My Life as an African Gypsy

There is just something about having pictures on the fridge that makes a place feel like home. Am I right?

Well, thanks Mom for the magnet photo holders you gave me a year ago! I loved them in Arizona, and I knew they were an item I should consider priority for my bags coming over. Turns out they made the cut... or better said the cuts.

And now they have done their job. It feels much more "homey" in the kitchen.

There is something about the night that can change the appearance of a city. The once dingy dirty city can suddenly appear beautiful and mysterious. The music playing from inside homes makes the town feel exotic and foreign.


But then you get close.

The sidewalks are alive, not only with drunk men wobbling back and forth, but with what seems like hundreds of cockroaches and handfuls of rats that carry their recent catches in their mouths.

Walking from our vehicle to the inside of our apartment building is one that requires courage and a strong heart. You must be aware of all movement. The cockroaches, I believe, are just waiting to pounce. I see them scurrying all over, and then there will be the one, the one that sits and looks at you intensely on the ledge. His stare never wavers.

My husband asked me if cockroaches jump. I am not sure if they jump, but I know they can fly, and I am quite sure that they would just love to fly into my hair and torture me.

Sometimes I am walking behind my husband, who does not seems to have the same phobia as I do, and I tell him firmly, "Hurry!" And I am not joking. If he doesn't move, I may possibly knock him over onto that ground teeming with the hideous creatures!

The strange thing is that they do not seem to come inside. I have yet to see any inside of a building. Now by all means I am not complaining. I am not sure how I would do if they resided in my house... the Lord and I would have some conversations, and we may have to reevaluate our location. Just kidding... sort of. ;)

Instead I can watch the life on the sidewalks from my balcony. I play a little game and see if I can see the first rat running in the yard, or I will attempt to count the cockroaches running on the ground. They are so fast I have a difficult time keeping them apart.

I guess it is a little exotic.

Here we go...

• Fruits and veggies
• Fresh flowers. Beautiful ones!
• Cashews
• Newspapers
  
• Artificial Christmas trees (probably only during December)
• Purses, dresses, and p.j. pants made out of the most colorful African fabrics
• Wood carvings (My personal favorite: A hippo standing, wearing a suit, glasses, and smoking a pipe. I want one. Everytime I see it it makes me giggle.)
• Shoes. They love shoes here. On the sidewalk there will be piles of shoes for sale. How you ever find the pair, I don't know.
• Maps of Mozambique. Large detailed ones on wooden dowels.
• DVDs
• Jewelry
• Plug adapters. Much needed here. Ex: A picture of how I charge my computer.

• Beautiful paintings on cloths like the following picture. (I plan to buy a few before moving to Angola. I love them!)

That's all I can think of for now. I mentally "drove" down the street. If I see anything else fun, I'll let ya know.

During our visit to the Oncology ward last week, Jon and I agreed that we would like to spend part of our Christmas day at the hospital with the patients unable to make the journey home. The Oncology department here in Maputo is the only one in all of Mozambique, so many of the patients have come a long way and family is quite far.

I can relate; I am a long way from home and my family is quite far.

Because we are new to the area and currently do not have any children, we did not have many plans for the day. We went ahead and promised our new friends a visit.

After sleeping in and eating some scrumptious homemade cinnamon rolls (a tradition I keep), we headed up to the hospital.

A man we have grown to love, Tony, saw our car pull up and came out into the parking lot to greet us enthusiastically. Precious.

During the past few weeks we have been working mainly with the children there. Jon has also had the opportunity to get to know some of the guys, who are fun loving and eager to chat, but it has been a little difficult for me to connect with the mothers of the children. They are friends with one another and not sick, so not in terrible need of conversation. I felt like I was trying to gain respect with their click.

I have not arrived and have not given up, but I had another opportunity today... I was able to spend a good amount of time with the women in the ward, who have cancer and are going through treatment. I had such precious conversations, and felt so welcomed and loved.

I kept telling them, "I do not have family here; they are in America, but today, you are my family." They assured me that I was not alone.

What a good Christmas spent with dear new family.

(Christmas morning with yummy cinnamon roll with cinnamon cream cheese icing.)

The way one thinks when becoming a missionary changes.

Of course, right?

In this blog I am going to share a story about money, just because I like to be honest, and I like you to know what goes on in the head of a missionary.

You see, I started working out recently. Again. I am trying to get a jump start on the new year. I wanted to look for some hand weights that I could use with my video, so while we were at a large store "Game" I peeked to see the price. Most everything is more expensive here than in the States, so I knew to approach hesitantly.

18 dollars. For one 5 pound hand weight.

I need two.

Couldn't do it.

It is not so much that we don't have the money, because we do. We do because we have amazing supporters who love us and share our heart for Africa.

I am not even saying that I won't ever pay it. Maybe at some point I will decide it is worth it. First I will check in South Africa and make sure I cannot get them cheaper, but I may pay $36 for weights to help stay healthy.

But not right now.

It is different living on support. We live on comfortable budget. We do not live a deprived life by any means. I just want to be sure to honor the people who believe in us, the ones who give to see that the people of Mozambique, of Angola, are loved.

You see?

So when I make a purchase, I think twice.

That's all.

It is not a bad thing. It is just how it is, living on support.

As much as I love my two foot Christmas tree, and I do love it, it is not quite enough to bring the warm fuzzies I am used to during this time of year.

I have played much Christmas music around here, drank solely out of my red Starbucks cups, put on my red and green outfits, painted my toes red, gone to some parties, sang carols, watched 'Elf'...

Sigh.

It is just the whole waking up to 95 degree heat just kills it. Ya know?

In our apartment the sun comes up and straight into the living room, which means the minute I walk out of my room, I am hot. And grumpy.

I worked out this morning to a cardio video, and afterward I could not cool down for the life of me. I ended up taking a cool shower, but still came out with a face looking like a tomato.

Then this afternoon I was out on our balcony folding clothes (because we line dry everything, which is a story for another blog) and I thought I was going die. It was so very very hot.

Okay, okay, I am exaggerating a bit there. I wasn't going to die, but sweat was dripping from bizarre places. Only in Africa have I learned the feeling of sweat coming out the pores on my calves. Not nice.

To top things off, in all of our attempts at making Christmas like home, we missionaries bake for all the parties. The problem with this is that it means we have to turn the oven on, and that makes it even hotter.

I won't give up though.

This is my Christmas, and my first in Africa. We will have to learn to make new traditions, and somehow incorporate the things we deem most important from home... even if it means being a little extra hot.

Praise the Lord, this woman has a kitchen.

There is something about cooking, baking, and cleaning that makes me feel like a wife... like a woman. Now I realize this isn't true for everyone, but for me it is. (Those who know me, know my love for baking and such.)


I have been in limbo without my "own" kitchen for almost 6 months! And it has been rough.

This week we moved into a semi-permanent apartment. What I mean by that is that we are staying for 2-3 months in a missionary couple's apartment, who are on furlough.

And I have a kitchen.

For now...

And I am going to town!

Apple strudel muffins, baked chicken, pan seared green beans, mashed potatoes, tacos, apple crumble, and on and on... Christmas morning = homemade cinnamon rolls!

I also am enjoying the dishes! Who would think? I think that one will wear off though. =)