trip to the ocean

This past week we packed up our vehicle and trailer to head out on a four-day trip to the coast.  The kids have been asking to got to the beach since we first returned to Mozambique six months ago as their memories of Mozambique had most definitely included sand and water.

Cohen (now seven years old) has been enjoying more and more responsibilites and seems to sit just a bit straighter and taller every time he his given a man-sized task--like helping to lock up the trailer withe all of our food and supplies for our get-away.

Alex said her goodbyes to her very good friend, Jacinta.

Spirits high, the children pleaded for one "crazy" picture.  And then we were off...

...and this is not the beach.

This is us broken down on the side of the road.

Although a majority of the two and a half hour drive to the coast is pretty smooth, the last half hour the roads are quite terrible and on one particularly bad jolt, the trailer hitch broke.  Thankfully, it was ONLY the trailer hitch and nothing serious on the car.  And thankfully, we had friends who were only an hour and a half behind us who had planned to meet us at the beach.  So we made the best of it and the kids played in the sand on the side of the road while we waited.

Apparently our being stranded on the side of the road was THE sight to see for all passing by.  I kid you not, people count our kids every time they see us out as a family.  Although Mozambican families always have a passle of children, they are not usually accustomed to seeing "white" people--let alone "white" people with four children. 

We did finally make it to the beach, after our friends came along and picked up our trailer.

It was just as much fun as the older ones remembered. Alex got to experience the ocean for the first time as I got to re-live the panicky feeling of my babies being completely unafraid of the water.

We found hermit crabs and starfish and all manner of other sea creatures.

When not at the beach, we relaxed at a cabin while the kids explored.

Wesley and Alex found the hammocks and claimed them for our stay.  (Don't let this picture fool you--most of the time they were screeching at eachother for their turn).

We spent the evenings around a fire with our friends and co-workers.

There is nothing quite like huddling around a fire on a cool evening after a day in the sand and water.

We brought back little red noses, towels loaded wtih sand, and a few hermit crabs destined for an untimely end at the hands of over-zealous keepers. 

Love the ocean.

"daddy's chores"

The kids usually look forward to a family movie and home-made pizza on Saturday evenings, but halfway through dinner, their daddy got a call that changed our plans.  One of Stefan's Mozambican friends was going through a family crisis and needed someone to talk to--so in less than a minute he was gone. 

And there I sat with four children sitting around the table staring at me--their expectations dashed--not to mention my own...and a mountain of dishes in the kitchen.  So I put it to the children--their daddy was called away on an important task to help someone who needed help--what could we do to make that happen?  The kids thought about it for a moment then suggested that maybe they could do "Daddy's chores" so that he could go help his friend and wouldn't have to do them when he got home later this evening.  So glad they thought of that themselves (wink).

And so we began our evening of service.  Cohen (6) volunteered to wash the dishes and Christian (5) offered to dry.  Wesley (3) was given the task of playing with and caring for Alex (1 1/2).  We turned on some music and set to work.  Admittedly, the dish towel is a bit greasy this evening after cleaning off some food our volunteer dish washer missed.  And admittedly the volunteer dish drier got distracted when Steve Fee's "Glory To God" song played over the ipod and he dashed off to lead his two younger sisters in a jamming session in the living room.  And truthfully, Wesley has a very limited ability to corall and entertain her younger sister without simultaneously making her scream.  Between dishes and sweeping and drumming, it was soon bedime. 

I of course appreciated their help and cooperation, but mostly what brought so much joy to the evening was seeing that they seemed to grasp that they were doing it SO THAT their Dad could do his work.  It was not just a "salvaged" evening together--it became a purposeful and meaningful evening--right on down to little Alex clapping her hands and dancing to the music.

It also struck me that this kind of evening was possible because of who Stefan is.  I'm not talking about him being the kind of guy who will drop his home-made pizza on a Saturday night to go help a friend--although he is that.  The truth is, many fathers miss their dinners because of work.  Many fathers miss family movie night to go hang out with friends.  Many fathers miss tucking their kids in to bed because their "ministry" has called them away.  But my kids' father doesn't.  He makes it a habit to be home to share dinner with us.  He works hard and we juggle schedules so that Saturdays are spent together as a family.  He washes Saturday evening dishes (usually).  As a family we are "full."  And because we are full, when an emergency comes up, we can swallow our temporary dissappointment, wave good bye, and "do his chores."  We know that tomorrow we will have supper together and that chances are, next Saturday we will all watch a movie together. 

 And of course he'll do next Saturday evening's dishes...right honey?

smells

Standing outside the bread store the other evening, after jostling our way throgh the streets, the girls and I waited as Stefan and the boys bought our bread for the evening.  As we stood to the side trying to keep out of the way of the crowds making their way home for the evening, Wesley scowled and said, "Mommy, I smell something." 

In Africa there are always strong smells--I love the smell of fresh rain wetting down the dusty roads,  of frangipani and jasmine stretching over our neighbor's wall into our yard, of fresh tropical fruit sitting on my kitchen counter, or of the neighbor's maid making chicken curry for their dinner.  But just as those smells are so acute here, so also are the other smells of life--the garbage heaped up accross the street, the blood from the goat slaughtered next door,  the stench of urine on all the trees in the city.

So in the midst of all those competing smells, what did my little daughter detect that made her scrunch up her pretty little nose? Was it the freshly baked bread from the store?  The overripe bananas at the vendor's feet beside her? What do you smell sweetie?  SnifF, Sniff..."I smell...I smell...people."

Ah yes.  Indeed you do.  

That IS the smell of people.  Hundreds all around her walking home in the African heat to no showers...and no soap. Fortunately the "smell" of people is just a candid observation for a little three-year-old who will still laugh and hug and hold and never turn away in disgust.

We did get out of the crowd of the city the other day, though, and had a lovely walk in nature.

We examined leaves and  collected rocks and flowers. Chased dragonflies and shy crabs.  Walked through tall grass and accross "scary" marshy pathways. Smelled dry fish, deisel and rotting wood.   Smelled freshly cut grass, a grilling chicken and leather on a slingshot. There really is no excaping "smell" in Africa.

lies and truth

I laughed tonight during a most mind-boggling conversation with Fernando as we heated up his water for tea. I laughed so that I wouldn't get angry.

Fernando works for us in the evenings as a security guard. As such, he spends the night hours walking around our apartment building, sitting guard at the front gate, and (who are we kidding?) sleeping. But it is comforting to know he is there.

Every month we give him a big bag of sugar and box of tea to help him stay awake during the long nights. And every night we heat up a thermos of water and Stefan chats with him. Tonight we got on the subject of the rats that also roam freely about our yard at night. Fernando noted that our neighborhood has some extremely large rats and that his wife had been asking him for some time now to catch them and bring them home (for food). Stefan asked him why he wasn't killing them and Fernando began to laugh and say that they were too big and too fast for him. So we joked about sending our son Christian down to help him.

And then Fernando said one of those things that people say here that you're not quite sure if you heard right. He said (roughly translated), "Well, they won't let me catch them because they know I'm going to eat them. But if you were to come down, they will let you catch them because they know you're just going to kill them and throw them out." And then he laughed. And we laughed. And then he said it again. And just to be sure he was saying what I thought he was saying, asked, "So, the rats have a preference? They don't mind to be caught to be killed and tossed, but they won't let YOU catch them because they know you will eat them?" He laughed and said "Yes." And he was dead serious. And Fernando knows I don't believe a word he just said, and he laughs and thinks I'm just an ignorant white lady. And I laugh because...

Well, because if I don't, I'll just get angry. Get angry once again at all the lies people believe. Granted, this is a somewhat "silly" or inconsequential lie that obviously doesn't have far-reaching consequences on his life. But it is just a small representation of all the deception that so many people live under here in Mozambique and accross Africa. And how those lies affect every aspect of their lives.

The other day I was working on a meal with Jacinta in our backyard. The kids were playing around us and suddenly she stopped what she was doing. She had been tossing peanuts in the air with a winnow. She waited for a while and then shyly asked if I wouldn't mind moving Wesley, who had walked in front of her and stood their watching. I directed Wesley to the side and then as Jacinta began working again, she explained that one cannot winnow when a young child is in front of the winnow. If she were to continue with the child there, the food that she was preparing would not "satisfy." In fact, the winnow would be cursed in such a way that from then on, all food that was prepared in it would leave a person feeling hungry. It would be necessary to get a traditional healer to "bless" it with traditional medicine before it would once again work properly.

In America we throw around the phrase, "The truth will set you free" as a trite saying. (Maybe because we are blind to our own lies that we cling to so tennaciously?) But really and truly, the lies around us here in Africa are so pervasive. And they are so crippling. And I'm reminded of the hold the Deciever enjoys on the lives of so many people around us through his lies.

"Walk in truth." Up until now I have tended to think of that phrase as a command to follow. An exhortation to live up to. But tonight I feel overwhelmed by the privilege I have of walking in truth. I'm overwhelmed by all the aspects of my life that God's truth has already impacted--by all the ways I'm free. I'm humbled by the responsibility of walking in truth--so that lies around me will be exposed and the people around us will come to know the joy and freedom that comes from knowing Truth.