tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52082579881787894892024-03-06T03:23:31.694+02:00Out of Africa...Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-57793116650358334862013-06-03T20:14:00.004+02:002013-06-03T20:14:47.833+02:00Voice Of The Voiceless
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Back in the day, I used to be the Journalism Club tutor at <st1:place><st1:placename>Tirrim</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Secondary School</st1:placetype></st1:place>. Twice a week I
would sit down with the kids and plan out potential news stories to cover, edit
the kids’ written results, type it all up in a fancy Word Publisher document,
and then have my pupils present their “Voice of The Voiceless” newsletter at
the school assembly. Well, the tradition continues! I have included here a few
excerpts from this week’s ever enlightening “Voice of The Voiceless.”</span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Note: The following article describes the students’ viewpoint
on the heightened discipline brought about this week by the Teacher On Duty,
Mr. John. Mr. John always takes his job very seriously, and when it is his turn
to “be on duty,” (regulate school functions for the week) the students are
inevitably more committed to their studies and far more punctual. For the
pupils, school is no longer just a place to get good meals (hence the “feeding
camp” comment), but a place to really get involved in a disciplined academic
culture.</span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">School
Insider: Real Moments in <st1:place><st1:placename>Tirrim</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>High
School</st1:placetype></st1:place></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Written
by: Reporter Thomas Idi</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Wow! “Wonders will never cease to
happen!” is a common saying among all <st1:stockticker>TSS</st1:stockticker>
students and teachers who are generalizing what has happened during the
remarkable week of the 26th-30th of May. It has been a unique and active moment
in Tirrim High. “Army training in the camp” gives a picture of what I mean
exactly. The week was a super display of what school should look like. The
rumor, “School is a feeding camp,” should be erased and completely buried if
coming T.O.D.s (Teachers On Duty) will be acting likewise. Time consciousness
was the big activity that teachers demanded students to observe. Early in the
dawn the classes were as silent as a cemetery with a uniformed and busy army.
Therefore, time management should be observed in school and coming weeks should
be like this particular week.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfabGLCaQQCShiHEvx8RkOCF27Rig9-_k5KlylybOVmJfn0a2rEmMWz07YRgAY82ZRa-LWxF9oLifh3aY_WeS796V8kxWEKR5wz2lvO2v5cVSwK9u6AiG7aTqCfx99xoqPPJOH-pThb4Y/s1600/small+edit020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPfabGLCaQQCShiHEvx8RkOCF27Rig9-_k5KlylybOVmJfn0a2rEmMWz07YRgAY82ZRa-LWxF9oLifh3aY_WeS796V8kxWEKR5wz2lvO2v5cVSwK9u6AiG7aTqCfx99xoqPPJOH-pThb4Y/s400/small+edit020.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas Idi reads his report to the school at assembly on Monday morning.</td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Making Your Day A
Little Brighter</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When things go wrong, when the road you are
treading seems all uphill, when friends disappear and enemies increase, when
you are alone and all seems hopeless, or when friends discourage you,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>keep your heart pure and devoted to Jesus
Christ and He promises always to be with you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Words to live by: “Come to me all
you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you REST.” Matthew 11:28</span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-43913858531658244192013-06-01T15:46:00.001+02:002013-06-01T15:48:17.345+02:00My Girls<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJ_zrRg1DGEoouRK7B-yX3HNXkbK_FlKvsi4YCo33bmtuHLmLCUA53VA-1gqve-0S6i3FOJ03jCQFXFdApri0uS1jEYRaWgBCVhq9dG4RDtrYN1WYjmf5Dfc1PjYXijId0IHKecgPIGBE/s1600/small+edit032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJ_zrRg1DGEoouRK7B-yX3HNXkbK_FlKvsi4YCo33bmtuHLmLCUA53VA-1gqve-0S6i3FOJ03jCQFXFdApri0uS1jEYRaWgBCVhq9dG4RDtrYN1WYjmf5Dfc1PjYXijId0IHKecgPIGBE/s400/small+edit032.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tirrim Secondary Ladies: (From Top Left) Naiseku, Catherine, Esther, Janet. (Bottom Left) Justina, Ann. I'm the white lady in the middle.</td></tr>
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<br />Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-52508584299725804012013-06-01T15:37:00.000+02:002013-06-01T15:40:31.010+02:00Intentionality and Growth<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Friends and I have been praying for me to be able to have really intentional times and conversations
with my former female students while in Kenya, and yesterday I had the coolest
chat with two of them, Naiseku and Catherine. We were meant to have a girls’
football game, but the coach had to run off and deal with a medical emergency,
so Naiseku, Catherine, and I parked on the sidelines of the football field,
watching the boys kick around the ball, and dust. I asked both of them, “Can
you tell me one thing the Lord has been teaching you during the past year?” and
they both had ready responses!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmgb6URZQXeDi7oS8eQvH-iKzYKaUt4nULh4ZQxumXGR9H_sBlsUNfrqU_yu9JLGE9SHDrRa6OLYmv7mToUyyuIv5qhDvU-4hrKQjNBI-GjSDmu-fK4WjF4dc9R5zJj2IkPRFbCupZ9H0z/s1600/small+edit035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmgb6URZQXeDi7oS8eQvH-iKzYKaUt4nULh4ZQxumXGR9H_sBlsUNfrqU_yu9JLGE9SHDrRa6OLYmv7mToUyyuIv5qhDvU-4hrKQjNBI-GjSDmu-fK4WjF4dc9R5zJj2IkPRFbCupZ9H0z/s400/small+edit035.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Catherine and I at Tirrim Secondary</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Catherine is a young lady who
actually got pregnant her first term of secondary school (my first year of
teaching at Tirrim.) We had to send her home on a one year probation, but I
kept up with her quite frequently throughout the rest of my time in Korr. (Her
son, Gideon, was eventually born on my birthday, January 30<sup>th</sup>! I got
to visit mother and child a couple of times out in their hometown of Logologo.)
So, as you might imagine, Catherine has been learning quite a bit about God’s
grace through her early years of motherhood. She says that she has become
keenly aware of how many blessings the Lord has given her and what an
incredible and joyful responsibility she now has to live for Him! Catherine
also explained how she has taken it upon herself to counsel other young ladies
about physical relationships with “those boys” (spoken disdainfully) outside of
marriage. Both she and Naiseku tell me that they remember the Bible studies we
did together and how I told them that every time you sleep with a boy, pieces
of your heart get connected to theirs like the wires of the chain-link fence
around our schoolyard. Catherine now uses her perspective as a single mother,
“who has done a mistake in the past,” to advise her peers to shut out the lies
of evil men and to keep oneself pure before the Lord. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWw9OOF5SyTUQu7u7lZuTime887KkdH8wShEYWRm6c9uksIAHczwD9SBufB5FobBBV0ATjENsJNwqMJd5kYP95yCqoiO1ZbQhIS-owUMh9OYJWO_KvNxyHYqpgJ5w7PABUHeEYG6trpKD/s1600/small+edit036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWw9OOF5SyTUQu7u7lZuTime887KkdH8wShEYWRm6c9uksIAHczwD9SBufB5FobBBV0ATjENsJNwqMJd5kYP95yCqoiO1ZbQhIS-owUMh9OYJWO_KvNxyHYqpgJ5w7PABUHeEYG6trpKD/s400/small+edit036.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Naiseku and I at Tirrim Secondary </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Naiseku then explained to me the
extreme grief she suffered during her father’s battle with cancer and his later
death. She told me how hard she tried to keep herself together, not sharing her
anguish with her friends or even to the Lord, but how it is too much to bear
the burden of death alone. We then talked about her baba being a Believer, and that
while death is still massively sorrowful event, it is only so for those left
behind, not the Christian in Heaven. She smiled when she thought of her father currently
in <st1:place>Paradise</st1:place> and no longer in pain. Death is never right,
but Naiseku now sees how the family of Believers in the Church and in her
school can be a valuable ally with their weapon of prayer and admonishments to
remember the eternal comfort Christ offers. She concluded that the Lord allows
trials, even as excruciating as death, but that He provides the strength to not
only survive, but move on and thrive. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Amin! (As the Rendille say.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-42658457604816847172013-05-30T12:05:00.000+02:002013-05-30T12:05:00.705+02:00Indable Teaches Class 5 English<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYxH68au3AX7sLiqZZIV8IKQqmahSJYGOyeR2x6bbkT6a31GrWZbGbSRRec7inFP2xOMlKBK6FjhVQl9_iySEYM29GZLVzxz4ElGEUZ-gO504vGjKqyQ3DzAIFBXp71scP-X7Mmn3KsOt/s1600/small+edit002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYxH68au3AX7sLiqZZIV8IKQqmahSJYGOyeR2x6bbkT6a31GrWZbGbSRRec7inFP2xOMlKBK6FjhVQl9_iySEYM29GZLVzxz4ElGEUZ-gO504vGjKqyQ3DzAIFBXp71scP-X7Mmn3KsOt/s400/small+edit002.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Indable is one of my former Tirrim
Secondary School English students with whom I always had a wonderful working
relationship and good rapport. His English is delightfully advanced as well,
which allowed him to communicate very well with me, sharing details about
Rendille culture, acting as my translator, and even writing out his
autobiography for me to read!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Indable is now in the midst of the
ambiguous year following graduation from secondary school. During this year the
Form Four graduates must wait around for months for their national exam results
to come in. Many of these students use this time to take computer or driving
classes in more modern towns, while some choose instead to stay around home
doing odd jobs. Indable was originally planning to attend a Christian discipleship
program with another <st1:stockticker>AIM</st1:stockticker> missionary in a <st1:place>Northern
Kenya</st1:place> town, but when that fell through, he was offered a position
as the Class 4 and 5 English teacher at <st1:place><st1:placename>Tirrim</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Primary School</st1:placetype></st1:place>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I walked up to the primary school this
morning to observe my protégé at work. (Just kidding! I only taught the kid for
a year…) I was immediately impressed with Indable’s classroom management skills!
His students were so calm, attentive, and respectful, which is a shocker if you’ve
been in hearing distance of a Kenyan primary school classroom. Indable was also
very attune to involving his pupils in the lesson, inviting them up to the
board to put quotation marks around direct speech and asking them to stand and
give a sentence that used an adverb of manner. I was so proud of “my” student
now working with his own. He is not only in an honorable position, but he is
doing honorable work in that position. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I asked Indable later what he now thinks
about being a teacher instead of a student and he said, “Madame, it is very
different,” with a slightly exasperated smile on his face. Good man.</span> <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-7706606085262201662013-05-28T20:50:00.003+02:002013-05-28T20:50:42.157+02:00Avocado
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">What the what?! Somebody had
avocados shipped in to Korr! Mr. Wanga showed up at school during lunchtime
with an avocado he reported to have purchased in town, so in the afternoon I
roamed <st1:street><st1:address>Main Street</st1:address></st1:street>
seeking out the scent of elusive fruit. Two shops and one very helpful church momma
later and I had my pick from two boxes worth! Here are the “fruits”
of my labor.</span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> (I also found tomatoes.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiIncAH4v63GOI_u6TxsrtWAidKYp8DlKQ1Tka8v7PK8VWetzZWrektq9j5qq3tMvVaLBfxgkKEzHDNprr3TqU2I_FU_itfqgYdUAv1eG7DWp5NnIzq7RA-VuiSxlyX8-x4Yak5dfwXud/s1600/small+edit016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiIncAH4v63GOI_u6TxsrtWAidKYp8DlKQ1Tka8v7PK8VWetzZWrektq9j5qq3tMvVaLBfxgkKEzHDNprr3TqU2I_FU_itfqgYdUAv1eG7DWp5NnIzq7RA-VuiSxlyX8-x4Yak5dfwXud/s320/small+edit016.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-14011927815050118482013-05-28T20:45:00.002+02:002013-05-30T12:06:55.764+02:00Prayers Answered and Pending<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">It was an answer to prayer to have
such a massive “Claire’s To Do” list from Laura Propst when I arrived in Korr.
I knew that I would have no trouble being social (I never do), but I
desperately wanted to be able to really serve and be useful as well. The Lord
created me with an insatiable desire to be doing and He has been good to provide
an outlet for this desire during my time with the kids at <st1:place><st1:placename>Tirrim</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Secondary School</st1:placetype></st1:place>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, right now I’m working to balance all the
registration fees from the beginning of the school term. These records are an
absolute disaster. For some reason students were let into school without paying
their full tuition, so our expected and actual fee collections are lopsided.
Then, some of the teachers started to pay school bills out of the registration
money pot without waiting for the records to be balanced, wreaking havoc with
my numbers. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying it’s a big job to get this all
sorted out, but I’m delighted at the prospect of presenting Laura with
perfectly sorted Kenyan shillings and spreadsheets by tomorrow! </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_f0czozv1K_sslKvV3EDPXkDfDJIFLXqvx23X85DNh0juw_KSW4AXrwLDNLdwMjShADjy9ePlN3T1vPsjxTHHCFMekGkX-Rw3UmLPDClrBjmzTcH6iwOD4SJaKlrdCUvNFedVThaA1TEn/s1600/small+edit001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_f0czozv1K_sslKvV3EDPXkDfDJIFLXqvx23X85DNh0juw_KSW4AXrwLDNLdwMjShADjy9ePlN3T1vPsjxTHHCFMekGkX-Rw3UmLPDClrBjmzTcH6iwOD4SJaKlrdCUvNFedVThaA1TEn/s400/small+edit001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My accountant work.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">However, there is a situation at
school with which I am not delighted. A year and a half ago I had a student
named Diba who gave me lots of grief in and out of class. Sass-mouthing, not
getting work done, being out rightly defiant… He has never had a father (I
believe that the father passed away) and he’s not from a Christian home, so
this kid carries bags of hurt and anger around on his shoulders wherever he
goes. In his attempt to cope with a burden only Jesus can carry, Diba tries to
protect himself by lashing out at those in his path and never forgetting a
perceived offense. I have been in his path and I have been perceived as
offensive, so I am on Diba’s “list.” It breaks my heart, but the kid won’t even
look at me. There have been three times in the past few days when our paths
have directly crossed, and Diba has put on a frown a mile wide and cut a path
around me just as large. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">This morning I prayed about my
relationship with this boy, asking how I might proactively pursue even a simple
greeting with him. I thought my chance had come this afternoon when I was
invited to sit with a certain group of boys during lunch. As my student Meshak
led the way around the corner, I saw Diba sitting in the shade with the gang I
was to join. He hesitated only for a moment, perhaps wondering if his bad luck
would continue and I would actually sit down, before abruptly standing and
taking his food, and our chance for civility, with him. Blast. I do wonder what
I should now pray for regarding Diba himself and our relationship… Do I tackle
the kid in the schoolyard and say, “Hi”? Should I slip him a note? Would it
send him over the edge if I sat in on one of his classes and conveniently chose
the seat right next to him?</span></div>
Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-9379845706052518702013-05-27T14:25:00.006+02:002013-05-27T14:27:37.343+02:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-71660374556057274992013-05-27T14:25:00.000+02:002013-05-27T14:25:03.144+02:00Conversations I've Been Having
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Just after church on Sunday I spoke
with my precious student, Peter Gudere. Well, he’s not actually one of my kids,
as he was only at the primary school in Class 8 (8<sup>th</sup> grade) the year
I left <st1:country-region><st1:place>Kenya</st1:place></st1:country-region>,
but somehow he was very much a part of my life. He and my Rendille brother, Somo,
are best friends, so the two boys would come over together for Sunday lunch
every week and I always found Peter’s face in the crowd at school or church
events. Last year Peter entered Form 1 at <st1:place><st1:placename>Tirrim</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Secondary School</st1:placetype></st1:place> and was
immediately elected as class prefect, which is essentially a class president.
The class prefect is the ambassador between teacher and class students, the code
enforcer, and generally a role model of behavior and attitude for the rest of
the class. It’s quite an honor, but a weighty responsibility. And, as you might
imagine, such a leadership position amongst one’s peers often incurs the
outpourings of teenage angst. This was, unfortunately, the case for Peter last
year; he was too good at his job. Heaven forbid he<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> actually</i> enforce the class rules and report offenders to the
teachers! There was an uprising amongst the Form 1s, and Peter was
unceremoniously voted out of his position by teens perpetually offended by
justice. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">For many teenage boys, the social
rejection of such a situation and the humbling fall from leadership would be a
disaster. But not for Peter. During our discussion on Sunday, he told me that
he is not saddened by his demotion because he believes that he was always doing
the right thing. He said something to the effect of, “Madame, you know, these
students (the Form 1 class), they just wanted to not be serious and I wanted to
be serious, so I told them ‘If you don’t want me as your leader, fine. Vote me
out. But if I am your leader, then I will continue to enforce class rules.’ So
they voted for another guy, and that is fine. I did the right thing.” What a
positive attitude! I then mentioned to him that it is a very hard task to go
against one’s peers to do what is right and what the Lord would have one do,
and Peter whole-heartedly agreed. I think the Lord has honored Peter’s
faithfulness because he is now been elected as the Scouts Prefect (like the
honor guard at school.)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Then today I had lunch with my
favorite female student at <st1:stockticker>TSS</st1:stockticker>, Naiseku.
Over our typical rice and beans we started to talk about marriage, also typical
of our lunch times. I wouldn’t say that the girls are obsessed with the idea of
marriage, but it certainly is a more prevalent reality in their life stage of
secondary school than it ever was for me. It is around the high school years
that Rendille girls typically decide between the marriage and schooling paths,
a decision which causes a benign disconnect between peer girls. They still care
for and spend time with each other, but they lead incredible different
existences. So, when Naiseku asked about the “other Madames” and I said that
Tamara and Emily were engaged, it led to a conversation about Naiseku not
wanting to get married until she is 32. How she chose that age is beyond me,
but she has determined that she is going to be a mobile, self-ruling,
professional woman throughout her young adulthood. “Madame,” she said,
“no, no, I don’t want a husband. I want to be free and happy!” (Haha!) This
girl has potential and if she wants to spend her 20s pursuing her career and
traveling and having adventures, good for her! It’s exactly what I did, and I
wouldn’t change it for the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-15932542182058045242013-05-27T13:37:00.001+02:002013-05-27T13:37:56.982+02:00How Much For The Swimsuit?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5H-qX1tiw2WnmLxNhM5u6l0Da4MH8UapJHer2hymSBnR7h6YX-9w5fUFvvNjrw06y0HF2Agynh9ezVeDvY4Kaq21StyVFcwbxxDNdp7yY7OAVYhatMG_21Fifo5XdQtNrCK1tCRU09GGm/s1600/small+edit001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5H-qX1tiw2WnmLxNhM5u6l0Da4MH8UapJHer2hymSBnR7h6YX-9w5fUFvvNjrw06y0HF2Agynh9ezVeDvY4Kaq21StyVFcwbxxDNdp7yY7OAVYhatMG_21Fifo5XdQtNrCK1tCRU09GGm/s320/small+edit001.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> One of my jobs this week has been to sort through bags of clothing that were donated to the Rendille by some Christian Kenyans down-country (in the Nairobi area.) The students' Christian Union here in Korr is planning to sell the clothing at a yard sale in order to raise money for their group, so I've had the task of organizing the various articles in preparation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"> I think the woman's swimsuit, seen above, is going to be the hottest item on the table. It's just so practical for a traditional people group in the desert, don't you think? The Rendille would only love it more if it had beads sewn along the edges.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;"></span>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-66042882327702218812013-05-25T18:06:00.000+02:002013-05-25T18:07:41.700+02:00It All Changes and It All Stays The Same<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">As we descended into the <st1:place><st1:placename>Kaisut</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Desert</st1:placetype></st1:place> in our 12-seater bush plane,
I could feel it; the vibrating life of my Kenyan home. Intense heat radiated
off the white sand and black volcanic rock while the equatorial sun itself
pulsed through the carbon fiber fuselage. Ruthie and I had our noses squished
up against the windows trying to rush ahead of the plane to the “life” that we
already recognized as home. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkJwTY5mGIq59vR7qGI02Z8IQHEW2Y9T1YFT4YMj0hI7-pxvX9KdoTyS5MPDgGS4BJIpzHYN4KNhw6gnvNG0eVntEqIfY1snm8HRZiaSNrGQFvSGG4m25ha7V-k_PT2Vv8NwWUaaide3V/s1600/small+edit001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkJwTY5mGIq59vR7qGI02Z8IQHEW2Y9T1YFT4YMj0hI7-pxvX9KdoTyS5MPDgGS4BJIpzHYN4KNhw6gnvNG0eVntEqIfY1snm8HRZiaSNrGQFvSGG4m25ha7V-k_PT2Vv8NwWUaaide3V/s320/small+edit001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New;"> Another staple that warms my heart are the early morning moonscapes in Korr. They are stunners.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Stepping outside, we were then hit
with the wonderful wave of scents that we so fondly remember: acrid smoke,
goats and camels, the Rendille’s leathery skin heavily marinated in red ochre,
tea, and milk… And then there are the sounds I love. Rustling camel bells, warriors
chanting somewhere off in the distance (the Rendille are currently celebrating
“Il Muket”, a ceremony in which the male age groups are graduated on to the
next social level), and a heavy desert wind punctuated by high pitched shouts
of Rendille mommas make me feel like I haven’t been gone a day. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">However, I have been gone. More
than a day. Little things remind me of this. The curtains on the Propst’s
windows have now been tattered and torn by sunlight and wind. There has been a
new bird screen installed around the entire church to keep the pesky pigeons
(and their excrement) off the pews. <st1:place><st1:placename>Tirrim</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Secondary School</st1:placetype></st1:place> is now the proud
owner of two all-wheel-drive school buses, prominently parked in the yard. Trees
I remember as saplings are now a couple feet taller.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">More noticeable aspects of change
confront me as well, like the fact that my students all suddenly look like
adults! The boys tower above me and the girls have trimmed their hair into
incredible short pixie cuts. Their smiles are the same, as are their voices,
but they’ve grown up in both stature and attitude. Some students are totally missing,
having moved on to different schools or graduated. Furthermore, there are now
four new short-termer missionary ladies living in “my” house. I do love what
they’ve done with the place, though. I’m especially happy that they have kept
my maps pinned to the wall with the star stickers indicating the homes of all
short-termers, past and present. “Waakh Keene from <st1:city><st1:place>San
Francisco</st1:place></st1:city>” still sticks! Nick and Lynne Swanepoel,
with whom I lived for 6 months in 2011 and was generally close to throughout my
service, are no longer living in Korr full time, preferring rather to spend
some months in the southern town of Nanyuki, helping transfer leadership over
to the church in Korr. I am also thrown-off by the fact that I have no marking
or lesson plans to do in the afternoons! What?!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">As I sit here in my kanga (a
ladies’ skirt-wrap gifted to me by my beloved student Catherine) and drink my
“iced” coffee (lukewarm, in all honesty), I fight against my nature to admit
that change can be good. Trouble comes in life, whether it’s our spiritual life
or our daily comings and goings, when we stagnate. Stagnation, I’ve learned, drains
you of a crucial quality that God intends for human existence: growth. So, in
the deepest part of my soul, I am happy that the Rendille, my students, and the
Korr missionaries have been developing and changing in their various ways. But,
I must admit that these changes will take time for me to process and set aside
the twinge of disappointment for not being here to see the growth firsthand.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjondaUJpvMNls2bNFF8nC9DELx6NdJY8JwdiQDSdScVi_fmERxGR-UDRv84iuWF9EUYhdqlRlCZATXB5juH8msGP_sDxJi6SlMvTJNWlmynSCteBKGhMb97NlnvvZZlGMlhPANGQcb3uiJ/s1600/small+edit003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjondaUJpvMNls2bNFF8nC9DELx6NdJY8JwdiQDSdScVi_fmERxGR-UDRv84iuWF9EUYhdqlRlCZATXB5juH8msGP_sDxJi6SlMvTJNWlmynSCteBKGhMb97NlnvvZZlGMlhPANGQcb3uiJ/s320/small+edit003.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier New;">One major thing that has not changed – my relationship with my Rendille momma, Nareyo. We were so happy to see each other for the first time in a year and a half that she literally picked me up off the ground while we were hugging! Here we are with the blanket I gifted her. It’s a fleece blanket, but she swore it wasn’t too hot to wear in the middle of the day… Sweet lady.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-23989789856405096972011-12-06T06:32:00.004+02:002011-12-06T06:37:31.490+02:00Exam Revision With Madame Claire<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgph6hxPBb1PJb_1tzh0AfnCkxfkwMPj1ILJPNJ0Dkls7KXWCpDrIFJ53HVDcVs0kJGIghS5R5rV7vNZyVqqpPT_fYGLHd5KG5hjsSdBtYwPt9L3SVec2ogDsuUV7EE7tD8xDZGGFuf4HBc/s1600/small+edit032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682868725543079266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgph6hxPBb1PJb_1tzh0AfnCkxfkwMPj1ILJPNJ0Dkls7KXWCpDrIFJ53HVDcVs0kJGIghS5R5rV7vNZyVqqpPT_fYGLHd5KG5hjsSdBtYwPt9L3SVec2ogDsuUV7EE7tD8xDZGGFuf4HBc/s400/small+edit032.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I'm a pretty hands-on teacher, so when exam time comes around, I'm all about the revision cards I've been developing for the past two years. I think there's about 120 of them in total, covering all the grammar topics I teach in Form One and Two. Fill in the blanks with the correct form of the verb, find the errors in the following paragraph, has this vocabulary word been used correctly in the sentence below... Pink, green, orange... Pick your poison!</div></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-58507465628162161752011-12-06T05:09:00.001+02:002011-12-06T05:59:17.502+02:00Exam RevisionClaire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-29838980840819052992011-10-30T19:46:00.003+02:002011-10-30T20:03:36.973+02:00Sunday Lunch Crew<div align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi03PhctDv2xNIeo_Y5hDNasCeSU-MgAz4Mwkbeg8OJKYsbiHrYFy5HTyLt2yHoIdqjEjYTGbQLJ6yT81TDnpYcIiVWcsKzuSsNc0O-pK-CcBaEb9KcWkdEGtc5mXZC5-2JjJ8dm8NRvwrL/s1600/small+edit001.jpg"><font face="courier new"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669345201777567330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi03PhctDv2xNIeo_Y5hDNasCeSU-MgAz4Mwkbeg8OJKYsbiHrYFy5HTyLt2yHoIdqjEjYTGbQLJ6yT81TDnpYcIiVWcsKzuSsNc0O-pK-CcBaEb9KcWkdEGtc5mXZC5-2JjJ8dm8NRvwrL/s400/small+edit001.jpg" /></font></a><br /><div><font face="courier new">Every Sunday afternoon we have a group of 3-4 of our favourite Tirrim Primary School guys and a couple of tag-alongs over for lunch at our place. We're not awesome cooks, and the menu rarely varies, but we add a ton of oil for the boys and they're totally happy (real warriors drink animal fat mixed with blood - the Rendille really like their oil...) There's no schedule for Sunday afternoons; sometimes we watch movies, play card games, read, or get all crafty and color our initials, which we did a couple weeks ago. Today someone even read the dictionary for a while. We ladies love hanging out with these kids and getting to know them outside of the classroom - it's a special thing to begin to learn what makes them tick. And what better way to do that than over greasy spaghetti and felt pens...</font></div></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-5403015705359851662011-10-25T14:38:00.003+02:002011-10-25T14:51:21.457+02:00Can I park my boat in your desert?<div align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQICIF4nWsUO8RwWcPVYfMDWW0pMLeOL-e9aivEW6BAdbNT7tD3deY1ruVRWnqnuUJWSljsDpUhWX-i8gxpgnOh0KIQrgTWryl4ODocqm4jbW62v08MuMJ9xjY6OMZnMBk7uoySZ-Dpyi/s1600/small+edit007.jpg"><font face="courier new"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667410633227075570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQICIF4nWsUO8RwWcPVYfMDWW0pMLeOL-e9aivEW6BAdbNT7tD3deY1ruVRWnqnuUJWSljsDpUhWX-i8gxpgnOh0KIQrgTWryl4ODocqm4jbW62v08MuMJ9xjY6OMZnMBk7uoySZ-Dpyi/s400/small+edit007.jpg" /></font></a><br /><div><font face="courier new">Don't even know the guy (a white guy living down country), but he asked Jim Propst if he could store his huge yacht on their compound for a while. This guy says he uses the boat up at Lake Turkana, but why he didn't just leave it at the lake is a mystery... Why store it 7 hours away in the desert in someone's yard?</font></div><div><font face="courier new"> </font></div><div><font face="courier new">The Rendille are really confused about this too. They keep asking whose truck it is.</font></div><div><font face="courier new"> </font></div><div><font face="courier new"> </font></div></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-27002687913465119842011-10-23T14:00:00.004+02:002011-10-23T14:40:23.545+02:00Tirrim Cultural Day 2011<div align="center"><br /><font face="courier new">I remember what Alicia Ressmann used to say about Cultural<br />Day at the Tirrim Schools: “I’m like such a proud momma! I am sorry if the other guests can’t see, but I will stand up in front and take pictures of MY kids! Oh, hi kids. Smile at my camera in your face!” In honor of Alicia I have taken on the new role of super excited “Mom” at the annual cultural song and dance preformance held with all schools in the Tirrim Project. And those secondary students did me proud this year! They performed a traditional Turkana dance and a Samburu/Rendille one also. I was even impressed with the primary school kids who did a dance performed with a ram’s horn trumpet! 551 photos later, and here are some of my favorites.</font></div><div align="center"><font face="courier new"> </font></div><font face="courier new"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666665703991246242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSm0OaIcOPG-K6yfrKbF8whD072DMQJ9l8hM9mJD8LqGEk_bjQysTZp1Ywx8xVXNdxVoSsOX3QQ7iURY5ZCQdZvGyhOC2YDWwLAzB_rS0d-f0w-t6z_Mta0UShlTxHTemdbfw8raXGOSra/s400/small+edit474.jpg" /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 267px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666665702354198098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiySUHVFP8tVr2Ea3no7p9pzPt3O4DwWajJroXelTlNYJzgdEd2CIrwbWmb8BXNOSvXpoFobhkHVTBbqE83mGTXeWZs23Uu05sgjJfOkJwpZQfGEOqk-RrYjvubs_r_LlpI8UHBay25jCCy/s400/small+edit306.jpg" /></font><div align="center"><font face="courier new"> </font></div><font face="courier new"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 267px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666662872373237106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWT7B9LfdJkicq5U6MSwo5jmTFhRGLyna_SaW9eAyKTJ8nS_vuRRbC0e32ww8aMIOS2TXp1D_7lZ0DHHu17oyXUSLINUxiwITpz7XOcuco0bYVWndC2uVKwutcKIOadpkQR75ooylUdtI-/s400/small+edit367.jpg" /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666662867965434418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVFGWwTvfQyRnZoKL41Y4wOAxrDc6iW7BwBdQLH6Q2zDDfdyk0yKwsfGtMiKwJESnBuZyJ7KeYCrHAuTAsOTvUZ8Ox5-FlvQh-HlFRnJmA4H3W8omZp3LOJsPvQjn3NucW_bF5K0u2xRsl/s400/small+edit108.jpg" /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666659338652820498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZgP3H9IvSb7wX7Reun70nF8h-_bqnQY53kGHZzPdT4pby8ApTssaWmfTISYApIqDTeuEbtMek3zfWYIWlx1W6zejhgZw5HoISBxf4KN0GqPutnMfZncIPOUbUZXHBzBew6pn1ShXYmkN/s400/small+edit172.jpg" /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666659334049250306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCy7nDcOSbvaEMBUVxVYzoKKSkWS-dTTP8fKKCTy54SeGAR_E8vu5bgwfOkdCgB_FAlT17FuFUxBLCaKtdghBopaYkP2Q2cgE7NBmzeTC1wewoQmO1ktoicJJalPLUQYbt2dMhMmAXkXVO/s400/small+edit163.jpg" /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666657566961745186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhytx1dRL_eidix9d7zprEX6a9ISv648R3eFDktDAoZnhMAlsKd6-zPEeu8awiMRkJKIIfraWbX4BqEGO24dnccD7equUNBxNzXqlXvFHyVetk6fzVTg2sCKAcBqbYo1uatDnYyVYUK5Wzc/s400/small+edit198.jpg" /><br /><br /></font><div></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-81699760636434953932011-10-18T13:48:00.003+02:002011-10-18T13:57:22.513+02:00Chex-Mix Missions<div align="center"><br /><font face="courier new">So, I’m currently reading a very interesting book, the Wild Goose Chase by Mark Batterson, about following the Holy Spirit’s guidance in your life. I’m on page 50 of 176, and as of now I would recommend it, but I’ve just come to a small piece of the author’s argument that I can<br />only be incredulous of after two years on the mission field.<br /><br />In the passage I’ve just gone through, the author is talking about how the Lord sometimes calls us to a different physical location in order to change our perspective on his work and our calling, getting us out of dangerous comfort zones. He gives a clever little word formula akin to what I use in my English class (Helping Verb “Had” + Participle = Past Perfect Tense) saying, “a change of place + a change of<br />pace = a change of perspective.”<br /><br />I agree with this.<br /><br />But then he moves on to say this,<br /><br /> “If you’re in a spiritual slump, let me give you a prescription: go on a mission trip. There is no better or sure way of coming out of the cage of routine. It’s a cure-all.”<br /><br />I don’t agree with this.<br /><br />Missions is NOT ALL ABOUT YOU!<br /><br />Of course, the Lord uses missions to drastically change our hearts and bring about his good will in our lives. I mean, honestly, God has<br />used my time in Rendille Land to vastly form “the Korr” of who I am in Him and I’m honored every day by the fact I was chosen to help in this ministry. There was always a significant plan for me, personally, in coming to Korr – this is what I was meant to do for this time. I was “allure[d]” and led “into the desert” for a chance at a more full understanding of redemption. Did God want this mission at this time for me? Absolutely. But that’s not the starting point in its entirety,<br />and that is definitely not where it all ends.<br /><br />So, if we’re going to throw around equations for life and Jesus, then I think I’ve got one: God + Me + THE PEOPLE I’M MEANT TO BE SERVING<br />= Missions. Duh.<br /><br />The sad thing is that I believe that there is a certain proportion of people out there, people who really do love Jesus, who just forget about the third factor. On accident? As a result of the American<br /> Church? As a result of the incredibly “me first” mentality of Western society? I don’t know why, but it happens.<br /><br />NGO’s have, unfortunately, had a monopoly on the business of throwing money at people without considering their real needs or the most<br />effective, efficient, and sustainable way of helping them. However, in the past couple of years in Kenya I’ve seen several short term missions in Africa (and large Christian charity organizations as well) where the people just show up, take a lot of pictures, hand out candy to children (or Tylenol), learn how to say “God bless you” in the local language, and then leave. And so, the short term missionaries go home with all these cool pictures and stories about the poor naked kids they saw and that one awesome lady who shared her testimony.<br /><br />But what about those poor naked kids and that one awesome lady? What are they really left with? Hopefully they are truly left with an impression of the love of God, of course. I really do pray that if my students hear the name of Jesus just that one vital time and see Christianity as a verb (no English teacher joke intended), that the divine place inside them will suddenly make sense.<br /><br />What if they don’t get this, though? Have any of their other needs really been served by you?<br /><br />I think too many believers blithely sign up for missions trips hinking, “I want to be on the ‘Mountain Top’ with God, so that means I need to buy a $2500 plane ticket to a developing country. Yep, that’ll be a<br />good experience. New scenery, new people, new experiences, out of my comfort zone, learn way more about my faith…” Seeking the real life needs of the people; discipling high school students, feeding the starving, paying church worker’s salaries, or planning a focused ministry with a specific group of people seem to often be the parts of the equation that get filled in only after the “Me” part.<br /><br />Missions begins, or should begin, with a calling; a prompting from the Holy Spirit to move into something. Believe me, I know the difference between just going on a missions trip and being called to missions.<br />I did trips to Mexico with my high school every year for four years and most of that had to do with my friends going/it was just what we did. Habit. I can’t say with conviction that I was “called” to Mexico. In fact, I don’t even remember really asking for God’s opinion on my choice to go. Now there’s a missionary-in-the-making for you! Missions shouldn’t begin with the thought, “My faith has stagnated. I’m moving to the Philippines.” It’s a temptation, to be sure, to think that God would work in bigger ways in your life if you could just move to a new or exotic place. Sometimes that is what it actually takes (“Go to a land I will show you…”), it’s true. But it would be a huge mistake to start planning your own party, then send God an invitation and tell him that you’d like to give the poor and oppressed the left over Chex-Mix.<br /><br />So, I think it works like this: the Lord gives Believers specific skills that they might serve the Church. After receiving a calling, they should use those gifted skills to serve people who need what they’ve been entrusted with.<br /><br />It is absolutely shameful to believe that mission work is the solution to a personal problem, unless, of course, that problem is that God has called you to missions and you are dragging your feet and trying to bury your dead.<br /><br />I have a ton of thoughts on short term mission trips, and honestly, some of them are negative, but that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about the basic components of missions. It’s not glamorous; I wear jean skirts. It’s doesn’t make you feel good all the time; I often cry and want to send my students to boot camp. It doesn’t make you feel more holy; I’ve often seen how nasty of a person I really am. If this all really was about only God and me, I would probably believe by this point that God was just playing some sick joke.<br /><br />Then praise the Lord it’s not all about me! It’s about Him teaching Jonathan and Elias about forgiveness. It’s about Catherine knowing<br />she’s loved despite her huge mistakes in life. It’s about seeing Nick and Lynne laugh at my dumb jokes after their stressful day. It’s about dates with TSS girls and seeing the joy they derive from nail polish. It’s about conversations with Stephen about godly leadership. It’s about Moga realizing he had to do right by God and admit his cheating issue…<br /><br />It’s about so many things to do with the people I’m serving that I honestly believe this is actually God’s party for the Rendille and TSS<br />students, and I just got super lucky in snagging an invitation. I also get a handful of Chex-Mix.<br /></font></div><font face="courier new"></font>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-90650683609949299872011-09-24T09:30:00.002+02:002011-09-24T09:44:18.194+02:00Ingo Ingurinit<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi01kBYsloSWbQZwOM71_ioWevUDUCIRBLyc4SvuVMyJXdZ8ksqtAYjN5tta9uL02jzXtdBt4dF3gz5Jpy8OKohePSuimpsFukUkM6t1_2m1oKwHTB69xhbstrnUyqF9mOT104L919BnD7/s1600/small+edit141.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655826174832270338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi01kBYsloSWbQZwOM71_ioWevUDUCIRBLyc4SvuVMyJXdZ8ksqtAYjN5tta9uL02jzXtdBt4dF3gz5Jpy8OKohePSuimpsFukUkM6t1_2m1oKwHTB69xhbstrnUyqF9mOT104L919BnD7/s400/small+edit141.jpg" /></a>This is my new "Ingo" (Auntie), Ingo Ingurinit. Last year while living at the Kuku House, Ingo Mary helped us out with laundry, dishes, and just generally cleaning up after us four girls. However, this year she's working down at Nick and Lynne's house so we hired one of my favourite mommas from church. Even though she's pretty traditional and has little experience working in a white ladies' house, she's such a joy to have around, especially on those days you can't face another round of dishes...<br /><div></div></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-77673193791806653302011-09-09T13:51:00.006+02:002011-09-09T19:35:17.534+02:00Megan and Emily Meet Korr<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk8bhrDnVYj9qIOYm1McKvvOtDQxDZs8j0LRDEG0KoWfg5fLbhuJ4WLbGr_Fm5wyqVIebUbNTeuzLoZ_umtqBM26MsEnn8_r8EaT62BDAXZ8Cm2WELw9rvE5QnglEFfafHH-lZdRyizt7F/s1600/small+edit+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650327736758698562" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk8bhrDnVYj9qIOYm1McKvvOtDQxDZs8j0LRDEG0KoWfg5fLbhuJ4WLbGr_Fm5wyqVIebUbNTeuzLoZ_umtqBM26MsEnn8_r8EaT62BDAXZ8Cm2WELw9rvE5QnglEFfafHH-lZdRyizt7F/s400/small+edit+005.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">Canadians, eh! Here to help do teacher evaluations and curriculum assessment at the nomadic nursery schools. Megan (on the left) and Emily (on the right) are the "Canadian Goslings" I mentioned about a month ago, however these ladies are actually 24 and 23 respectively so we can't call them the Goslings anymore.<br /><br /><br /></span><div style="font-family: courier new;"> </div><div style="font-family: courier new;">Megan has a great laugh and energy that makes me feel like an old person (no offense Grandmas and Grandpas) but is, of course, a favourite with the kids. Emily is the kind of person who makes you feel like you're super funny and interesting because she's so sweet. So, between Tamara and I and these ladies, we've got a pretty full house which I like.<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="font-family: courier new;"> </div><div style="font-family: courier new;">There's also a new guy named Deven who's working at TSS with me as the Biology 1 and CRE 1 and 2 teacher. His nickname was chosen after I met him so I know for sure that "Geek Squad" describes him well as he showed up in Korr with enough gadgets to build a bridge out of toothpicks and a certain knack for all problems concerning the internet. He's kind and a very motivated science teacher so I think he'll do quite well in TSS.<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="font-family: courier new;"> </div><div style="font-family: courier new;">Well, looks like I've got a great new team! I must admit that I miss the Korr Girls (Jamie, Alicia and Ruthie) something awful, but I really am excited to work with these people and learn what I can from them.</div></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-27338086515270120442011-09-09T12:48:00.003+02:002011-09-09T13:04:55.258+02:00The New Oven<div align="center"><font face="courier new">We're not very high tech these days now that we've moved back into "Kuku House" (the unofficial official Short Termer house.) As the pioneers in this set up, we four girls are lacking in a few things, which actually doesn't make our lives difficult, but just a little different.</font></div><div align="center"><font face="courier new"></font> </div><div align="center"><font face="courier new">Case in point, this is our oven.</font></div><div align="center"><font face="courier new"></font> </div><div align="center"><font face="courier new"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 267px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650310992282703522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnxGrvFgCCUGSvr5AKm1LAOKxUgi8ujSHskqG9bTNCFljJ8lCHSMift-DHkpvjBKtX5OoA6HyQFy-fqEhvrhHYxOgQOHlALwbRP1lazwmEOs6xQ5mgbtJKg56335wmsdTE_-HQRrbFOcj/s400/small+edit007.jpg" /> </font></div><div align="center"><font face="courier new">Laura Propst gave us this old safari camp stove that sits just over a burner on our stove top. It's made completely of sheet metal, so this little bugger gets HOT! There's a thermometer that sits inside, but I'm not so sure it works. Really, I just turn on the burner, set the stove on top and then wait for stuff to bake. </font></div><div align="center"><font face="courier new"></font> </div><div align="center"><font face="courier new">Here's Megan and Emily's biscuits - the very first thing to be baked in the oven! Yum!</font></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-22012175967259738842011-09-06T20:49:00.000+02:002011-09-06T20:57:56.483+02:00Yeesoo a 'doossamaache<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">Jesus heals.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">In the third term of school in 2010 I ran into a whole bunch of nasty - bad attitudes from the kids, primarily. In fact, my experiences in the last bit of 2010 were enough to make me seriously reconsider my decision to return to Tirrim Secondary in 2011. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">I'm glad I took a chance.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">I'm starting to see that my return may, in fact, have the distinct purpose of being a time of healing because in the past 8 months God has really been fixing some serious wounds from last year. This past June I had a long talk with a boy called Jonathan who was one of my problem kids last year. He told me he realized that holding onto anger with circumstances and with me was eating a hole in his heart. He said he had decided to release his anger at me, and while he never really said he was sorry for the way he acted, I was so happy to see a proactive desire to set things right.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Then, just the other night my former student, Elias, showed up at my door.<br /><br />It wasn't just me who had had issues with him last year, in fact I really was just on the fringe, but disciplining him fell to me and that's where the drama started. Long story short, he was expelled for failing to comply with his discipline and left behind him a sour taste in my mouth. Then suddenly he's on my doorstep telling me that he's realized he was very wrong for having such a terrible attitude, for saying such rude things, and for just generally carrying on the way he did. He said he had recently been to a sport camp where they had been talking about peacemaking (some boys had tried to start a fight on the soccer field), and he was suddenly convicted of how he had acted toward me and that he needed to do make peace. He was terrified out of his mind to come talk to me because, in Rendille culture, people generally don't let go of wrongs against them, and so coming to me was literally risking a beating (children are beaten for disrespecting elders.) It was quite brave what he did, really. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">He adamantly offered me his apologies and asked for my forgiveness in return. It was very readily given. Not only am I happy to discard of bitterness, but it's a joy to see this once troubled boy growing up, recognizing his faults, taking responsibility for his actions and allowing God to soften his heart. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">To be able to have conversations like this with my students and tell them that I really do love them despite their mistakes and that I believe God is changing their lives...<br /><br />I'll take teenage angst any day.</span><br /></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-79498087739573883082011-09-01T17:28:00.002+02:002011-09-01T17:46:05.299+02:00My Friend, Tana<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRcgkEah4BxUreMTdu9vkiMd70piJ1zC3_px4f1q1Veh9wmS4z3LPNo_-F0au9HDMq39f4HIMF_GoE0GV2BF3eRZGcHrYP8-D41ig6nVLuCCeUBt_xCeaSy4P_FjJ6VitlezuzASHESaD/s1600/edit+HPIM3786.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRcgkEah4BxUreMTdu9vkiMd70piJ1zC3_px4f1q1Veh9wmS4z3LPNo_-F0au9HDMq39f4HIMF_GoE0GV2BF3eRZGcHrYP8-D41ig6nVLuCCeUBt_xCeaSy4P_FjJ6VitlezuzASHESaD/s400/edit+HPIM3786.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647413893094269106" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: courier new;">The pretty girl in the middle is my dear friend Tana. I met her last April just as she was arriving in Kenya while we were both trying to survive the awkward and repetitive dinner table conversations of a missionary guest house. I only got to hang out with her a couple of days in Nairobi before I went back up to Korr, but then, as Tammy and I came down to the city again for our holiday, Tana invited us to stay with her! What a BLESSING this girl is. Not only am I saved from those terrible dinner table conversations, but I also get to hang out in a cute little home with an awesome lady. Fancy lunches on the porch (like the one seen in the picture above), shopping, coffee dates, day trips and such were all ways we enjoyed Tana's company. </span>
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<br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">As much as I dislike Nairobi, I have really enjoyed this trip almost entirely due to Tana's hospitality. </span>
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<br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">"Good on ya Tana!" (An ism from Tana herself.)</span>
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<br />Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-31925290175476308862011-08-31T14:43:00.014+02:002011-08-31T16:46:15.698+02:00To Hell in a Land Rover
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">Ok, well I really didn't go to Hell, but I did go to Hell's Gate National Park near Lake Naivasha down country, and it was just as exciting as the name implies! I was invited to go camping with my girlfriend Michelle and some friends from up</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> in Northern Kenya, the Middletons. I've never actually been camping in Kenya, as the western</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> version of camping goes (with a tent, a gas cooker, a sleeping bag and a mat that doesn't actually do much against the rocks underneath), so this was a bit of an adventure!</span>
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<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">We loaded up two Land Rovers with provisions and drove two hours out of Nairobi towards this park known for its maj</span><span style="font-family:courier new;">or geothermal activity (steam vents, energy plants and hot springs.) Once in the park, we set up camp on a bluff above a long, narrow valley that hosts herds of zebras, buffalo, warthogs (pumbas!) and even giraffe couples. I mean, literally we were feet away from the edge of a cliff!</span></div> <div style="font-family: courier new; text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZqE0_Cc1O7YHaDGxQhX6NbMH4Fp-5wxEoudOE-pJk08U_1eF0pSJQwfLaaP1_Y_IMj9i1_kNzumib5lL-s13dmQEufy4p5wHBQuxZh9uc3ydfn-JWudOSAfmn4VCJsZgoKErVnhPKtyL/s1600/edit+063.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZqE0_Cc1O7YHaDGxQhX6NbMH4Fp-5wxEoudOE-pJk08U_1eF0pSJQwfLaaP1_Y_IMj9i1_kNzumib5lL-s13dmQEufy4p5wHBQuxZh9uc3ydfn-JWudOSAfmn4VCJsZgoKErVnhPKtyL/s400/edit+063.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647016413700740626" border="0" /></a>(View from our tent)
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<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">The activities of the following two days included rock climbing lessons with the Middletons which were terrifying and addicting all at the same time. I have clinical acrophobia (I diagnosed myself) which should immediately disqualify rock climbing from any activity I would try, however, everyone else was doing it, so... The guys roped three courses, easy, medium and hard, and in the end I successfully completed the easy and medium ones with, I admit, much groaning and screaming, "Now what?!" It feels good to say, "Yah, I've </span><span style="font-family:courier new;">rock climbed in Kenya." but I've suffered from some pretty serious aching shoulder joints since then.</span> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: courier new;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8JJvY6XATR7zuOy4OUKyRaGSxyaHPJX7qvaMT2YahVLPqOIPGG-VWDirIrG_oVtVulbaNxRjIh69SUVS62ntFqJbbPBnLyF13g6Yfie72hyphenhyphenFaRpGx7PcYgeaxX18lZhKrZot81gaYDJo/s1600/edit+_MG_9261.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8JJvY6XATR7zuOy4OUKyRaGSxyaHPJX7qvaMT2YahVLPqOIPGG-VWDirIrG_oVtVulbaNxRjIh69SUVS62ntFqJbbPBnLyF13g6Yfie72hyphenhyphenFaRpGx7PcYgeaxX18lZhKrZot81gaYDJo/s400/edit+_MG_9261.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647005256888358290" border="0" /></a></div> <div style="font-family: courier new; text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_lGZGgaamX2CW0P9qw4GooAyYhl3pQY2iANKwnwk8LyU4ZZdGe8e_tKdF9IFav7jbLhTqyXjIWr5zRHh0i4YdfBhZP-BrDQDb2v7YaKKwPqpJFXM-OedK6oAxGifvLE8fxXFAtLjk2Lm/s1600/edit+IMG_0421.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_lGZGgaamX2CW0P9qw4GooAyYhl3pQY2iANKwnwk8LyU4ZZdGe8e_tKdF9IFav7jbLhTqyXjIWr5zRHh0i4YdfBhZP-BrDQDb2v7YaKKwPqpJFXM-OedK6oAxGifvLE8fxXFAtLjk2Lm/s400/edit+IMG_0421.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647005261219217682" border="0" /></a>
<br />(Looking like a pro - ish.)
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<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">We also hiked the volcano (extinct now, but still steaming up a storm!) and the gorge, a narrow trail carved out of soft sandstone by the random comings and goings of floods. The gorge was beautiful - stunning, really, with its rippling stone walls and hot spring waterfalls. And it provides quite a rush realizing th</span><span style="font-family:courier new;">at a flash flood could come and wipe you out at any time since there'</span><span style="font-family:courier new;">s no way out of the gorge, except the "designated trail heads." Or maybe up - if I could tap into my new found climbing skills.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: courier new;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRClGaY1Wh7S1KQBtlV3ViSSY1KkIIqPt9MhrLP1G5KjSfnHUukza5Djt-zGpeFZzIU4uI8ynjklG2rI8JDjV10MtRjF2t7WzOV7DLlORkxPuzVvgFZHniBZ4u_DmZp9Ey-Dgp1spSTc-U/s1600/edit+066.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRClGaY1Wh7S1KQBtlV3ViSSY1KkIIqPt9MhrLP1G5KjSfnHUukza5Djt-zGpeFZzIU4uI8ynjklG2rI8JDjV10MtRjF2t7WzOV7DLlORkxPuzVvgFZHniBZ4u_DmZp9Ey-Dgp1spSTc-U/s400/edit+066.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647018631731224370" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: courier new;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBSqFis7xotEXQBMQXLSDjMB2L2FeMaGG6SBbV8ie8C52UiyWSkJgrnSnQ67LjuWRaxBlsPCW3-Nj-WAD8NqPev7K-kM4f7MFD3A5dzRFiduJZyPLm0FEXp9Cowekco5XTP_8iNlJGBO_6/s1600/edit+071.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBSqFis7xotEXQBMQXLSDjMB2L2FeMaGG6SBbV8ie8C52UiyWSkJgrnSnQ67LjuWRaxBlsPCW3-Nj-WAD8NqPev7K-kM4f7MFD3A5dzRFiduJZyPLm0FEXp9Cowekco5XTP_8iNlJGBO_6/s400/edit+071.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647022909770684034" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">(Love some sandstone)</span>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: courier new;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVGG7QyYVw03tuwbMEIBWq8mQkiIUpKQfbrCaaJbBbXUjoTxj8vvtkfskck7DaSgKbpSzITVWA6rzzmIoh5-WNizt9Jdo_NeJunW3_0eB1UnP7HpQp7RUf_-GWs60gf1Gsa4EBfOiBKIH/s1600/edit+074.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVGG7QyYVw03tuwbMEIBWq8mQkiIUpKQfbrCaaJbBbXUjoTxj8vvtkfskck7DaSgKbpSzITVWA6rzzmIoh5-WNizt9Jdo_NeJunW3_0eB1UnP7HpQp7RUf_-GWs60gf1Gsa4EBfOiBKIH/s400/edit+074.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647015076128324082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">(Michelle and I)</span>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: courier new;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5G7-8o5DJ5dOztKV0AhVZTvDr0z5u4ThN3FBy39TW_5Y0Sjvss0-446IOpgLoqyiXix05PPgPH6dFP9uY4dPDUM6upNiDzF3H4B7Wm-sdOaXT99BRhGiOdHS-srGe1RL55V9rV6VL3-Q/s1600/edit+072.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5G7-8o5DJ5dOztKV0AhVZTvDr0z5u4ThN3FBy39TW_5Y0Sjvss0-446IOpgLoqyiXix05PPgPH6dFP9uY4dPDUM6upNiDzF3H4B7Wm-sdOaXT99BRhGiOdHS-srGe1RL55V9rV6VL3-Q/s400/edit+072.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647021358003118930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;">(Graffiti in the gorge - Evan must be desperate...)</span>
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<br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">The volcano, Hobley's Volcano, is, I believe, what must have inspired Jules Verne's </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: courier new;">Journey to the Center of the Earth.</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> It's just other-worldly enough, with its steaming vents and crumbling terrain, to</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> lend itself to science fiction, but also real enough to invite speculations of, "What if I climbed down into this cave? I wonder if it would be like that Planet Earth episode..." We didn't actually </span><span style="font-family:courier new;">climb down into the cave, on account of the fact that that would have been supremely dangerous, but we did slip and slide around the cliffs and threw feather light pumice stones to each other. </span> <span style="font-family:courier new;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yGKm2UNMpj9mYA_pkilgA66i0St7dT9EOZdq09n_tNexYLew7YDNjocq6PH_A2FzNChffIQI__6ooHFVjdik1X61K6EeL9Wk-VDeh0As17beZ24Nqds33puyvFqq_6mACtr1H7u3oP4l/s1600/IMG_0524.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yGKm2UNMpj9mYA_pkilgA66i0St7dT9EOZdq09n_tNexYLew7YDNjocq6PH_A2FzNChffIQI__6ooHFVjdik1X61K6EeL9Wk-VDeh0As17beZ24Nqds33puyvFqq_6mACtr1H7u3oP4l/s400/IMG_0524.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647027791333793138" border="0" /></a>(Caleb Middleton ponders the volcano.)</span>
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<br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Other notable events on our vacation included Caleb chasing a giraffe and Michelle and I running into a jackal on the way</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> to the toilet one night. And so, finally getting out of Nairobi and traveling to the gate of Hell has been, ironically, quite good for my city weary soul.</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PR2I1ijZerCxf_NeRJNtR5S1NpJI41978Us9lgMUfPFcEKcKENdKQtzRoC0R2ZDWF1FrCd7nCWjscMzSbyPNK1TtaMVaZobgABoOzePR9SUAgTPnN5Km6GzCKS2lm1GW6I3hLT5YRRPW/s1600/edit+_MG_9400.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PR2I1ijZerCxf_NeRJNtR5S1NpJI41978Us9lgMUfPFcEKcKENdKQtzRoC0R2ZDWF1FrCd7nCWjscMzSbyPNK1TtaMVaZobgABoOzePR9SUAgTPnN5Km6GzCKS2lm1GW6I3hLT5YRRPW/s400/edit+_MG_9400.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647030458009352850" border="0" /></a></span></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier new;">(Caleb Klay vs. African wildlife)</span>
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<br />Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-44777517609412667062011-08-24T19:15:00.002+02:002011-08-24T19:33:46.016+02:00Beads and Mommas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYwz-_eCrYEwHfewE2T5v8QH3jApT2znI6i7qKftmjhxDzPpEg5-aATpHlayngWODfWN_gwjiGOmnp6Dk8_jybzMpyT2BSQCJY4W82v4AaBTChSiw3ZSxZ4dBkeb-I0sqk0L-h0S-i-YK/s1600/small+edit017.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYwz-_eCrYEwHfewE2T5v8QH3jApT2znI6i7qKftmjhxDzPpEg5-aATpHlayngWODfWN_gwjiGOmnp6Dk8_jybzMpyT2BSQCJY4W82v4AaBTChSiw3ZSxZ4dBkeb-I0sqk0L-h0S-i-YK/s400/small+edit017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644472917908246386" border="0" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier new;">Finally! It's only been a year and a half, but my "irrtiyo" (multi-strand bead necklace) has been completed by Momma Nareyo! Technically all the beads were put together last year, but somehow they became a sort of "min chimbirr" (bird's nest), so I asked Momma to make them look nice - and did she ever! Thanks Momma!</span>
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<br /><span style="font-family: courier new;">(I'm also wearing my "rrimirrimo" which is the beaded headress - young, unmarried ladies put lots of sparklies on theirs, which is why mine is different from Momma's.)</span>
<br /></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-2182544853640638802011-08-24T14:00:00.006+02:002011-08-24T19:14:35.425+02:00Hi, I'm TaMARa (Not TAmara, as I initially believed)<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHbCrbHunNU556hWWASgIcYFLYqwqUHNwkXvbVqd5Q_eQm7m4q-elx5o-8IAHzWuPgEY7R7rDqFcMAAUShZabrJKOEv4TLTqG6a2r1baoAToUk00IStLToILsVif-8c0Kq0bbHtA2B1Zp/s1600/edit+088.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 267px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644392912570925474" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJHbCrbHunNU556hWWASgIcYFLYqwqUHNwkXvbVqd5Q_eQm7m4q-elx5o-8IAHzWuPgEY7R7rDqFcMAAUShZabrJKOEv4TLTqG6a2r1baoAToUk00IStLToILsVif-8c0Kq0bbHtA2B1Zp/s400/edit+088.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">This is my new roommate up in Korr, Tamara or "Tammy," as I prefer to call her, to avoid any mispronunciations! I'm so happy to finally have a friend to work with. I was the only young, single, white lady up in the area for about 6 months, and while I wasn't starting to go crazy by any means (or any crazier than usual), I was, perhaps, getting lost in my own head. When you work with teenagers in any context, and especially when those teenagers are from the bush of Kenya, you really do need someone alongside you to bring you back to reality or be on your team when your dealing with a cultural conflict. While her primary job in Korr is the assist in administration of the Tirrim Project, Tamara's been a great buddy for adventures out to "goobs" and a HUGE help with all my school work (typing up exams, grading papers...). She also has a great sense of humour, which is a necessity in our lives, and also loves obsessively reading quotes out of books aloud. I think we'll do great together.</span></div></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5208257988178789489.post-56053325959338931442011-08-24T11:52:00.008+02:002011-08-24T19:13:51.512+02:00Watch Swap<div><div><div style="font-family: courier new;">Well, the desert heat does more than damage my skin and cause me to move more slowly than I did during 6 am workouts for crew in college. Evidently the plastic they make sport watch bands out of is significantly susceptible to heat. My faithful watch band of the past year and a half has finally fatigued. For the past 2 months I've been using purple masking tape to hold bits together and even had Somo Chawle sew two broken pieces back together with something like 12 guage string, but...
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<br /></div><div style="font-family: courier new;"> </div><div style="font-family: courier new;">So, while I've been in Nairobi one of my chores has been to get my watch band replaced. The shop I went to didn't have a pretty blue, plastic, sporty-looking band, but only had a black faux-leather thing. I asked if they had anything that looked more "youthful," or even one that matched the watch face, but nothing turned up. Even the cashier turned to where I was talking to the repairman and gave her two cents about how ugly the whole project was turning out. She then proceeded to show me her fashion watch, and suggested I buy one like hers. Well, the repair was only 500 shillings and a new sport watch was minimum 1500 shillings, so decision made.
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<br /></div><div style="font-family: courier new;"> </div><div style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-family: courier new;">Here's my newly repaired watch, mismatched and everything...</span>
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<br /></div><div> </div><div> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644387121543997890" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS9llWZytIvM_HqB-wDrhaS13ph_J1T2k09EpsjBi1rvqIDKGZim7qtz-7UASR4SsXFCtLXd2fTk9vV22ESkPHXVhEIb3EftrK5MpwHZBv5e-6SrLPGCBbl4SPvtrnCa7P8fcVV08aJQID/s400/edit+HPIM3788.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div>Claire W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10653154419145091423noreply@blogger.com1