2nd Tier Missions

I often ask myself why I don't post blog entries as often as I did when we first came to Africa.  One reason I don't post as often is laziness, probably.  Another is simply being "too busy" (which is a poor excuse, as we all have the same 24 hours each day!).

 Another reason is that Africa seems like "home" now; it is our not-so-new normal. So, great blog ideas don't spring as readily to my mind as they once did.  I forget that what may seem mundane to me might actually be interesting to someone who lives across the ocean.

Two examples  ........

• I heard that a few of my students camped out last weekend, and that a group of large, male baboons woke them up (and scared them silly!) by poking the campers' backsides with sticks.  While this story amused me when I heard it, I didn't immediately think, "Oh!  What an amazing thing to happen!  I must blog about this!" 

• Tim recently told me about a female patient from a neighboring country who is dying of cancer in the post-surgery ward and has no family nearby to stay with her.  She is slowly dying, all alone, in a foreign hospital, with overworked, understaffed nurses who cannot give her as much care as she needs and deserves.   She has no money, only one set of clothes, and must depend on the charity of strangers (other patients) who share their small amount of food with her.  In the "old" days, this woman's plight would have been a series of posts.  This time around, I only sigh, breathe a prayer for this suffering woman, pray for her aloud with Tim in the mornings, and wish life did not have to be so hard for so many.  But, no pictures.  No posts.  No fanfare. 

Part of blogging is sheer force of will and habit.  I'm asking God to help me get back on track.  But part of blogging - at least this blog - has been writing about new experiences and my processing of those experiences.  Since not much is new anymore, I find it harder and harder to write my thoughts.  

I believe that (slight) burnout or "missions fatique" may be another reason I do not blog as often as I once did.  Some things feel so painful for me to even think about that I just do not feel I have the energy to process them.  It seems much less exhausting to shove those experiences under the rug of my consciousness and not allow them to break my heart.   

I've learned that while this works in the short term, refusing to face hard things drains me more in the long run.  The experiences build and build and, next thing I know, I am angry at the world for being so unfair and maybe even angry at God for allowing His world to be so full of pain.

So, while I'm getting back on track......and on a happier note, I decided to show you a bit of what ministry looks like for me here in Kenya.

*not my actual students*

Teaching MKs -- what a JOY!!! These kids rock.  They really do.  Each has a different life perspective than the other -- each has rich stories to share about growing up in Tanzania, or Malawi, or South Sudan, or Kenya, or Rwanda or South Africa, etc. etc. etc.

Our first essay in my Senior English class, by necessity, is the College Essay.  Most choose to answer the first prompt from the dreaded Common App, which reads:

"Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story."

While I work at becoming a regular blogger again, I've invited any students who would like to do so to share their college essays with you.

I think you will enjoy reading the life stories of these missionary kids from all over the continent of Africa.  And, perhaps you'll glimpse a bit of what it looks like to serve as a "2nd tier missionary" here at RVA.  (I think I just made up that term - if not, I don't remember where I first heard it.)  What I mean by 2nd tier missionary is, I no longer serve on the front lines in a mission field, which is what I would consider 1st tier or front line missions.  

I now support front line or 1st tier missionaries all over the continent by teaching their children, so those 1st tier missionaries can STAY on the front lines and not need to return to the USA for their children's education.

Like you in the United States who support us and other missionaries financially, I feel that I am now in a more supportive role for missions to Africa.  My mission now is to support missionaries - and of course, to teach and love missionary kids.  Anyone who knows me knows I've loved teens forever.....so my "job" comes pretty naturally to me these days! (At least, the "loving kids" part comes naturally - perhaps the "teaching British lit" part of my job requires a tad more effort!!)

I still get to do some 1st tier work, as we continue our work with Seka Handbags in Rwanda and help in some other ways in Kibogora, Rwanda and Idjwi Island, where our son, Deste, was born. 

But, primarily, I am now a missions supporter, just like you.  And, I love my role!  Just like you, this support is critical - without financial support from America, missionaries cannot continue to serve.  And without education for missionary children, missionaries cannot continue to serve, either.

So, without further ado, here is the first (of many, hopefully) MK stories from one of my students, who will remain nameless.  :-)

I added in the pictures. Those were not included on this MK's college app (though maybe that would be a great idea!).

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College Application Essay - Prompt 1

Moving anywhere can be both exhilarating and terrifying; especially as a young child crossing continents and cultures. In 2005, two months before I turned five, my family moved from Boston, Massachusetts all the way across the world to Mombasa, Kenya. 

At the time, I was excited and as long as I had my family and my blanket, I was happy and didn’t see the significance of it and the effect it would have on my life. As time went on, however, and I began to understand and experience things more, the profound affect this change was having on my life suddenly became more apparent to me. 

Adapting to the culture was quite a learning experience for my family. Mombasa is such a mixing bowl of cultures and beliefs that it isn’t just learning about one people group’s customs. There are so many things to remember about how people of different backgrounds view certain things, things I would never have imagined had my family remained in Boston. For example, when we first came to Kenya we had to go to a language school for a while to learn Kiswahili. During this period, on a trip to town in a matatu (cheap public transportation) the van became way too full of people. Since my brother and I were so young and little we had to be passed through the windows to get out of the vehicle. It was a very interesting experience, to say the least. Another time, when I was a little bit older, I was with my family and some friends staying at some beachside cottages for a few days. After we had eaten lunch, I was munching on my favorite Indian snack and walking around. Suddenly, a monkey came out of the tree nearby and started chasing me.  Needless to say, I was completely mortified and scared out of my wits. As I was running, I began screaming for help but my laughing family found the whole situation quite amusing and kept yelling after me to drop the food. In the end, I didn’t drop the snack but my dad ended up scaring the monkey away with a stroller.

Another thing I would have never experienced if I had stayed in the USA is the annual Kenya Music Festival. This is where hundreds of students from all around Kenya come together to compete, both vocally and instrumentally. In the sixth grade I was both taking voice lessons and singing in the school choir. That year our school entered several categories, and I was in three of them: choir, operatic solo, and duet. The whole experience was quite exhilarating. I was quite surprised when the results were given to see that out of the hundreds of students who had competed, I had come fourth in every category in which I competed. That year in choir deepened my love for music and allowed me to see the many talented people in Kenya.

The only downside I’ve experienced from our move is that now, whenever our family visits the United States, my “home” country, I feel like I’m entering a different world, and that I am a stranger there.  Sometimes it’s hard to answer the questions “where is home?” and “where do you live?” The way I’ve grown up is so different than what could have been, but life is so much more colorful and diverse to me here. Some people may consider uprooting a young child’s entire world and altering the very definition of her life to be a terrible thing, but I know I wouldn’t be who I am today if I hadn’t been transplanted to Kenya at such an early age, and I really appreciate the opportunities that I’ve had to see the world through new eyes.