Maasai woman

I’ve been trying to determine at which point the trip became more than I’d planned on – more than I thought it could be.  I went into it [...]]]> (Click on the photos to see the complete picture, and go to the full album by clicking on”latest photos” in the left column).

I’ve been trying to determine at which point the trip became more than I’d planned on – more than I thought it could be.  I went into it excited about time with the students but nervous about the unknown living conditions.  Particularly.. squatty potties, with which I was not yet an expert, despite my nearly three years of living in Africa.  Andy was glad for me to get out of Nairobi and see some more of up-country Kenya.  I guess I was glad for that too, in a sort of disengaged kind of way.  I certainly didn’t expect my life to be changed by the people of a small community called Olepishet.

When we arrived on Friday afternoon, we met with our host coordinator, a Maasai man near my age, named Patrick.  He was dressed in Western clothes, but all the other young men with him were dressed in traditional Maasai clothing.  This means lots of red, beads, and dangling things. There were fourteen of them and fourteen of us.  Their role was to focus on us for the five days that we would be there – as our cooks, our guards, and our “entertainment” (or, as it turned out, our friends).

I’m not going to give you a full detailed minute-by-minute account here.  Instead, what I want to focus on is what or who I found when I went on this trip with twelve high school seniors and one other adult sponsor.  I found a treasure nestled in a lush green area of the Rift Valley.  I’ve been in Kenya for a while now.  I’ve seen a lot of it and met a lot of people, but never had the chance to engage with people in a traditional culture for so long and in so intense a fashion.  The Maasai have many fascinating aspects to their culture, and pretty much none of it is similar to our own American culture.  Although I was sometimes surprised, shocked, and befuddled by the cultural differences, I rather quickly began to melt into their community and found myself changing to become more like them.  After spending time with these men, along with their wives, children, and other family and community members, I found that something was happening in my heart.  There’s no other way to describe it other than that I fell in love with this community.

What was special about it?  I had met Maasai before (spent a weekend at a ladies retreat with 40 Maasai women and loved it). There are, however, many unique and beautiful things I found in the Olepishet community.  Our team talked this all through during our debriefing time following the trip.  The students mentioned that the church’s worship in the Sunday service was amazingly pure, their hospitality and generosity was unparalleled in our collective experience, and that their lives were unusual even for Maasai (they farmed as well as herded cattle).

We talked about how the community leader, an elder named Ole Kijabe, had an amazing testimony of faithfulness and perseverance which stood as a challenge to us all: that one person can actually make a difference in his community, for generations to come.  For me, though, the specialness of this place was hard to name.  It was a profoundness which rocked me as I looked in their eyes, as they gave to me without asking in return, and as I found myself becoming a better person when I was around them.  It seemed that the love and warmth that I always had wanted to show the people of Africa, but for some reason had never been able to, had found a grateful place to land, and so it grew and blossomed.  I discovered that I was smiling more freely and with a sincerity that was startling even to me.  The bond I formed with several of the community members, despite the language barrier, made it nearly impossible to leave.  I think the only thing that kept me from staying behind was my own dear family waiting for me back in Nairobi.

There are a few snapshots I want to give you of the beauty I found in Olepishet.  First, an old woman who approached me after our group had sung for the community.  I had spoken before the songs we sang to explain the meanings, and thus was singled out amongst the fourteen of us.  Also, I was the only adult female in our group.  She (the old woman) and I were completely unable to verbally communicate, with the exception of “Sopa”, which is their greeting.  She stood there before me, grasping my hand and mumbled something.  I looked around desperately for one of the Maasai guys who could interpret her Kimaasai language for us.  He said she really wanted to greet me.   Since we had already greeted each other with “sopa”, I wasn’t sure what more she wanted, as I don’t completely understand the culture.  She was so old that she couldn’t speak intelligibly, so he couldn’t tell me much more. However, as she stood there, just looking in my eyes and seeming to want to say something that she was unable to say, I started to think that she felt a connection to me.  Something had touched her, while I was speaking or singing or maybe it was my appearance, that made her want to cling to me.  Of course I’m guessing here, but it impacted me deeply.  I wanted to speak with her.  To listen to her.  To understand her.  Oh, that I had time and ability to sit down and do those things!

Next portrait: a little girl I met in the cattle corral.  They were showing us the cows that had just come in for the evening.  Their culture revolves around cattle, so this was an important field trip for our group.  However, I wasn’t as interested in cows as in the kids who were milling around staring at us.  There was one little girl who eventually warmed up to me.  She, like the other children, was wearing old, dirty, hand-me-down and re-sized clothes and had been carrying a baby, presumably her sibling, on her back.  The dirt-covered, barefoot children with swarms of flies in their faces stood near us timidly, smiling beautiful smiles and breaking my heart.  The little girl and I played together (speaking Kiswahili) for a while.  I taught her to say “boo” to the boys who kept sneaking up for a peak at me.  Finally, she just wanted to stand by me.  I was wearing my shuka (Maasai blanket) around my shoulders.  Shortly before this, an older woman had tied it on for me, Maasai-lady style.  The girl got under the shuka and clung to my waist.  You wouldn’t have even known she was there, she was completely hidden.  I discovered from my English-speaking Maasai friend, Geoffrey, that she is his cousin, is six years old, and her name is Sietoi.  I had to leave her when the sun finally set.  The next day, Geoffrey helped me by telling Seitoi’s mother that I wanted to see Sietoi again.  She came to our campsite after school (she walks quite far to and from school every day) and we exchanged gifts.  She gave me a beaded bracelet.  She didn’t want to let go that day, since it was “ole sere” (good-bye) for us.  Neither did I.  Her mother came to say “ole sere” and “ashe oleng” (thank you very much) the next day as we left the village, and she brought yet another bracelet for me from Sietoi.

Next, I want to tell you about Lillian.  She is the wife of Patrick, our host and the pastor of the church.  Lillian seems quite young.  Maybe early twenties, but I’m not sure.  She and I met on our second day and saw each other once a day afterwards.  We could only communicate with each other in Kiswahili, but neither of us were very good at it since for both of us, Kiswahili is our second language.  So, we spent most of time smiling at each other, holding hands, wanting to say that we wanted to get to know each other but couldn’t even get that far.  Women in their culture are quite separated from the men.  It seemed to be unusual to find a husband and wife actually standing together.  So, getting anyone to interpret for us was pretty much impossible. Finally I asked Patrick if he could tell her that I had a gift for her.  He brought her to me, so they were together when I gave it to her, and I was thus able to say a little of what I wanted to say.  I gave her a few things, including my small Bible, and said that I hoped she could use it as she learned English, as I knew she was trying to do.  She gave to me a beautiful beaded necklace, which was very elaborate and probably cost her a great deal to make.  When we were loading into the vans the next day, she was there to say “ole sere”.  She gave me another amazing necklace and clung to me.  What I can’t forget about Lillian is her expressive eyes.  I long to know what she wanted to say.

The fourteen Maasai men, (you could call them warriors, though most had already past the official warrior age, which begins in your teens and extends into your early twenties), surprised and warmed my heart.  You won’t believe this, but we bonded over volleyball, playing Uno, and some amusing incidents around the campfire.  I taught them my few card tricks and nearly beat them at Uno (they were too good, though).  A few of them spoke English, which was wonderful.  Most of them spoke decent Kiswahili, so communication went quite well with their group, especially since we had two Kenyan students in our group.

Three of them are teachers in nearby communities, where there are schools, though they have not been to university.  Geoffrey, whom I mentioned earlier, told me about some seminars he has taken to learn how to teach math and he hopes to go to university some day and study early childhood development.  This surprised me, and yet, when I saw him with the children, I could see that he was serious.  The rest of the men work with the cattle and in the fields each day, just like every member of the community.  Many are married with small children.  They all live in nearly identical manyattas, (mud huts).  Most are related to one another in some way, since many of them come from Ole Kijabe’s family.

We actually did work and not just play Uno, but only a little bit.  We helped fortify a fence with branches from trees for several hours.  The majority of the time was spent learning about their culture and their community, and also just hanging out.  Had we gone there just to work,  the experience would have been very different.  The downtime gave us the opportunity to ask questions, laugh, sing, and bond.  The students had a great time, too.  We grew together as a team, as well.  But, our focus wasn’t on us as much as it was on the Maasai, which was as it should have been.
By the last evening, around dinner time, it had really sunk in to me that this trip was proving to be a pivotal point in my life.  I had begun to recognize that I had been changing and that I liked who I was becoming.  I began to get worried about leaving and not being able to come back.  I began to worry that I would forget about it once I got back to “reality”.  I saw that the love for the people that had been growing in me seemed to be reciprocated, as my collection of jewelry gifts was growing (in the end I had been given twenty different items), as people wanted their picture with me, and I was called on more and more to speak and pray for the group.  It made me realize that five days was not enough for these new friendships.  God was building something beautiful, I knew it.

Beginning on the drive back, I began to pray and reflect.  What was God doing?  Surely every CFS (‘Cultural Field Studies’ – Rosslyn Academy’s program) wasn’t like this!  How could people live with the heartache of leaving every year? I asked around other groups, I asked the students in our group, I asked teachers about other places/trips and I realized that my personal experience wasn’t the norm.  Those who had experiences like mine were few and far between.  I knew that God had sent me there for a purpose and that the connection I found there was something that began long ago when I started to dream about going to Africa.  That this was the place I had dreamed of, and these were the people.

As I reflected, I knew that I still feel called to Rosslyn Academy, to teaching theatre, and to my students (third-culture-kids, specifically) and that Andy’s job is the best job in the world for him.  None of that had changed with this trip.  I realized, though, that this was an answer to prayer for us.  Andy had been talking for a long time about us going up-country as a family occasionally, as he gets to experience so much on his trips of Africa outside of Nairobi that we never see.  He knew it would be good for me and for the kids.  We had been watching other families, both at AIM IS and at Rosslyn, who have ministries up-country which they do “on the side,” but I could never understand how they started those and why.  Now I get it.  God must forge the relationship and He must originate the passion.  It just hadn’t happened for us… yet.

There are some places, Olepishet being one of them, which have already had missionaries there, (and in this case, the missionaries have left), and where a healthy church has been established, but that still have needs in the community.  Education, health-care, church-leader-training, and clean water are all areas of need that I can immediately see in Olepishet. Their joy in the Lord, purity of worship, and generosity masked their needs, but I knew there had to be more than they were saying.  I actually don’t even know what the specific dreams are of my new friends Patrick and Ole Kijabe for their community.  But I intend to ask.

Andy and I have agreed to try to go there as a family over Spring Break, if we can arrange it with them, to introduce my family to the community, to continue the relationship, and to try to find out what God wants us to do there.  The “God-thing” about it all is that some of the hardest part has been done, the foundation of friendship and trust has been laid, which is only because of the format of this particular CFS site, the chemistry between our group and the community, and the stirring of the Holy Spirit in me to not let it end.  Andy and I are praying even now about some particular ideas and we are excited to see what God does.

Would you pray with us that we will follow God and listen carefully?  We’ll definitely keep you informed of anything concrete that comes up.  Will you also pray for my new friends in Olepishet?  I think you can see the needs behind the stories.  Thank you for your love and openness to the people of Africa through your support of us and prayers.  God is doing something great.  What a privilege to be even a small part of it.

“Because it’s hard,” we told them. “They hear the news of this place and they’re afraid.”

Then one of the pastors said something I can’t forget.

“In the past there were missionaries who loved us and accepted to [...]]]>

I sat in the dark in a semi-circle of Congelese pastors and they asked us, “Why haven’t the missionaries returned?”

“Because it’s hard,” we told them. “They hear the news of this place and they’re afraid.”

Then one of the pastors said something I can’t forget.

“In the past there were missionaries who loved us and accepted to suffer with us.”

And I wondered if the past was just that, past.

The latest film from the OFM team, and my labor of love the past 4 months while doing many other things simutaneously. I didn’t go on this trip, or do any of the camera work, or write the script. You’d think everything else would be the easy part, so why does such a project take 4 months?

• script revision
• scratch (temporary) voice over recording
• rough cut (wading through 10 hours of footage for the right clip)
• recording the voice over again with my voice
• recording the voice over again with another missionary’s voice
• recording the voice over again with the voice of the missionary (OFM team member, Mike Delorenzo), who wrote the script and I became convinced was the only voice who would make it authentic since these are his experiences and his words
• recording the voice over again with Mike with more feeling (or, mole feering as we like to say in the OFM office, [bill murray: lost in translation])
• titling (the text sequences throughout the film)
• color grading (making each shot look as best it can)
• re-recording the voice over with Mike after more script corrections came in from the central region
• and finally, I spent about a week on the soundtrack, which I made with a little 42 key keyboard and Logic Studio
• Oh yeah, I took 2 other trips (North Kenya and Lesotho) during this time.

So, you can see how finally finishing a film is kind of like giving birth. Ok, maybe I don’t really know what that’s like, but there’s a nice release and sense of accomplishment when finally finishing something that took so long to produce.

Tomorrow I’m taking the OFM team to North Africa. I’m really really excited…

It’s been a few weeks since we’ve shared with you, ok maybe a few months if you don’t follow us on twitter or facebook, but we do have some immediate things we need prayer for:

On Friday, Lesa is leading a group of over a dozen 12th grade girls on a CFS trip (Cultural Field [...]]]> Hi friends,

It’s been a few weeks since we’ve shared with you, ok maybe a few months if you don’t follow us on twitter or facebook, but we do have some immediate things we need prayer for:

On Friday, Lesa is leading a group of over a dozen 12th grade girls on a CFS trip (Cultural Field Studies). She will be taking this group of young ladies into the heart of Masaai land, staying in local homes, participating in local culture, building cross-cultural relationship, for about 5 days. She will also be mentoring and discipling these girls, which is something Lesa loves to do more than anything! Please pray for her safety and comfort and for great relationships to be built, both with the high schoolers and with the Masaai. Also pray for special “dad” time with the kids while Lesa’s away.

In just under 2 weeks, Andy is leading the OFM (On-Field Media) team to North Africa, to a country he’s never been to but has always wanted to visit. A country where there are no “missionaries” because such a thing would get you expelled from the country, or worse. A country where the cost to local believers for following Christ is more than most of us could bear. And yet the church lives, and we hope to share in that, encourage the church, and capture some of these stories and people and culture on film for the edification and building up of the worldwide church. Please pray for safety in the air and especially on the ground, for open doors to be able to capture the stories and images of these people, for salt and light to be shared.

In just over 2 weeks, Robbie (excuse me… it’s “Robert” now) will be going on the 5th grade CFS (Cultural Field Studies) trip, something new and exciting for him! Pray for God to continue to mold and shape Robert’s character into something special, beautiful, unique, and Christ-like through this experience.

Lesa is also in the thick of rehearsals for a middle school play, and the high-school spring musical. Pray for balance and managing stress and especially for good relationships and experiences for the students involved.

Andy is in the thick of managing the OFM team, which has now grown to 3 full-time, 2 part-time staff. (In contrast, Lesa is managing over 60 students in the high school musical!) He’s trying to finish videos shot 6 months ago, having shot 3 projects since then that are sitting on his desk waiting to be captured and logged. Pray for him to be a good manager and for good time-management and prioritization. Pray for the team’s efforts to continue to bear fruit all around the world for the cause of missions.

Thank you all for your continued prayers and support of our ministries here in Africa. God knit us together for times like this, that we can support and prop each other up in prayer. We thank God for you all.

-Andy and Lesa

Next production… Lesa’s directing a middle school play: “Chateau La Roach”, which he had seen done in [...]]]> …was a smashing success. In fact, a Dutch man from Amsterdam came up to Lesa after one of the performances and exclaimed that this was the best production and the most authentic costumes and set he had ever seen.

Next production… Lesa’s directing a middle school play: “Chateau La Roach”, which he had seen done in Virginia and loved. And rehearsals for the HS musical, “Seussical” have already started as well.

Full photos of the Diary of Anne Frank:

Beating Nairobi’s infamous traffic while keeping dry and looking fashionable take a team effort.

You’ll notice Andy’s ensemble begins with the requisite helmet. A gift from Daniel McLaughlin and previously Max Katzer.

Next we find the mostly rainproof jacket (Craiglist, $100) complemented nicely by the Buell monostrap backpack, on loan from Jonathan Broga.

Covering [...]]]>

Andy and his piki-piki

Beating Nairobi’s infamous traffic while keeping dry and looking fashionable take a team effort.

You’ll notice Andy’s ensemble begins with the requisite helmet. A gift from Daniel McLaughlin and previously Max Katzer.

Next we find the mostly rainproof jacket (Craiglist, $100) complemented nicely by the Buell monostrap backpack, on loan from Jonathan Broga.

Covering Andy’s lower half we find rainproof and padded “overpants”, from New Enough apparel.

Rounding out the ensemble are Andy’s 12 year old waterproof goretex hiking boots ($120 back in 1997)

The bike? A Honda 650XL on loan from Caleb Clay, an SIM aircraft mechanic. (Please pray Andy finds his own before Caleb returns in December!)

Honorable mentions also go to Matthew and Aaron Blick, Glen Collison, and the illinois Department of Motor Vehicles for the assistance in learning to ride and getitng a license this summer. (Glen… sorry again about dropping your bike!)

It was my 2nd time in Korr, Northern Kenya, in the desolate desert of what’s called the “northern frontier district.” Frontier is the right word, as this is past the edge [...]]]> Cramming in the bed of a pickup truck with 21 Rendille women wearing little more than beads is an interesting way to spend your day.

It was my 2nd time in Korr, Northern Kenya, in the desolate desert of what’s called the “northern frontier district.” Frontier is the right word, as this is past the edge of civilization by at least an 8 hour drive.

The lack of water is a big problem in East Africa right now. 2 years of miserably poor rainy seasons and deforestation of parts of the Kenyan highlands have left many people in a bad state. (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8057316.stm) Especially in the desert, where people rely on their animals for survival, not just the meat but liquid from milk and blood. These people, mostly nomadic, move their entire village with the herds, or send the warriors out for months at a time with the herds, in a never-ending search for water and grazing. So when it doesn’t rain, the animals get sick and die, and the people lose not only their way of life but the very thing that keeps them alive.

So, when we pull up to a village (a “goob” in the local language) with our Land Cruiser, the women (who have the job of finding water and firewood every day) seize the opportunity to save themselves a 4 hour walk to the well and back. They run to their huts, grab whatever containers they can find, and swamp the truck. You can’t imagine how many people can fit in the bed of a pickup truck until you try it. If there was room for one more foot, or for one more person to hang on to the side of the truck it would be taken.

As we bounced along the bush, crossing dry streams, swerving to avoid camel carcasses, the women sang. They sang the entire drive to the well, at the top of their lungs. When we stopped so they could fill their jugs, I asked Nick (the missionary who was hosting us) what they were singing about. “Praise songs to Jesus, mostly,” he replied.

The volume of their singing doubled on the trip back to their village with the now-full jugs of water. It was a double blessing for those ladies that day, not only saving them 4 hours of walking, but half of that with a back-breaking load of water(well, back-breaking if I tried it, but these ladies are tough and strong!). It was a double opportunity for them to sing out in praise and thanksgiving to their God, to our God.

Last time I was in Korr, Ted and I filmed an interview with Indubbayo, a woman who came to Christ through the local literacy classes and now serves God as a traveling evangelist, visiting goob after goob, sharing the hope and peace she’s found in Christ. A hope and peace that’s pretty rare in these desperate times.

2 years ago when Ted and I were here, she shared one of the songs she’d written. A worship song to God, in the traditional Rendille style. Something that hadn’t been done before, up until that point the church was mostly singing songs from other sources that had been translated into Rendille.

And now, 2 years later, through Indubayyo and the literacy programs Rendille are coming to know Jesus, and each village is coming up with a unique, indigenous expression of worship.

As a musician, and a closet ethnomusicologist, that really excites me. And bouncing along these dusty roads with these beaded women worshiping God for the little blessings in life, reminds me of why I’m here in Africa, and why I love what God has us doing.

We knew it would be a hard couple of weeks upon our arrival in Africa. We were planning on it being [...]]]> This is the update I didn’t want to write. I am writing it to share our feelings and document our experience of the past 2 weeks, but I’m finding it laborious to write the words.

We knew it would be a hard couple of weeks upon our arrival in Africa. We were planning on it being hard, knowing that within days of landing Lesa would begin staff training at Rosslyn, I would be moving our possessions across town and we’d be extremely jetlagged. We knew it would be hard, but not this hard.

Frank Toews

After landing in Nairobi and clearing customs, we were greeted by my friend Ted with the news of the AIM AIR crash that afternoon. Our friend Frank, the pilot, was dead. Our friend Ryan, an engineer who was also sitting in the front of the plane, was in the hospital with serious burns. Our hearts sank, as did our knees to the floor of the airport.

We lived between the 2 families for a couple months last year. Ryan’s oldest son and my 2nd son are great friends. But beyond our feelings, our entire small close-knit community of AIM International Services was reeling and hurting. Hurting for our friends, for their children, for ourselves, for each other. Confident, though, in Frank’s presence with our heavenly Father.

We still had a job to do. Lesa still had staff training to attend, and we still needed to move houses within the week. I managed to secure a lorry (truck) and 7 strong kenyan men to help, and we moved on Wednesday. Ryan died on Friday, at a special hospital for burns in South Africa.

Ryan's toolbox at the AIM AIR hangar

Frank’s memorial service was Tuesday, Ryan’s was Saturday. Between the two services, we had Ryan’s son to our house for a sleepover. I’ve been really proud of my sons as they’ve lost their selfishness the past few weeks to do what they needed to do to support their friends.

So, here we are, just over 2 weeks after arriving in Africa. A tough couple of weeks that has taught us a lot. Taught us that God is good and deserving of praise even when praising seems like such a sacrifice. Things are picking up, the house is getting unpacked, the kids have started school, and Sydney is loving kindergarten. Life really is good, and God is great.

More information on the AIM AIR crash:
World Magazine, “Crash in Kenya” http://www.worldmag.com/webextra/15749
AIM news http://www.aimint.org/usa/news/
AIM AIR blog http://www.aimair.org/page21/page21.html

Anyhow, we recently released this video, and it is now [...]]]> Almost a year ago I was tasked with creating a video to be used across AIM to show what the orientation process looks like. Who better to have do that than the video guy whose family was just wrapping up their first term at new missionaries?

Anyhow, we recently released this video, and it is now being distributed to all AIM missionary candidates, but we thought we’d share it here as well so you can enjoy what our last 2 years have been like!