The El

(I wasn't planning on blogging again - especially since I am sure people are done checking this. But I found this poem I wrote in Chicago the first time and since it's the last poem I've written, I wanted to post it on here since it was very much a part of my experience. so with no apologies...) 


The El


In monotone, I heard a red line man declare he was Jesus, the son of God
Or at least the next president of the United States, since we all know Obama is too young.

Today, Jesus wears a red trucker hat, thick glasses and two necklaces: one from a hospital in the arctic north and the other? The dollar store down the street on Broadway. 

Adjacent from me, a man catches my eye. Moments that were created on accident; apologetically. He hurriedly looks away but not before he tries to suppress a silent smirk. 

The haze of the evening sun smears itself on the thick windows of the train, mellowing the rush of the tracks and smelly stories all felt in a tiny, moving space. Deeper, together, we move into the earth.  

This is Jackson. The doors open on the left at Jackson. 

Jesus stays on the train as I entered into the underground mixed with heat and florescent lighting. I take the stairs, leading beyond me. 

Later, after the clash of the city and a yellowed darkness, I find myself here again where quiet people wait in tired silence while a right-handed man plays a left-handed guitar.  

I can't get no satisfaction. 

His lyrics bounce off the concert walls, floor, and faces until the rush of the el, clattering down the tunnel eventually moves the moment away from me, like twilight slipping though my fingers 

Doors closing.

Ebenezer

I am starting to collect stones. I only have two thus far so I don't really know if can use the word "collecting" properly here but still. I came home to a rock sitting on my closet shelf and one in the pocket of my bag. That seems to qualify as a "collection" to me.

The first rock I found myself after I convinced Dréa to put on her rain boots and romp the banks of Riley Creek with at Bluffton University in the spring of 2009. I needed them for a little friend devotional time we were having/a Sunday Evening Worship that I was speaking at. I stood up on the bridge and pointed as brave Dréa brought up the rocks I thought would work for an "Ebenezer." I found my rocks that my friends eventually wrote all over as part of remembering what God has done for us over the course of our final year at Bluffton. On the big one we used to Sunday Evening Worship, I wrote "Thus far the Lord has helped us" from that chapter in numbers where Moses sets up an Ebenezer as a reminder of how God helped the Israelites to bring them to where they were at day. I liked that a lot and after having a pretty rough time at Bluffton (on and off) and getting to the place where I could barely think of leaving, I thought it was fitting to set up our own. I am not sure what happened to those two stones, covered in different colors of Sharpies, maybe they ended up back in the Riley, which would maybe be fitting, but by the end of the year I still had a leftover, unused stone that Dréa had brought out of the creek. So as I was packing up my things one final time at Bluffton, I took the rock with me. When I got home, I wrote "Bluffton 09" on it and that verse, in a way to remember everything and everyone that God had blessed me with and by at Bluffton University. A pillar, so I wouldn't forget that my story is far from over.

That rock greeted me as I unpacked my suitcase over a year later, sitting on very visible place on my shelf.

The second rock came a few days before I found myself unpacking in my room in Asheville, North Carolina. We were still in Chicago, resting gently in the week that "buffer" our experience in our service locations and our "normal, everyday lives." And of course, I was struggling. Emotionally, I was all over place for several reason, but one of them was mourning the fact that my time in Chicago would be sort, that the days being a community of people who were in the exact same place I was were numbered – that I only had a limited amount of space before I was pushed back into a world, of saying hello and goodbye to my best friend in a short 12 hour period, the world of my grandpa's funeral, and the world of living with my parents again unsure of how to be a responsible adult when looking for a job that I might be interested seems to be impossible. And then Darrell gave us each an Ebenezer stone. They weren't river rocks this time, but colorful, polished rocks that would easily fit in your pockets.

My second Ebenezer is green and now sits near my Bluffton rock as a constant reminder to myself that "thus far the Lord has helped me."

On a very real level, I don't feel as if I have time to breath yet. So many things have happened since I've gotten back (and will continue to happen for awhile), that I haven't made real time to be or to try and sort out anything from this last year in Pietermaritzburg. But God has helped me thus far, and it would be utter nonsense if I believe this is the end of the journey. My story is far from over. And I will be dealing with this experience far after I stop posting things to this blog.

But in the meanwhile, (and after all this frantic traveling is over) I am going to pull up a chair and give time for my soul to catch up with me. I might use this blog as a way to try and figure out what that means, but if I don't, I will sign off now. Thank you to everyone who has helped me these past 10 months by reading my blog and carrying my burdens with me, laughing with me, and walking with me. I look back on this experience, and even though I am still not sure what I think about a lot of things, I do know that thus far the Lord has helped me and that God will continue to do just that for the rest of my life.

The journey home

These final two blogs are a long time in coming but I wanted to properly close off my Radical Journey blog despite the fact that it has been over 15 days or so that since I last touch African soil (or terminal cement).

The journey home was quite a long one and rather epic since everything that could've gone wrong seemed to, in fact, go that way, or so it felt at the time (and even now). Many of you know this story but for the sake of proper blog record keeping (mainly for my own sake since I don't think people are checking this blog anymore) I wanted to tell it one last time.

Our flight was supposed to leave the PMB airport around 8. So we got up early, packed up the rest of the manse and loaded into the LD's and Thandi's cars and headed to the airport. We were the biggest excitement that airport has seen in quite some time I am sure. When we were dealing with our first issue (the "overweight" luggage) there were about 5 guys behind the counter trying to help us. A little unnecessary. It was quite humorous, or would've been if we weren't all emotional and tried and trying to figure out how to get on to the little plane. What happen was that apparently since we didn't have our international tickets yet, and thus we had "no proof" that we were flying internationally and not domestic. Our luggage weight for the international trips were fine, but the domestic weight is lower. So we had to pay. About $150 (over R1000). Crazy.

I knew that when the PMB to Jo'Burg flight attendant put a breakfast box on my fold out tray that read "Beef" that this was going to be a hectic day... or three days… "Beef" is also a bad omen at 8 o'clock in the morning.

The second hiccup came in Jo'Burg. We were leaving the country with everyone. Seriously. Well, that's how it felt and I don't think that I am too far off since it was THE day after the World Cup was over. While we were trying to check into our flight, we met our first challenge. We had no idea where our line ended. Crawling around people with carts full of luggage, we finally decided to join one we thought might be the one. It was wasn't. After not moving for about 15 minutes, I finally jumped out of the line and found that our line was in fact not the one we were standing in. Our line was actually not that hectic and a lot shorter now that our flight left in about an hour. I will say that even though we should've tried to sort this mess out sooner that we weren't the last ones in line. And we were literally next in line when they told us. They overbooked. What? Someone from Kenya airlines sent us (well Kyle) to another 2 hour line to try and figure out what the heck to do now. In the meanwhile, the rest of us sat on the floor and watched as a man (who didn't make the flight) at the ticket counter cursed out the staff. Fun. We eventually got another flight – leaving at 12:45am. So we killed over 12 hours in Jo'Burg. Again. We actually spent a lot of time in the domestic side of the airport since the food is cheaper there and it was less packed. So a few hours later we found ourselves on the floor, not far away from the benches were we slept our first night in South Africa. It was an ironic full circle.

We had learned our lesson the first time. There was no way we were going to miss our flight this time. So we got in line early, which was a good thing to because after everyone's bags were wrapped in plastic the counter woman sorted out all our tickets since the Kenya desk still missed important things that could've complicated things along the way. She was a champ for sure and she made our trip smoother. I hate to think that things could've gotten worse along the way. After an hour of processing our stuff, we were cleared to go. So we uneasily bid farewell to our luggage which looked like it was ready for some type of white trash Christmas and border the plane. (Kyle and I actually said at this point that we weren't sure if we would ever see that luggage again… which is partly true).

On the plane from Jo'burg to Nairobi, I had my real first taste of culture shock. Europeans (who were mostly Netherlands fans returning home from the games) are a lot "colder" than South Africans. For example, I was trying to get my carry-on loaded onto the overhead bin and it was practically falling on my head. The guy behind me, instead of being a gentlemen, was clearly annoyed that I was taking so long to get out of the way. Haibo. Compared to the awesome South African lady who helped us finalize all our tickets, this guy was a real tool.

This is the third problem, although we didn't realize it at the time. We got to Nairobi at some unknown hour and had to immediately get in line for our next flight. Little did we know that the air vouchers that we were given in Jo'Burg to redeem our wasted, overbooked tickets, could only be taken care of in Kenya. We had no idea but we also had no time. So we got on the plane and left

Next came Amsterdam our fourth problem, well I guess maybe 3.5 because this relates to that last one. After we got off, we had to search the airport for a KLM desk that had our prearranged hotel reservations. It took us (mainly Kyle again) a super long time to figure that out. Since we all had this hate relationship with Kenya airlines we were all really nervous that we weren't going to get our rooms in Amsterdam. And after two days of traveling and of being exhausted, that would've been the worst thing ever especially since our plane didn't leave until 11am the next day (Our flight got there at 4pm). But things worked out and we actually got to stay in a nice hotel with meals included. However, before we left we were literally sent in a circle forever as we tried to find a KLM desk that could help us with these vouchers from Kenya air (who didn't pick up their phones). Ugh. So eventually we said "forget it" and went to the hotel. (Thus I now have an Amsterdam stamp in my passport although we only saw the fields by the hotel, which is still sweet. But strangely enough, I was on the only one my team who didn't get an "exit stamp." Seriously. We all went to the same guy at passport control and he stamped all theirs. But when he got to mine all he did was flip through my book, see my Israel stamps and said "Shalom" and gave my book back to me. No stamp. According to my passport, I am still there…. But also here. What?)

And then came the last bump in the this "road" of traveling home. Our flight and everything went wonderfully (we were on a huge KLM flight and it was so nice especially compared to other planes we had been on) and when we got to O'Hare Airport only Gabby's nicely still-wrapped luggage came down the shoot at baggage claim. It would all eventually sprinkle in over the next few days, showing up at JPUSA, and I am so grateful for that, but at the time. It seemed like the worst thing ever.

So by the time we arrived at the guest flat on Wilson Ave, we were all spent, and generally disappointed about everything that had happened. It's been a few weeks since those three traveling days and looking back, all I can say is, I am so glad that is over…

All the small things

I am currently blogging from thousands of feet above Canada and the very last leg of our journey. After three days of traveling, all I can say is that I am so ready to have my feet back on the ground (but that's a long story). Anyway, in my last South African blog I wrote about the fact that I know that I will missing things about South Africa life, but I just needed more time to think of exactly what those things are. Obviously I cannot list them all in one blog – after all I was there for 10 months. I have lived in PMB longer than I have lived in Asheville NC, but here is a list of some of the small things I wil miss…

I will miss the World Cup and watching soccer matches with Christian for countless evenings

I will miss the "prochoiceasuarous" that hangs above the manse's door and making "raptor noises" with Kyle

I will miss Christian calling me yoghurt and trying to do Congolese dances with him.

I will miss singing Zulu songs, even though I never really knew the words or even if I did, how to pronounce them or what they meant

I will miss cooking curry in the kitchen with Nicole (and that time when Shaun helped me make the thinnest, but best, roti's ever)

I will miss Sheldon and Shaun's constant laughter, Yonela's poems, Abie's "gangsta superstar" persona, posing for GQ    with Brylon, calling Chad "JT", watching Ntuthuko dance while he played the piano, the way Robbie plows into your shoulder when he greets you, and how much Nicole loves her cat.

I will miss cheap movies on Tuesdays.

I will most definitely miss the cheap, cheap, Indian food place by Pick n' Pay.

I will miss the fact that we went to Pick n' pay so often that we were came to recognize a lot of the employees.

I will miss all the fresh fruit and the fact that we had a lemon tree in our yard

I will miss the hills of Pietermaritzburg and the blue of the Indian Ocean

I will miss hanging out at Essence Café with Gabby and almost being a "regular" there

I will miss all the crazy things we did in the small youth office where Tim, Connie, Kyle and I had to work most of the time.

I will miss calling the traffic lights "robots."

I will miss this instant "Ricoff" coffee stuff that still remains to a mystery to me but makes fabulous iced coffee

I will miss the way Thandi teased us all the time

I will miss my Congolese English students

I will miss going up to Hilton and always "bringing the clouds with us."

I will miss crocheting with Karen

I will miss all the beautiful, flowering trees

I will miss the warmth of the South African people (nothing has made me notice this more than being stuck on a plane with cold Europeans for hours)

I will miss BCI's art ministry

Yeah, I will miss all these small things about South African life. Well, this isn't all of them of course but there are just some of the small things that I will carry with me home…

The Last Hours

I don't really have a whole lot to say right now – on this eve of the end of all things South African (and World Cup). It's a strange feeling. Mostly I just want to blog because this is my 100^th blog… and even though I am sure I will blog at least once in Chicago, I wanted to leave my 100^th blog here in PMB.

There is a strange silence in the manse. And by that I don't mean that there is actual, literal silence in this house. After all there are a few people in the lounge and if I was close enough to the shared wall, I am sure that I would hear Martine's kids running about. Instead, I mean that type of silence that is heavy with sadness that seems to settle on to the empty spaces that come with moving. I felt it in IL, I felt it at Bluffton, and now it is here. Feel it – we are going.

My stuff is generally all packed except the stuff that I need tonight and tomorrow morning – so now it's all about waiting. I am currently waiting for everyone to head over to watch the pre-finale of the World Cup so I can quickly mop the floors. I am waiting for tonight so I can finish saying goodbye to people – (even though we are also saying goodbye to a bunch of people at the airport). I am waiting. It's been really nice that we've had this week off of work so we can connect with people and clean and pack and all that. However, this has been like one prolonged goodbye and it really sucks. I was telling someone at church that I could just line everyone up and give everyone a hug all at once. But I guess that's never how it goes.

I feel like I am waiting for a lot of things – although I am not exactly sure what. It's hard to get away from this sadness I guess. I am super excited to go home and see everyone- but then what? Oh my word I have no plan for what I am going to do after I finish traveling around to see everyone. After that… oh man. I guess I am passed the point of the security that comes with being a student and knowing that school comes next. Even with Radical Journey – VS is a pretty typical "Mennonite" thing to do after college. And now the thing to do is get a job. And be an adult. And pay off that tower of debt that I owe Sally Mae.

Okay, I feel as if this blog no longer has a main point so I guess that it is time for this to end. I should be creative and cute and end this with like a top 10 list of things that I will miss – but at this point I think that I will just wait until Chicago and then I will find out what I miss the most.

Okay people, see you in Chicago.

Goodbye South Africa!

The LDs

This is my official shout out to Phil and Christine Lindell-Detweiler.

As many of you know, Phil and Christine have been with us since day one – and I don't necessarily mean that literally (although they were since Christine was one of the ones who picked us up from the PMB airport that fateful day 10 months ago). Here with Mennonite Mission Network, the LDs have been part of our RJ program by taking us under their wings, guiding, mentoring us, and generally just being our friends.

I've come to really love and cherish this dear family since being here. I can honestly say that without their guidance, I am not sure if I would have been able to stick this thing out. We had the privilege of hanging out with them this past weekend up by St. Lucia – chilling at the beach, roaming the game park with the ballade, picnicking among the zebras and impala, and hanging out in front of the World Cup matches on TV back at the backpackers place. Before we headed out that Monday morning after all the weekend adventures, we had a debriefing session with them to "wrap this whole thing up." Towards the end of our conversation, Phil mentioned of how whenever you are around someone long enough you cannot help but feel the loss when they are gone. That is definitely true for me. Phil and Christine have made a huge impact on my life – their willingness to serve, to confront conflict, to deal with tough faith issues in a cross-cultural setting, and their authentic love of people are some things that I will carry away with me. I am definitely going miss them – eating breakfast at their house, laughing at the huge quantities of fruit that Phil always buys, drinking lots of cups of coffee with Christine in cute coffee spots, co-teaching English, and trying to convince Phil to whistle and dance at the same time. Okay those are just some things (some of which are quite silly – except for the whistling and dancing thing – that is quite serious), but it is often the small, little details of people's lives that stay with us the most.

So if you are reading this LDs, please know how much of a blessing you have been to me and to the rest of the team. Y'all are awesome. I am definitely going to miss you.

Moving...

I was so super ready to go home that I forgot how much I hate packing - that is, until this afternoon. Oh my word, I HATE PACKING!

During these times I am always reminded of my sister. Whenever Leah had to pack for anything she would spend hours with her clothes all over her bed complaining about how much it sucked. I can hardly blame her. Even packing for little trips is dumb. But when it's big stuff - like trying to fit my 10 month South African life back into my bag (praying the whole time that it's light enough not to get charged extra at the airport) - boy do I feel like Leah, screaming in my room that this is the worst thing.

It is the worst. Here is why.

1. It takes forever so it always requires me to pack before the actual day of departure. This then undoubtedly means that I packed something I am going to need in the next few days. So I am sure I am going to unpack and repack several times before this whole thing is over.

2. I always think I have way less stuff then I actually do. When my suitcase starts to look rather full, I always realize how much more I have left to put into it. yikes...Then I just feel materialistic. I think I am leaving a lot here but I am really not. All the stuff I bought/gifts for people cancels out what I am leaving.

3. With packing comes cleaning. Now, I don't mind cleaning but it stresses me out when I have to do both.

4. Okay, this is the larger issue here. Packing means moving. and moving just brings up weird feelings in myself. It reminds me of leaving Eureka, IL and that horrible moment when I cried in the rain before leaving 202 Elm Cir for the last time. It reminds me of moving out of Bluffton last year and how after all my stuff was packed up in Mom and Dad's van, how I just sat on the sidewalk outside of Hirschy Hall and cried. Although, I generally am ready for the next non-manse time of my life, it is sad leaving because goodbyes are always sad and very strange. For example, last night we had to say goodbye to Robbie, Daniel, and Ntuthuko (some of the guys in the youth) and it's really strange to think that I am probably never going to see them ever again. Even though I am really ready to go home, this whole process just underline this current theme of my life - letting go. I am tried of having to constantly be saying goodbye to people. I am really ready to be around people again that I love and not have to start from scratch yet again (although the latter is eventually coming...). This makes my heart hurt.