Conversation with an Amusement Park Ride Operator

If you've ever spent time in Africa, the following conversation may sound familiar.

Cast:       Pete, a visitor to Gaborone's premier amusement park
               Mr. Ride Operator
               Three or four enthusiastic children
Setting:    An otherwise deserted ride


Pete:           Hello there! May we ride for a long time, seeing as how no one else is waiting in line?
Operator:    Yes.
Pete:           Great. Here we go. . .wheee!
after thirty seconds, the ride comes to a stop
Pete:           Wow, that was fun! Um, may we please go for another ride?
Operator:    Yes.
Pete:           Great, and this time if you wouldn't mind we'd like to go for a long time. Here we go. . . wheee!
after thirty seconds, the ride comes to a stop
Pete:           Ummmm. . .
Operator:    Now you must get off of the ride.
Kids:           But we want to keep riding! There is no one in line!
Operator:    No, you must leave the ride. Come back in ten minutes.

I looked back at our friendly operator as we walked to the pool, and he was just sitting at the controls, waiting for his next customers.  I wouldn't paint with such a broad brush as to say it's universal, but after a bit of time here you do start to notice a certain tendency toward rigidity in the minds of some people here. I chalk much of it up to the education system: rote memorization is the overwhelming standard, with little emphasis upon creativity or innovation.

Holiday Ramblings

Ah, the cognitive and emotional dissonance of celebrating the holidays overseas! What is one to think whilst, nearly antipodal to one's kin, he is assaulted by the juxtaposition of summer hallmarks and winter celebrations? I needed a towel this year to mop off the sweat generated while decorating the Christmas tree. . . if that's what one can call the spray painted branches adorned with ornaments that currently stands sentinel in our family room. A thunderstorm and the neighbor's techno music interrupted our singing of "Silent Night." We cut out paper snowflakes with the air conditioner set to max.

Amidst all the features of another caddywompus overseas Thanksgiving and Christmas, there is a real joy here that is difficult to relate to those who haven't yet experienced this life. Friends become family-like in the common absence of real family. Old traditions bend, but don't break. And once in awhile there is profundity in discovering that people half a world away, while completely different, are really just the same. I'm really looking forward to celebrating Jesus' birth with our Batswana brothers and sisters.

engage!

While I was excited to fly airplanes again here in Africa, I think what really had me spooled up was the prospect of getting involved in ministry - developing friendships, learning the culture, seeking to clearly communicate my own experience of God's grace and mercy to the people around me.  Based on past experience, I thought the best place to start here would be to develop a friendship with someone involved in spiritual leadership.  I've found that man.  His name is Emanuel, and I wish everyone I know could meet him - funny, winsome, articulate, and equipped with a plus-sized heart.  In addition to pastoring a church in an outlying village, he works for Flying Mission, managing a number of outreach programs that we are involved in as an organization.

The past couple of months he and I have been meeting, and I have been accompanying him on a number of the projects with which he's involved, with an eye toward discerning where best I can come alongside.  Please pray for me as I become more engaged on this front.

Shelley writes

It’s certainly not what I expected - filling my days with work, work, work.  And some days I do feel sorry for myself.  This job really is a life-sucker sometimes.  I work 8 or 9 hours a day.  I work on Saturdays, I work in the evenings, I get up early every day.  Every day there is something new to be depressed about – I have to do conferences this week, I have to advise a tournament on Saturday, I have to stay late . .  . again.  But thankfully Pete’s job keeps everything in perspective for me.  It’s easy to feel sorry for myself until I hear about people who are 90% burned, their skin too charred to even give them morphine.  Or about another baby who died of a respiratory problem.   

And I do have so much to be thankful for.  I’m living in the continent where my heart is. I feel at home in Africa.  Of course, I love the sun.  I love that our neighborhood is filled with roosters, goats, packs of dogs, loud hip-hop music, and the beautiful sound of children playing.  I love that Caleb and Malena can go outside our gate and play with the neighborhood kids, buy ice lollies from the tuck shop right around the corner, walk the dogs all by themselves.   

And I’m extremely thankful to be at the same school as my kids.  They are getting a fantastic experience and I get to share that with them.  What a blessing! Caleb and Malena are learning to speak Setswana.  They get to take a real art class and a real music class.  Caleb regularly gets to play the drums at assembly.  Malena gets to take swimming at school, they only have 15 kids in their class and the students are from all around the world.  We recently had an assembly at our school to celebrate Independence day for Botswana and the local chief came and gave a speech.  Caleb’s class did traditional dancing and there was so much Botswana culture emanating from the auditorium - it was truly moving.  I felt truly blessed to be in Botswana and I want to give a big shout out to God for giving us this amazing experience, and even though I will be working late today, I am truly thankful . . . . . . .

A Tough Week

This is what I came here to do.  That doesn't make it any easier.

On Monday, we flew to the town of Kasane in the middle of the night to pick up two victims of a car crash - one with a broken femur, the other with both head and internal injuries.

On Thursday, news came that five men had been terribly burned out in the Kalahari desert, near the town of Hukuntsi, after they'd been trapped between converging bush fires.  During this season, we often see these lines of fire, sometimes extending for miles, while flying at night - eerily beautiful dull orange slashes through the bush.  Never had I imagined the nightmares they could produce.  We launched from Gaborone into the ominous dark sky, timing our departure so that we would touch down on the unlit, unpaved airstrip precisely at sunrise.  Out of the ambulance came a horror of charred flesh, second and third degree burns covering more than three quarters of their bodies.  We did our best to put down the incongruous mixture of revulsion and compassion that we felt upon the sight of these poor men, and to concentrate on our jobs - getting them back to medical care in Gaborone.  The last news I heard was that they were being cared for at the new private hospital here in town.  Two had died; three were still hanging on to life.

On Friday, it was up to Kasane again to pick up the German victim of an elephant attack.

How does that old Peace Corp recruiting line go?  Something like "the toughest job you'll  ever love."  I can't come up with a better description of my work here in Botswana.