Sanctuary

I was blessed to be able to spend the month of May in Tanizania, Africa in 2010. I’d say it was the best experience of my life but I’ve had some here equally amazing. I was a picky eater back then. Okay, I’m still pretty picky but I have broadened my horizons! In Tanzania we would travel to small villages in the bush, worship with them and share a meal together. The meal almost always consisted of goat. Before the meal we would have “tea” made from warm goat milk, and bread. I wasn’t too fond of this cuisine. Luckily, I had wonderful friends who would drink my goat milk and eat my goat and bread so I didn’t have to. Thank you Jess, Nicole, Jen, and Britney! However, one meal I sat next to our professor who wasn’t going to let me get away with passing my food off. He sat next to me and told me to find my sanctuary. I looked at him puzzled. My sanctuary is on a different continent! It will take me a couple plane rides to find my sanctuary at Wartburg or back in Papillion! He explained he wasn’t referring to a physical place but more of a state of mind. The first Webster definition of sanctuary is, “a place of refuge or safety”. Sure, this could be a physical place but it can also be a state of mind. He continued to encourage me to find my sanctuary within my mind. Somewhere I felt safe. With each bite he reminded me of my sanctuary. It happened all too slowly but eventually, I finished my whole piece of mysterious goat meat. To this day, I vividly remember this exchange and use to conquer other uncomfortable situations or just in my daily life.

Typically, my sanctuary, my safe places are gazebos. I have no idea why I am drawn to gazebos but I am. One day I hope to have a gazebo of my own. LOVASOA, the Norwegian compound we had our three-week orientation at had a gazebo. Every morning that is where I could be found. I went to the gazebo to take refuge, not that I was in any physical danger, but moving to a new country is a challenge and my gazebo felt safe. As our three-weeks came to a close I was sad. Not only was I leaving the comfort of my friends but also the safety of my gazebo. Moving to Amboaloboka along with many other transitions meant finding a new sanctuary. Anna & Ian, two YAGM volunteers, stayed with me the first night before heading out to their own placements. As the three of us walked around the compound Anna spotted this little gazebo type area and said it could be my gazebo. It is filled with numerous plants that are just now starting to bloom. It is beautiful but after I tried it out, it just wasn’t fit to be my gazebo, my sanctuary.

I am pleased to tell you that I have found my sanctuary and it was in the most unlikely place. There is a small covered porch off of the kitchen. It actually, for all extensive purposes, is the kitchen. There are three charcoal stoves on this porch where all of our meals are prepared. At first, this porch intimated me. There were a lot more young women living in the house, six to be exact, compared to the two now (not including me or Salina). All six young women gathered on the porch to help cook. I’d try to come and help but with my limited Malagasy it was a challenge so I’d leave. Eventually, I started to stay and we would play a little game of charades to teach each other new words. As the weeks went on our numbers dwindled. Irena & Janelle, my host cousins, went back to their home in the south of Madagascar. Eliane, another host cousin, went back to work at the blind school several hours away. And Rova, moved into the school building to be with her classmates. Now, our porch has three attendees, Hanta, Paulette, and myself. Every night I bring the ukulele out to the porch and Hanta and I take turns playing. Hanta, who is learning English and ukulele, has successfully memorized the music and words to, Father I Adore You, I Exalt Thee, and ironically, Sanctuary. We take turns playing and who ever isn’t playing watches the meal cooking on the stove. This porch, this time together, has become my sanctuary. All of my previous sanctuaries have been different because they have been just for me. This one is special because I have let two other people in but it still feels just as safe.

My porch sanctuary has served another purpose; it is a time and place of worship. One of the things I miss most is standing next to my best friend, Jenn, every Sunday singing our hearts out with praise and adoration for Our God. I knew this would be something I’d miss because the last few times we worshiped together I couldn’t get through a single song without tears streaming down my face. I’ve struggled not having this time together with Jenn and I will continue to miss it but now I have something different. I sit on the porch and sing my favorite songs while Hanta and Paulette cook and listen. I get so into it that sometimes I don’t realize students have come around the front of the house to listen. What I really love is some of the songs I have sang so much the women add harmonies. I look forward to this time every night. It is a beautiful time of worship, and someplace safe, my porch sanctuary in Madagascar. 

Learning By Watching

I’ve been doing a great deal of watching while I have been in Madagascar. When you cannot always understand what is being said and you do not have enough language to ask what to do, you watch. I have learned the order the women I share a table with serve themselves by watching. I have learned the precise way to scoop rice onto a plate, smoosh it down, and place the appropriate amount of laoka (side) on top. I watch each greeting so I know when a handshake is appropriate and when kisses on each check should be used. While walking on an uneven path I stare at the person’s feet in front of me so I know exactly where to step. Almost everything I do, I watch someone else first. However, I am fortunate enough to be living alongside amazing women who not only want me to watch them but also want to teach me and then watch me do it!

If you are part of the Thanksgiving! Lutheran Church (T!LC) community in Bellevue, Nebraska, you may be thinking this sounds similar to the “D Square”. I was thinking the same thing! The “D Square” is short for discipleship square. T!LC adopted this from 3D Ministries (www.weare3dm.com). Each side of the square represents a stage of discipleship. The sides are as follows, I do, you watch; I do, you help; you do, I help; you do, I watch. The “I” refers to the person teaching and the “you” to the person learning. If you look at how Jesus taught His displaces you will see this progression. What’s really cool is that the young women here without realizing it have successfully taken me through the square.

As I’ve said, I’ve spent a lot of time watching while I have been here. A good portion of that watching time is spent on the porch of my house, where all the cooking happens. We have a small oven and a gas stove in the kitchen but the students must cook on a charcoal stove so in solidarity, we prepare our meals on the charcoal stove on the porch. Elliana, Paulette, Hanta, and Rova work like a well oiled machine to prepare a delicious meal. I always try and ask, “afaka manampy?” can I help but they always reply with a smile and a no.

Salina told me that we had an excess of sweet potatoes so the young women were going to make a cake. A cake out of sweet potatoes? I am intrigued. I asked Salina to let me know when they would begin to prepare it because I wanted to watch. I heard a soft knock on my door and it was Rova inviting me to watch. So like usual, I stood in the kitchen and watched the women work with such precision. Two of the girls beat eggs and sugar together until it was completely smooth while the other two peeled and mashed the sweet potatoes. It came time to add the sweet potatoes to the mix and I heard one of the women say something to me I didn’t understand but I picked up one word “manampy”. Help, manampy means help! I put it all together when I was handed the whisk. I was so happy to be asked to help prepare this cake! Paulette began spooning in the sweet potato as I cautiously whisked it all together. Occasionally, she would spin the bowl or take the whisk from me and smooth out a clump. Next, came the flour. Paulette added the flour to both my bowl and Rova’s bowl who was also making this cake for the first time. It became a competition to see who could mix in all the flour first. I mixed, and mixed, and mixed as Paulette watched me and cheered me on with “tsara be!”, very good! I’m pretty sure Rova let me win but all the women continuously called me the winner, as I had taught them the words winner and loser earlier this week. We poured the batter into two cake pans a placed them into a large pot that sat on a charcoal stove. What’s really cool is you put the lid on upside down and add charcoal to the top of the pot too. It sits like that for an hour or so before it is “vita” finished. In the meantime we finished cooking dinner all while singing, laughing, dancing and teaching each other new words. I have come to love the time we spend on the porch together. The next morning we enjoyed our sweet potato cake for breakfast. The women made sure to tell Salina which cake was mine and everyone praised me for how it turned out. I couldn’t help but smile although knowing I wouldn’t have been successful had I not had their help.

I wish I could say I have processed through the D square and picked up on everything as quickly as I did with the sweet potato cake, but I haven’t. It is a process that takes time. However, I am so blessed to have women who are patient with me and show and tell me over and over again until I understand. Even when I forget the next day they smile and repeat the process. That is the beauty of living in a community of believers. Each day they forgive me for forgetting yet again, give me the grace I don’t deserve and lovingly and persistently teach me again. 

He'll Wash Your Sins, Not Your Laundry

Today, I learned how to wash my clothes by hand! We learned once during orientation but I didn’t feel like I had a good grasp on it. At first, Salina said that the young women could wash my clothes but I insisted that I help and learn. You would think that such a mundane task would be easy but there is a lot of work that goes into it!

            First, you make some soapy water and put your clothes in the water. Next, you take a bar of soap and one garment. You rub the soap all over the garment and then rub the garment together against your hands. When you do it right it looks cool and makes an even cooler sound. I have yet to master it. After you think the garment has been scrubbed enough you wring it out and put it in a bucket of clean water. You continue this until all your clothes are in the second bucket. Now, you don’t use soap but you still rub the garment together and wring it out and place it in clean water. You continue this until the water is clean and the garments are no longer soapy. This part of the process can take a while. Today we rinsed and wrung out my clothes 4 times before they were finished. Of course, you can assume the next task is hanging everything out to dry. Reading this it sounds really easy but I promise you it is more work than you think!

While I was washing my clothes I began to think about sin. Yes, my sins are forgiven because Jesus already paid that price but it still takes some work for me to repent. My sins are my dirty clothes. The clothes are covered in dirt, shame, ugliness, hate…the list could go on. God meets me where I am with the soap of Jesus to scrub my clothes clean. Now, the dirt is washed away. The sin is cleansed and I am forgiven. However, in order for me to repent and change the way I act and believe there is so much more that needs to happen. That’s how I see each rinse cycle. Each rinse may be a scripture that pertains to the sin, a devotion, a sermon, a conversation with another believer, or a kairos moment from God.  These things make up the water, the water of life, and each time the garment is wrung out is a piece of the notion to sin leaving. Whatever the rinse cycle may be is helping me change and grow and hopefully do better next time. The clothes are hung out to dry, worn again, and eventually they become dirty and full of sin again. The cleansing process is repeated.

It is a continuous cycle. My clothes will always get dirty and I will always sin.  However, I’m always forgiven by the love of Jesus and the grace of God. I believe if I am spending time in the living water through scripture, prayer, devotions, sermons, and other believers I can make a difference. I will never break the cycle of sin but if I’m trying to live like Jesus lived, I’m happy. Jesus washed away my sins. Jesus washed away our sins. If only he would wash my laundry too. J

Arm in Arm

Over the last month in Madagascar I have learned many things. One of them is that I walk too fast for the Malagasy culture. I’ve always known I am a fast walker but here I am extremely fast.  I want to share with you two beautiful ways I have been reminded to slow my pace.

            During orientation on September 5^th we were given the task to go on a “culture capture”. Austin and Tanya didn’t give us many parameters other than we had to be outside of the compound we have been living at for 1 hour and bring something back with us. The something could be a thought, an idea, or even something tangible. I set out having no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to go. I began to pray asking God to guide me and show me what he wanted to me to see. While I was praying I was quickly walking through the streets. Eventually, I ran into a group of students on what appeared to be a field trip. As you can imagine, they were walking pretty slow which slowed me down as well. I realized how quickly I was walking and decided to make a conscience effort to walk slower. I continued walking at my slower pace into a residential area. A pousse-pousse driver had been following me for a while now offering me a ride. I had politely declined several times but he was becoming quite vocal and rude. Two women who had been walking in front of me heard the driver and turned around to help me. After quite the exchange the pousse-pousse driver left and the women and I began talking. I stumbled through what little of a conversation I knew I could have and then we stared awkwardly at each other.  Then the most wonderful thing happened, each of the women took one of my arms and we began walking together.

            On Saturday the 14^th, Rova, Hanta, Paulette, and I went out for a walk and to get some things at the market. Again, God gave me the kairos to slow down so that I could walk with these young women. I struggled to walk beside them instead of a couple steps in front of them but I did the best I could. We walked through the city and of course everyone stared at me. Rova must have sensed that I was uncomfortable because she came next to me and grabbed my armed. We continued the rest of the walk this way, arm in arm. Not only did this make me feel like I was part of the community but it helped the community see me as part of it too.

            These are two beautiful reminders that I have to walk, both literally and figuratively, with the Malagasy people this year. If I try to walk too quickly and do it on my own I wont get anywhere. However, if I walk arm in arm with my community and God who knows what is possible! So I am going to surrender my need to walk quickly and instead take the pace of those I am walking with, walking arm in arm. 

Around The Table

             I hesitate to sound like the old Nickelodeon campaign (Was it gather round the table?)…but something special happens around the table.

             Over the last week I have come to appreciate the time spent around the table. Of course it is great because I am getting nourishment and everyone loves food but there is more to it.  Before I get to the table it is always a mystery how many people I will be sharing a meal with. Then I get to the table and see how many places are set and begin to wonder who will fill those seats. After some time everyone gathers round and we pause to say a prayer of thanksgiving. Most of the time the prayer is in Malagasy and I can only pick out a few words but sometimes one of the young women will say a prayer in English. The meal always starts out quiet with awkward glances and smiles across the table but by the end we are laughing and having a good time. This has also been a great place for me to learn Malagasy and teach English in exchange. Cultural barriers are broken around the table. I feel as if we come to the table as strangers and leave as friends. I look forward to every meal knowing that I will get my fill of not only food but conversations too. This is not only true for meals at my house but for meals at Soatanana too.

            In Soatanana we had no table to gather around but sat on the ground in a circle. As always, someone would begin with a prayer. The young women from Amboaloboka would then dish each of us a plate. At first I thought it was a coincidence but later I realized that each meal the women would make a plate special for me. Graciously, they gave me a smaller portion than everyone else so I would have no problem cleaning my plate. Just like that the meal would begin and conversations would slowly follow after. The first few meals were uncomfortable for me. The conversations were all in Malagasy and happening way to fast for me to understand. So I sat quietly and ate.  After a few meals, my new friend, Nirina, exposed that she knew English and we began to talk. Eventually everyone began to take part in this conversation that consisted of broken English and Malagasy.  The time we spent together in meals made me feel like part of the community. Again, we came to the table as strangers and left as friends.

            When we come to break bread together we are in community. I can’t fully explain what happens but I am so glad it does. Like I said, there is something special that happens around the table. 

Coming Home

          The past few days I have had quite the cultural immersion. On Sunday the 15^th, Salina (my host mom), Janette (a young woman who works at Amboaloboka), the wife of the guard at Amboaloboka, and another young woman who is friends with the other women set out to go to church to catch a bus to Soatanana. We went to Soatanana for a conference and a ceremony for men and women who completed their two-year sheparding training.

            When we arrived at the church there was one bus and tons of people. I quietly began to stress out in my mind because the number of people who needed a ride and the number of seats in that bus did not match up. Thankfully another bus and a truck appeared! We loaded all of our things onto the top of the bus and set out for Soatanana.

            From what I can tell, Soatanana is a very small countryside town. The town sits nestled in between mountains, which provides for an excellent view. All the members of my church stayed in one house. We were given two rooms to sleep and eat in. The room I stayed in was of decent size but we had about twenty people staying together. It definitely made for close quarters. We also shared a small concrete room to “do our business” and shower in. I was thankful for a place to sleep and eat but I wasn’t looking forward to staying there for three nights.

            The conference was held outside in an open area. There was a stage set up with chairs and a nice covering to provide those shade who sat under it. Everyone else was expected to sit on the ground, a brick, or something they brought to sit on. The mornings were always brisk but by the afternoon it was quite hot. I do not know how the people bared to sit in the sun for hours but they did. I was one of the fortunate who was invited to sit on stage. It doesn’t sit well with me that I was invited on stage because I am a foreigner but I don’t have enough language yet to communicate my feelings. The upside to sitting on the stage was meeting Pastor Dennis from Tana. He whole heartily welcomed Karis (another YAGM who is also in Finaranstoa and joined me in Soatanana for a day) and I to Soatanana and because his English was so good he translated much of the service on Tuesday. He let us ask endless questions, encouraged us to take pictures, and was a nice friendly face to see throughout the conference.

            Even with the translations from Pastor Dennis and Salina it was hard to fully comprehend what was going on.  From what I did understand, it was hours and hours of church. Most days were filled with five to eight hours of church. I found lots of time to read my Bible, pray, let my mind wander, journal, and write letters to all of you lovely people back home. As frustrating as it is not to know what is going on, it is nice to be able to take for me in the midst of it all.

After another long worship service, packing the bus, and sharing a meal with at least 200 Malagasy people we left Soatanana. I was tired, smelly, and hungry when we arrived back at Amboaloboka. I just wanted to go shower, skip dinner, and go to bed. However as the headlights from the taxi hit the house the door flung open and all the young women came running to greet us. Excitedly they opened the car door and helped me out. Each woman greeted me with, “Tongasoa”, welcome, a hand shake that is almost good as a hug, and kisses on each cheek. (Emily, this is nothing like we do. Haha J) The welcome I received was just what I needed to forget about my awful mood. After four days of feeling out of place it felt so great to be back to somewhere familiar. After a much needed shower we shared a meal together. The young women must have noticed that my favorite laoka (side) is potatoes with eggs because that is what had. We prayed, ate, laughed, talked, and taught each other new words but the best of all is that we were together again. For the first time here I felt at home. Together at home. 

Giggles & Smiles

I cannot even begin to express to you the sights, the sounds, the smells, or the people of Madagascar using words alone.  Not even a picture would capture everything I have seen and heard. You might be asking, why are you even writing if you can’t put into words or a picture what you are experiencing?  It’s because the most impactful moment I have experienced you can experience too.

On Sunday, our first morning in Antsirabe, I found a gazebo (I love gazebos!)  overlooking a small part of the city to sit in and just spend some quiet time. It was pretty early but the town was already beginning to bustle preparing for Church. I began to listen to what was happening around me. Over top of the birds, cars, music, and conversations I heard children singing, playing, and laughing. I couldn’t see these children but their sounds brought me such joy. I could not help myself from smiling.

On several occasions, we have ventured outside of the Norwegian compound we call home for the next three weeks. The moment we step outside of the gate of our comfortable home we become, vaza. Foreigner. Everyone seems to stop and look at us. You can feel the conversations begin to rise among the Malagasy people. The children sometimes call out, vaza, vaza! And then, more often times than not they smile and giggle. As uncomfortable as all the attention might be I look at the children and smile back at them. Their reactions to my smile vary and sometimes make me laugh too. So then, without any words, we laugh and smile together. A smile doesn’t disappear within seconds so as I continue down the street I make eye contact with a shopkeeper or someone passing by and smile. Do you know what happens? Despite all our differences, the lack of language, and the uncomfortable feeling I’m sure we both have…they smile too.

The pure joy a smile and laughter can bring is powerful. I already know that I am going to continually use a smile and laughter throughout my whole year. So smile, wherever you may find yourself. It is universal and crosses all cultural barriers. Besides, who doesn’t love to smile? :)