her up?"  We did this scenario probably three more times.  Each time I set her down to work she would follow me around and grab onto my leg and just let it out. I wondered where in the world was her mother amidst all these people?  But I had no such luck in finding her. 

I was asked to help out with food sorting so I set her down again. I was looking at this other lady next to me and her child was tucked so nicely on her back in the typical African fashion.  The lightbulb went off.  I asked to borrow her extra cloth (which the African ladies here seem to have plenty to share) and I put this little girl on my back.  For the next 30 minutes I got quite a few bickers from the African teenagers but I had found my relief from the constant screaming at last. 

Then, just as we were finishing our sorting, guess who decides to show up?....Mama!  She didn't want her back quite yet so this now hushed little girl continued to stay content on my back.  Her name was Julie I learned.  Where Mama had gone, and why had she left her child amidst such chaos for more than an hour?  Never did figure that one out. 

The name for white people here is yovo, and you often hear the term "yovo-phobia" especially on the ward where the kids want nothing to do with the white folks that prod and poke them.  But here in the fishing village, while, even if it was a nuisance, I guess it was better to have reverse yovo-phobia and get a little love from the Africans than to have no love at all!

Here are some other cuties from my day in the village

Check out these teeth!

and my favorite...

she would not stop smiling! 

It was another memorable day with these people that I've come to love!

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Finding Joy In Africa

A few of my friends have this linked to their blog, and I love these thoughts. (Not written by me, but these thoughts are said so well).  For more, check out mochaclub.org 

When I think of Africa, the following images immediately come to mind: Starvation. AIDS. Child soldiers. Genocide. Sex slaves. Orphans. From there, my thoughts naturally turn to how I can help, how I can make a difference. "I am needed here," I think. "They have so little, and I have so much." It's true, there are great tragedies playing out in Africa everyday. There is often a level of suffering here that is unimaginable until you have seen it, and even then it is difficult to believe. But what is even harder is reconciling the challenges that many Africans face with the joy I see in those same people. It's a joy that comes from somewhere I cannot fathom, not within the framework that has been my life to this day.

The images spilling out of my television showed circumstances that could seemingly only equal misery, and I was fooled. I bought into the lie that circumstance defines happiness. The truth is, in Africa I find hearts full of victory, indomitable spirits. In places where despair should thrive, instead I find adults dancing and singing, and children playing soccer with a ball crafted of tied up trash. Instead of payback, I find grace. Here, weekend getaways are not options to provide relief from the pains of daily life. Relationships and faith provide joy. Love is sovereign.

My new reality… I know now that my joy should have no regard for my circumstances. I'm ashamed by my lack of faith, but at the very same moment I am excited by my new pursuit. I'm forced to redefine the meaning of having much or having little. I'm uneasy with the prospect of change and of letting go, but just the thought of freedom is liberating. I want what I have learned to trickle down from my head into my heart - I no longer want to need the "next thing" to have joy.

I'm not saying that Africa does not need our efforts. It absolutely does need our partnership. But for me, I've come to understand that I need Africa more than Africa needs me. Why? Because it is Africa that has taught me that possessions in my hands will never be as valuable as peace in my heart. I've learned that I don't need what I have and that I have what I need. These are just a few of this continent's many lessons. I came here to serve and yet I've found that I have so much to learn, and Africa, with all its need, has much to teach me.

Many in the west think Africa is simply an object of charity. This mindset does not breed true compassion. And there's something about truth… when it becomes clear, it hits you in a way that is hard to ignore. The same is true with people. If we invest in knowing someone, love is the automatic response. We can't all make a trip across the ocean, but we can seek to have a conversation that recasts the images that force pity over partnership. Why do you need Africa more than Africa needs you?