Year: 2011

  • Sometimes, but not always…

    Sometimes, but not always, I think this might be too hard for me.

    There is a frustration growing in my belly so intense I think I might explode with it.

    It radiates, strengthens with each breath, and flutters around my insides like a caught bird.

    Sometimes, but not always, this world makes me want to scream.

    Loud.

    So I did, and nothing happened

    except a ripple of sourness from it touched every being in its path.

    This world is full of suffering

    corrupt, void of rules, hard, overwhelming, unjust and completely NOT MINE…

    and yet totally mine, intensely beautiful and intensely ugly all at once.

    One of my all time favorite women in the world

    (and second mother to my kids)

    left to return to South Africa today.

    I tried to keep busy after she left.

    I opened my computer to prepare the blog post of a life time.

    Beautiful images from the coffee hills.

    The first time I had been in the hills without a baby on my hip, thanks to her.

    I was met with technical difficulty after technical difficulty.

    It’s just not possible to share them right now.

    This might seem little, and it is, but it rides on the back of something huge.

    Feelings of frustration and aloneness.

    Don’t get me wrong,

    I am getting to know some beautiful souls here in Bujumbura.

    There are people here who have a strength I may never know.

    People with a vast faith in humanity and an amazing capacity for good.

    They are incredible specimens of humanness…

    and yet today,

    as Thobe left, I wanted to run after the car shouting

    “Take me with you!

    Take me home!”

    but there I stood, strangely and insanely rooted to this journey.

    Love,

    Kristy

  • Happy Weekend! Hope you make time to appreciate all the little things that make life great… like underwear.

    Love,

    Kristy

     

  • Oh man, I love you guys…

    … because there is NO WAY I could have left with our air freight today if you have not said at least one little prayer for my underwear. God provided a way, in a land where there are no systems worth trusting. More than EVER before I have faith in my God. He protects. Loves. Provides. I spent the morning at the airport with our 19 month old, Neo, and the most helpful Burundian ever, Fabrice. Somehow, and I did not believe my eyes when it happened, our air freight was loaded into the vehicle and we drove off… $300 and 4 hours later, after attempting 7 other times.

    Now the kids are happily playing in a pile of their toys. This whole experience has gotten me thinking though, about what we think we need and what we really do. Some of the things in the air frieght have just made me laugh. “Who packed this?’ I find myself saying. Oh, yeah… I did.

    Love,

    Kristy

     

  • When you pray…

    We have 15 pieces of luggage being held captive against it’s will, and ours, in the Burundian customs office. It arrived two weeks ago… 15 bins full of kids toys, pillows, saucepans and very regrettably most of my underwear (yeah, I know). Every week that it is in “storage” at the Burundi airport we have to pay roughly $200 US dollars. For storage we don’t want, because we want the stuff in our home!

    Just imagine if we had brought our great dane… she’d probably still be in storage for being “too heavy.” So, here’s the deal. Ben has spent about a bah-zillion intense and frustrating hours at the airport. Negotiating this. Negotiating that. Filling out that form. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Being told

    “No, it’s too heavy.”

    “Too heavy for what?” we say.

    “Just too heavy” they say.

    You get the picture.

    Tonight we were reminded of brave souls who have fought for so much more than some silly air freight. Our friends Brandon and Kristin, Richie and Natalie, Jeremy and Ash who have known what it is like to hope in the midst of the deepest anguish any parent can know. Their experiences and pain give us perspective. Stuff is just stuff. We will be ok, even without our underwear… but we sure would like it anyway.

    Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses allcomprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

    Praying for peace that makes no sense at all, and praying the same for our friends. Please join us if you would like, and if you throw in a prayer for my underwear while you are at it, I sure won’t stop you.

    Love,

    Kristy


  •  

    “One’s not half of two; two are halves of one.”
    E.E. Cummings

  • A China Crap Tricycle

    Neo just fell over on his new “crap-from-China-but-we-were-desperate” tricycle that he’s too small for. We’ve had it for about two hours and it’s already broken in two places. We got it at the one shop in town, T2000, that sells things straight off the boat from China. Even the sales staff are from China. What we paid for that tricycle is the exact amount we pay our (VERY well paid by Burundian standards) night guard, who patrols our yard at night to keep us safe. Seven nights a week. It seems wrong that he gets paid the same amount as a tricycle costs, even though we pay him much more than the going rate. Here in Burundi, labor is inexpensive but everything else seems to cost the world… even crap from China.

    Neo keeps hopping on his bike but he can’t reach the pedals. Not reaching the pedals doesn’t stop him at all. He’s been getting on and off and on again for about an hour. Standing in the basket at the back meant for carrying stuff, turning the wheels by hand, tipping over on the bike and just laying happily in the dirt with it, walking it around like a pet puppy, pushing the music buttons and dancing to the terrible “crap-from-China” music selections, breaking another part off. He loves it, and he can’t even ride it.

    Our kids have been without toys, living in a construction site for a house since we moved here at the end of June. We do have toys coming, in fact they are already in Bujumbura. In our air freight. Which the airport staff won’t release. “It’s too heavy” they say. “But it’s already here” we say. “It’s too heavy” they say again. “Alright then” we say. And so we wait… I guess until it becomes magically NOT too heavy.

    Have they suffered? Not from lack of toys, maybe from having two parents battling to cope. Parents worn out by the heat. Frazzled by their new culture. There are moments when I wish some legos would appear out of thin air, but for the most part they have only missed things to ride on or use for a project, like crayons and tricycles.

    Thobe (one of our most favourite-tist people in the world) just became our first visitor from our beloved South Africa, not counting the lovely Cooked team, who came as strangers but left as friends. She arrived with a suitcase full of parmesan cheese and crayons and ziplock bags and a big plastic pool and even an East African bird book. It was amazing watching all the things come out of that suitcase. Things we used to take for granted, but probably never ever will again.

    Oh, and the music button on the tricycle? Now it won’t turn off… lucky us!

    Happy weekend,

    Kristy

    p.s. You can see more of what the boys have been up to here.

  • Are You Drinking Ethically Sourced Coffee?

    This morning I am sipping a double espresso from Gatare, a washing station in the Kayanza district of Burundi that is producing amazing coffee. All this coffee sipping got me thinking about you. I starting thinking… What are YOU drinking?

    This as a sort of follow up to my What’s in Your Cup? thoughts. I know there is an extraordinarily large amount of people who care, really truly care, about buying ethically sourced coffee. They might care because they have social justice on their minds, or they have a heart for seeing impoverished people succeed, or they are on a year long quest to love the earth. Whatever the reason, we are here to give those who care a two thumbs up for their sensitive conscience.

    I like purchasing ethically sourced coffee.  For me, it’s a way of living out one of our family’s core values: The dignity and value of every person. So getting down to it, what should you buy?  Whats the difference between Fair Trade and Direct Trade? And who really cares?

    That’s too much for one coffee guy to dive into all at once.  So, I’ll give my two cents on “what coffee should you buy?”  I mean, I love you Barbara Kingsolover.  I’ll eat local for a life time, but… I won’t stop buying amazing coffee sourced from the other side of the planet.  I can’t justify cutting off a farmer’s only means of income because he lives in Costa Rica or Papua New Guinea or BURUNDI… especially if his coffee makes me weak in the knees.

    So, you are going to your local coffee shop to buy your coffee, but what should you buy? Here’s my list, in order of significance, of what I look for when buying roasted beans.

    1.  Freshly and expertly roasted. Roasting should have taken place no later than two weeks prior to the purchase date and the roasting date should be evident on the bag. Also, try before you buy. Often baristas will be more than happy to share a sample of their brew with you before you delve into a $15 purchase.

    2.  A unique coffee that matches the method of preparation you intend it for. Each coffee has a roast that will bring out it’s best characteristics depending on it’s use, ie: Chemex, espresso, French-press, etc.

    3. “Third hill from the left.”  The coffee you drink should be traceable. Get as close to the farmer as possible, see if you can get a detailed description of where the farmers are and what their community is like. This matters, plain and simply because people matter.

    4.  Ethically sourced and purchased coffee. Coffee that provides a livable and sustainable wage to each stakeholder along the coffee trail. The farmers. The workers at the washing station. The workers at the dry mill. The truck drivers. The exporters. The importers. The roasters. The coffee shop owners. The baristas. Without each one of these people along the coffee trail, good coffee does not exist.

    5.  Growers and buyers at origin who maintain a social and environmental conscience. People… like us.

    6.  Transparency in financial transactions stemming from your cup back to the tree. Ask your coffee shop how each dollar you spend on your coffee is divided amongst the coffee stakeholders listed in #4. They should tell you, really.

    I realize we can’t all do all of these things at once, but it’s about the effort. The effort to make a contribution towards building whole and healthy communities. You may think this contribution is a silent one, but it’s not. YOU dictate what businesses like your local coffee shop buy. I’ll bet if your coffee shop is not doing these things and you tell them that you want to drink this kind of coffee, you will plant a seed of change. Try it, and see what happens.

    If your local coffee shop is doing these things, give them a shout out in the comments section so other people can go thank them for a job well done.

    Coffee Guy

     

     

  • Dear Family,

    Hope is the belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one’s life.[1] It is the “feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best” or the act of “look[ing] forward to with desire and reasonable confidence” or “feel[ing] that something desired may happen”. [2] Other definitions are “to cherish a desire with anticipation”; “to desire with expectation of obtainment”; or “to expect with confidence”.[3]


     

    I believe in us. I believe beyond all hopelessness, and even though this transition is hard I “expect with confidence” that God is with us during every step.

     

     

    My coffee guy. Even though your brand new (to you) roaster is broken, even though you have spent over 6 hours in the last two days at Burundi Home Affairs wading through bribe after bribe in order for us to get a visa that will only allow us to stay here for another 28 days, even though you are bearing a burden heavier than I’ve ever seen you bear… I have hope. I believe in a God that can carry us if we let Him. I believe in you. You are the only man on the planet who could do this with such grace. Your capacity to keep smiling is insanely irritating, and I love you for it.

     

     

    My big little. You threw a rock through the window tonight. I know you are struggling. It makes your mommy wet her keyboard to think of it. To watch you battle with life overwhelms me. I want to protect you, to shelter you from some of the things that are a part of adjusting to this new life, but I can’t. I will be here, right by your side, protecting you from evil, but letting you experience this life with your.whole.being. You are a fighter and I see you testing your strength everyday. I wrote this for you the other day while you were playing with some kids:

    6 speak French

    1 English, and that one with a confidence lost

    1 parent watches

    wishing it could be different

    wishing his tongue could fly over the words

    just fly

    It’s true, all of it, except one thing. I don’t wish it to be so, I already SEE it. I see you talking in French faster than your mom and dad ever will. I see you playing with friends, shouting to them in French, not letting me in on what you are saying. I see it all. I see an amazing man, facing the world with confidence, love, and with abilities far beyond those who surround you. Abilities that living here have given you. Kids who grow up outside their parent’s home culture are just plain awesome. You are just plain awesome. I see it all, I believe it all.

    My littlest little. Oh, my baby, you have my heart. You make us all laugh every day and we NEED that. You tire us out too, with all your getting.into.everything.ness But then I remember as I discover the entire contents of the medical supply cupboard all over the floor… you are healthy, ingenious and beautiful. As you climb into the sideboard with all the plates, and break one while you are at it… you are healthy, ingenious and beautiful. When you sit on top of the dining room table proud as a peacock for climbing there… you are healthy, ingenious and beautiful. You are already soaring in Burundi, your family is all you ever needed. Thank you for reminding me of that truth.

    Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1

     

  • Yogurt Making and Our Milkman

     

    Let me mention that I am aware, someplace in my brain, that “hooray” as in “let’s jump for joy” is not spelled (or is it spelt) with two ‘r’s and one ‘o’. But in this afternoon’s heatwave, which was a doo-zee, I lost all my senses and spelt or spelled or spell-did-dit wrong. I’m sure you will forgive me, well, I hope so. Maybe I could start a new trend? I think it looks pretty good with two ‘r’s. Anyway, this is supposed to be about yogurt, not spelling.

    Let me start with the story of our milk, or what I know of it. We get our milk from the back of a motorbike that’s driven by a man named Fabrice. Yes, Faaaaaaabreeeeeeeccccccce. That’s him in the red jacket. I like his name, has a nice ring to it, but I also like to spell “hooray” with two ‘r’s so you really shouldn’t trust my opinion when it comes to anything grammatical. Back to the milk. The milk is still warm, either from the cow or the beating rays of the hot-hot sun (I am going to guess the latter), as it’s poured from an old cooking oil can into a bowl from our kitchen. This transaction takes place in our driveway.

    Myles loves Fabrice too, because sometimes he gets a ride on the bike…. while it’s stationary.

    Hi Fabrice! We like you!

    So I guess this is turning out to be a post more about my love for Fabrice than yogurt making? Back to the yogurt. When I found out that we would be moving to Burundi, I asked my dad bring over some cheese cultures from The US of A to South Africa so that we could give it a go once we got to Burundi. They are supposed to be kept frozen, but how do you do that while smuggling them across countless boarders?

    I was sure my yogurt making would flop, but these little cheese molds make it really easy for you to do well. It turned out to be the best yogurt we’ve ever made! Shush, ok, the only yogurt… but it was such a great shock to us all that we did well. So we ate it all in one day, and then made some more.

    If you feel like giving it a go, here are the steps to yogurt making:

    1. Heat the milk to 185 F (or boiling) and strain, if previously unpasteurized.

    2. Let the milk cool to 110 F.

    3. Add the cultures (freeze dried, or 2 T. store bought yogurt stirred vigorously).

    4. Let it stand for two minutes.

    5. Stir.

    6. Fill glass or other heatproof jars with the milk.

    6. Place somewhere at around 110 F for 6 hours. I filled my Le Creuset with a little water, placed the jars inside, put the end of the thermometer in the water, and put the lid on as best I could. Then I stuck the whole thing in the oven for the day, switching the oven on and off periodically to keep the temp roughly 110 F. Although, next time, I am just going to stick the jars in the sun for the day. I think that is a much better use of my resources!

    7. Refrigerate.

    8. Devour.

    For more on the yogurt making process you can go here.

    Yay for yogurt!

    Kristy

     

     

     

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