My Life as an African Gypsy

There were a few things that irritated me, but nothing really to justify the particular foul mood. Honestly, it had been an enjoyable morning; I made super yummy muffins, and finally I was not feeling as sick. But somewhere in there I just got "off".

How does that happen?

Don't you know what I mean? Has it happened to you? Suddenly you are just irked.

This afternoon we were going back to the hospital to volunteer with the children in the oncology ward. I was tired and not really wanting to apply my mind to Portuguese, so to be completely transparent, I was not looking forward to my time there.

Ever been there? On your way to ministry... dragging your heavy feet?

We drove up, and as we were parking I saw them. The children. They were sitting there on their stools at the white plastic table. My mood started to shift.

I hopped out of the car and waved. Big smiles and small arms flying around. Okay, their cute.

We sat down, and they welcomed us with such love. Being patient with our Portuguese, they decided to teach us a song. Jon learned better than me; I was distracted. I had a little girl sitting there in my lap. Across from me two precious boys were laughing and giggling as they showed me their belly buttons. And then one leaned in for a "beijo" or a "kiss". Then the other. My heart was full.

There is something about serving people, something about loving people, something about giving to people... even if it has to be a deliberate scheduled choice. Your heart will catch up, I promise.

One day after arrival here in Maputo, Mozambique our friends took us to a nice little coffee shop with an outside patio and home roasted coffee beans. While driving there they said, "This place has bagels!" (Bagels are a rare commodity in Africa) Jon and I had already eaten that morning so we passed on the temptation, and only sipped some coffee... okay and I took some bites of a chocolate chip cookie, but I intended not to eat.

This Saturday morning though, I awoke with an urge to get out sip some coffee and eat this famous bagel. Because of being sick, I haven't gotten out too much, but I didn't care, I'd go sick and all! I searched online and found how to get there, and off we went to Cafe Sol (http://cafesolmozambique.com/).

My hubby and I enjoyed some conversation, some yummy coffee, and some oh so good bagels with lovely cream cheese. Boy were they good. I think it may be my special treat from time to time. Nevermind, I lied... they were cheap, so I think I will want to go once a week. Ha!

Hello toilet, let's be friends.

One thing as a missionary, you become used to tummy problems. The usual uncomfortable word "diarrhea" is said without missing a beat... "Oh, and you have diarrhea?" (along with the sympathetic nod)

Mozambique did not want to disappoint, so upon being here for only two days I already have gotten something, and I say "something" without really wanting to know what that creepy little something is. What I do know is that my body is not a fan, and is trying it's darnedest to eliminate it.

This elimination process has been quite uncomfortable and accompanied by some not so usual (for me) intense sharp pains. Boo!

I have attempted to keep moaning to a minimum, seeing as the bathroom has a large open window up top, over looking the lovely garden where people like to gather some quiet time. I would hate to interrupt. (Ha!)

Thankfully, our previous 'Around the World' trip introduced this terribly intimate occasion to our marriage, and my husband has seen the worst of it. That bout of illness was far worse than this, requiring constant supervision to prevent fainting or falling from weariness... hideous right? Yeah... needless to say, my self-consciousness about this area was forced out the window early on, and my husband is an awesome caretaker. Ah! Reminds me of a quick story. (bear with me)

While in Angola last year, I had this "bout" I spoke of earlier. At one point
I had either just vomited or used the toilet, when my husband walked in
to check on me. In my delirious state, when he walked in I heard him say,
"Oh God that stinks!" My newly married self thought, "Well gee, as if I
didn't know that." Humiliated. After recounting the story later, I realized
I had heard wrong. Though I cannot remember the exact words, he had
definitely not said that and indeed said something filled with much more
sympathy.

Anyways, this is a very real part of missions and my life in Africa so I thought I'd share. Hopefully you found some humor in my misery, you awful people, you.

I had some reservations about our journey to Mozamibque...

Last night Jon and I spent the night in Pretoria, South Africa. On our way into town, we stopped at a mall because we were needing to buy some cell phones, and South Africa tends to be cheaper than other southern African countries. Unfortunately, South Africa currently has some pretty strict rules on selling phone and SIM cards. You have to have a passport and proof of residency along with a couple of other things.

We weren't too worried, since Jon has his Botswana residency permit. The funny thing was, once we got to the store, a residency permit does not qualify as proof of residency.

A young man overheard our dilemma, and said, "What if I bought the phone?"

The sales woman wasn't a fan.

He then looked at her and said, "I would like to buy another phone."

Jon pointed and said, "YES!"

The sales woman asked, "What if they commit a crime? It will be linked to your passport!"

He shrugged, "I'll go to jail." (We loved his trust and nonchalant-ness)

The sales woman caved, and off she went to get the phones.

While waiting, we chatted with the young man and his mom. Turns out they had been missionaries in Lebanon in the past and are Christians. How awesome that the Lord would bring us together. We proceeded to ask if they had a suggestion for a guest house, since we didn't know of any in the area. Happens they had friends who owned a guesthouse, but after calling it was full.

We urged them not to worry about us, but he went ahead and called the manager. They made room for us. Our new friends even offered to let us follow them there!

In the car I was worried what kind of place this might be that "made room for us", but may I tell you that is was quite the opposite of the images that flashed in my head. It was luxury! The bed was huge, the pillows perfect, the shower was amazing, and there was breakfast!

Off our friends went, friends that we may never see again, friends who showed us the love of Jesus, who did unto to us as they would do to Jesus...

Then to top things off, while checking out, the woman said that she knew we were missionaries, so she would discount the room for us.

At one point, I looked at my husband and said, "I think the Lord is going to take care of us."

Of course He will. He always has.


(The picture is a double rainbow we had the other day in Lobatse, Botswana

The other night we joined a home group Bible study in our friends’ house. It was a sweet time of new and old believers, Batswana, Zimbabwean, and American delving into the Scriptures and finding ways to implement them into our daily lives.

Remember, I said it was night.

And the lights were on, as we needed to see our Bibles.

This equals bugs.

No biggie. Moths are common and some June bugs aren’t too scary.

Unfortunately, just when it came time to read another portion of scripture, in flew a beetle... and not just any beetle, a BIG beetle. You could hear this thing from all the way across the room, and then it would hover right around head height. Now mind you, it wasn't just this white girl wiggin', all of us were. From time to time it would hit the ceiling so hard it would plummet in unknown directions.

The lady reading the Bible was persistent and kept plowing on, trying not to take part in the distraction.

The beetle won.

Attention was gone.

Finally, the man leading the Bible study stood up and with his bare hand he whacked the beetled, sending it spiraling downward to the floor. Stunned and nearly dead. Maybe the beetle didn't win after all.

Bible study commenced.

I asked my husband the other night, "Will we ever stay in one place?" His answer was, "We are gypsies!" I decided I don't want to be a gypsy forever. Or maybe even for long...

I think this whole living out of bags, being without a kitchen, sleeping in strange beds, etc. has begun to wear on me. I feel unsettled, and the honest problem is that I am not sure when we may "settle". This hasn't just been the case since we got to Africa, but since we left for Portugal... and even a bit since we have been married.

Yeah, yeah, I know the whole "the Lord is preparing you" and "He is shaping you" and all that jazz. I even believe it! But during this process, many times I am an emotional basket case. And the trouble with this is that my poor husband has to live with me!

I go from crying without reason to laughing and wanting to be playful. One moment everything irritates me and the next I want to snuggle. I asked him just last night, "Do you think I am crazy?" He just, "Just a tiny tiny can of crazy." I love him.

I think there is hope though. Someday I will have a place to call home... at least I keep telling myself this cannot go on forever. Right?

In the meantime, my hubby is getting practice for when I become pregnant. After all this, it will be a piece of cake for him.

Welcome back to Africa. Remember, Layne, things aren't quite on your time schedule.

Phew. This one is a toughy for me. I am extremely time conscious, and if I am given a time estimate, I expect it to be somewhat in range.

Nope. Not here. This is not new news to me, but it hasn't made it any easier thus far. =/

The other day we had an appointment to get our windows tinted for our vehicle. We purposely set an appointment the day before, so we'd only have to be in town a couple hours. Being in town without a vehicle and trying not to spend much money is difficult, AND we have done it about four or five times in the last two weeks.

8:30am appointment - check!

We asked how long it would take, and they said maybe two or two and a half hours. No prob. We'll grab coffee and check internet, and it shouldn't be too much longer.

Five and a half hours later, we sat on a couch in the business's reception area, watching as they did the back windows.

Then today we had to change the registration of our vehicle to our name. We arrived at the office at nine in the morning, and our ticket estimated a four hour and twenty minute wait. (Yes, I think they should open more than two counters too.) We decided to leave and come back. We came back, giving an hour grace period for cancellations and whatnot.

We missed our number. Not by many, but too bad. I tried to remain calm.

The new ticket estimated our new wait time to be at two hours and twenty-ish minutes. We ran home, grabbed our Kindles to read, and headed back. A little over three hours later, much sweat lost, and many chapters read, our registration was changed.

Get used to it, eh? I am thinkin' I am going to gain some patience... or high blood pressure. I think I'll go with the first.