The Question

As of today (Thursday) we have a week and four days till we leave Otjiwarongo. Our trip back to America starts July 1st (driving to the capital, then spending the night there) then arriving at Dulles on July 3rd. My room is a wreck of half-packed clothes, makeup and miscellaneous items. Anyone want a denim Bible case? A pair of size 3 [US s6] heels? A box of random craft stuff I've never found the time to use?

A week and four days.
AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAAAAHH!!!!!! OH MY GOODNESS.

This is the weird part where I say good bye to people in Africa (who have become my entire teen-hood) and say 'See you next year!' and go back to the people that, in a certain way, I left behind with my childhood (not that I've forgotten you - I love you, my Americaners!) - this is the part where I see what remains of the friendships I've been (not-so-diligently) keeping alive through letters and Facebook since I was twelve years old. For those who don't know, we're going on six years since we moved to Africa.

Returning to our old churches, Co-ops, dance classes and Youth Groups, we'll likely face warm welcomes and bear hugs. On sabbatical, like any other missionary, we'll go to friends' houses, "need-to-catch-up" meetings at restaurants and visit our supporters' Churches. The missionary goes from volunteer work in hospitals, schools and growing churches on the mission field to suddenly adopting the job of 'Nomadic Socialite' on their trip to the Motherland. Yep. My job (and that of my parents) is to talk to people.

Oddly, in the middle of that, I will likely face the Alien-sensation; take that however you want. The MK (oooor military brat, exchange student, immigrant, etc.) who faces their childhood home again will probably find it odd to be back ... and feel like the world has moved on without them. And depending on how different their other culture is, they may also feel like they have a third eyeball growing in the middle of their head.

 It's great to have friends greet you with enthusiasm and ask you questions about your life in Africa (or wherever). Even better is the look on their faces when you speak as fast as you can in some crazy foreign language that they've never even heard the name of. All that is fine and dandy - in fact, most of the above mentioned are pleasures enjoyed solely by Third-Culture-Kids.

But there's something huge missing. Let's return to the phrase above - which, by the way, I completely made up - Alien-sensation. I remember how I felt like a foreigner in my own country. Yep. I said it. I was surrounded by friendly people, but down in my spirit I knew very well that I didn't belong. My clothing, the things I said, and my social awkwardness didn't help me much. (This second-go-'round, I think I'll be better at all of that.)

But something else separates the American-African that isolates them in a crowd of Westerners. Honestly, there are emotions and situations that very few single-culture people understand - this can lead to a deep loneliness in those separated from their mission field. (Interestingly, studies have shown that MK's from completely different countries tend to feel at home in each other's presence. We share 'the commonality of our differences'.)


 Of course, the loneliness is not the worst of it! There's one thing ... one terrible, awkward, heart-wrenching question that Americans and other Western non-travelling citizens use to terrorize their poor, victimized missionaries on a regular basis. And by a regular basis, I mean just about every single day. *deep breath*  (I can hardly type it).



                                                How's.        Africa.



That's it. Just plain ol' 'Hey, how's Africa?' from a friend or relative is destructive to the Missionary's view of said person. You have lost about ten brownie points. Did your I.Q. level just drop? Did you just get 3 inches shorter? Now that I think of it, you kind of smell. And your brow is protruding ominously over your eyes.


I'm just kidding. I started that paragraph trying to make a point, but then I couldn't stop my nasty facetious personality from taking control of the keyboard. Do understand, there's no one I look down on that much. Especially not someone who unknowingly walked into the Danger Zone of a sarcastic, talkative, I-know-everything redhead. Really though, roughly half of the MK's in Africa you'll come across will be annoyed by this question. And practically all of the ones I talked to found the question very hard to answer.

My response is usually a smile with a connotative 'All kinds of stuff. How's the continent of North America been lately?'



The Part II of this post is coming up where I will provide solutions for the problem I have brought up. Mean while, do refrain from asking the question.

I'm still alive!

A million times sorry for my absence! I know it's been a very long time since I've written and I hope my dear readers will forgive me, but I've been so busy lately with a good deal of school work, chores and life. After a long day of putting effort into school, writing, dance and music, I feel like a brainless blob. It's very hard to blog in that condition.

My life has been interesting - a lot of up's and down's lately. The children are still in our care and growing more and more healthy everyday - I hate to say that our three-year-old girl, on the other hand, still suffers from separation anxiety on a regular basis. She's grown incredibly sensitive, particularly when someone leaves the house.

The court date, for the millionth time, has been moved back. We are waiting, still, for something to happen. Meanwhile, this has become home to the little kids. It's been at least nine months since they moved in with us and all four have come to see us as their real family.

Sometimes it's hard doing foster care in Africa. Please, continue to pray for my family. Don't give up on this! It's very far from over.

With Much Love,
Kailey

Missionary support

Days have passed in tiresome work. It's just one of those days when I go from one thing to the other, and in the end I feel like I'm in a fog - everything I got done is really nothing, because my brain is swimming together like a puddle of consciousness whispering 'stoooooooooop, you are neglecting meeeee'. I have successfully ignored both sides of the brain; I have excercized no logic whatsoever and done nothing artistic since the moment I woke up.  I've just gone back and forth between computer and chore, computer and chore ... Pinterest, laundry. Again and again. It rocks, but I don't really feel anymore accomplished or happy at the end of the day.
I'm preparing mexican food. My mom cooked the meat, spiced it, and got out the tortillas, which we use sparinngly (we treasure our burritoes, since tortillas are incedibly hard to find in Africa). The rest of the work is for me. Tomatoes, onions, lettuce, cheese. I'm standing in the kitchen, getting lost once again in thought.


BAM!!!


I get hit by a wave of horrible music.


Coming from the livingroom. I stop shredding the cheese and cock my head. After a while of listening, I recognize the music. My mouth turns into a grin.


It's the da Silvas.


Aah, my old friends. The music is so sudden and silly, it's like they are here with me. This family lives in the United States, about the area where my family is from. We've been old friends with them. I met the two pretty sisters through ballet class (ages ago), then when my brother discovered all of their brothers, I guess our two families had to meet. So we've known each other for years. They've supported us through the move to Africa, the transitions, everything.


So they made a video for us. This was about three years ago, and all six crazy kids helped make it. I haven't watched that video for *phh*, I don't know how long.


And one of my siblings just put it in the DVD player. A wave of memories comes over me. I can't even see the screen from where I'm standing. It's just the horrible music SOMEONE was playing during recording. I start laughing.

The foggy feeling that I've experienced through the whole day is dispersing. For a few minutes, I remember the goofy person I was at the age of twelve, the crazy dreams I shared with my friends, and the inside jokes that will never wear out. The 'da Graham's as we were called.


All of this brings back a clear mind, a happy face, and a little more energy.


If I may say so, a lot of missionaries (new or not), struggle emotionally if they are unable to bring their own world - the American culture, comforts they grew up with, old friends - into contact with the culture they are presently living in.


This could mean living so deeply in the present that one forgets where they  have come from. Or maybe the people from their first culture simply cannot understand the trials or experiences of the new culture they are living in. Some, during the first few months, shut out the newer culture to dwell on the past (*aghem* made much easier through facebook). All of these prevent transitioning or comfort in the lives of missionaries.


I guess this is a way overdue thank you to my old friends. :) Their rediculous jokes, acting, and music-playing brought a new light to my day. This is also an encouragement to any readers with missionary friends. It might seem like no big deal to write a letter, send a little gift, type up an email or tag them in some silly old picture. But those things matter, and simply asking the question, 'how is the ministry going?' can bring a new life to their ministry that nothing else could.


If you ever choose to make a twenty-minute movie about the missionary family you miss, go all out. For all you know, three years later, you'll bring some laughter into their long, weary day.