Thanksgiving from Scratch (and Stove Top stuffing): How Americans do T-day in Africa

Before this year my main contribution to Thanksgiving dinner was making the topping for mom's sweet potato casserole. I also did an apple crisp in its entirety one year, but other than that I had zero experience. Unless, of course, you count watching my grandmother pick "Tom the turkey" clean or make a neck-and-gizzard gravy, or throw together a homemade oyster stuffing.

But nobody really counts that. It only matters if you get your own hands dirty.

So it will come as no surprise when I tell you that I watched Thanksgiving approach with mixed feelings. We celebrated the Saturday before Thanksgiving, as that is when our other American friends from Lesotho were in town visiting. Abby and I had planned out the menu and just hoped it would all come together. We'd both lived through our fair share of T-days, and how hard could it be? We can read recipes and know how to cook, right?

Right! It turns out that wouldn't be our problem, the cooking I mean. The interesting part would be gathering the proper ingredients, things that are so commonplace back home but are either nonexistent or really hard to track down in Africa. Creativity and ingenuity would be key.

And then there was the issue of space. My oven only measures 18 inches across, 14 inches tall, and about 15 1/2 inches deep. Let me put that in perspective: how big is a 9x13 casserole dish? That's what I thought.

The question became, how are we going to make a complete Thanksgiving dinner when we're working with a miniature, one rack oven? Todd came to the rescue on this one. He suggested making the turkey in the crockpot! Brilliant :)

The turkey was the most stressful part of the entire meal for me. I'd certainly never made an entire turkey before, and until the moment we unwrapped it and placed in the crockpot the night before the big day, I had no idea if it would actually fit. It was just about 8 pounds and that, come to find out, happens to be the perfect size for my crockpot. Turkey score!

It took several hours in a rather warm kitchen, finagling casseroles like a Tetris game in the oven, and praying the turkey would be done on time (and just generally "done,") but in the end we had our feast!

Oh, and not everything on our table was homemade...we had Stove Top stuffing imported from home and it was fabulous :) That goes on the list of things-not-properly-found-in-Africa. Both Abby and I have tried a brand of stuffing mix here, but it's just not the same.

Here's the day in review...

 The first thing Abby did was fry up some onion strips for the green bean casserole, because we're pretty sure French's in the can doesn't exist here. Thanks to some help from the Pioneer Woman, they turned out great! I don't do GBC, so I sprinkled some on top of my stuffing.

Thanksgiving day action shot: chopping pecans for the sweet potato casserole!

Everything we had to fit in the oven simultaneously: apple-cranberry crisp, sweet potato casserole and green bean casserole.

I'm so pleased with how my turkey turned out! It was so moist and flavorful and done in 4.5 hours on low! (uh, my crockpot is on the hot side) I Told Todd I couldn't understand why more people don't do crockpot turkeys, but then I realized it's probably because most families need something bigger than an 8-pounder :)

The chefs! Not pictured: Todd, who mashed the potatoes. The menu consisted of:
-Turkey
-Apple-cranberry crisp
-Sweet potato casserole
-Green bean casserole
-Mashed potatoes
-Stuffing
-Turkey gravy we made from our turkey drippings
-Pecan pie

Here's what my plate looked like! I couldn't believe I didn't have to fight anyone for a leg, but I was surrounded by white meat snobs ;) Really though, the white meat was some of the best I've ever tasted!

We were thankful for grace, family, friends, food, and sub-90-degree weather so we could cook in relative comfort and enjoy our dinner on the patio!

Hope your day was as tasty as ours :) Happy Thanksgiving!

Do people even have babies in Africa?

Fact: I live in Africa. Fact: I’m pregnant. The time has come to ponder and answer this vital question:

Can people even have babies in Africa?

You can imagine how relieved I am that the answer is...yes :) 

I’ve never had a baby domestically so having one abroad doesn’t actually seem as complicated as it might to a seasoned American mother, I’m sure. I relied heavily at first on locals to tell me what doctor to use and to give me tips like being careful to only seek out a doctor who wouldn’t require me to schedule a non-emergency C-section two weeks prior to my due date (extremely common here). That was good to know. 

I haven’t been in this boat very long and I’m sure there will be much more for me to learn, but in the mean time, let me give you a brief look into pregnancy and delivery conditions here in the not-so-primitive country of South Africa:

1. They have OBGYNs here, and they can be found at real hospitals. I’m sorry to tell you though that here they are called a “gynae” which is pronounced “guy-nee”...so classy. 
2. My doctor’s office is small, but has all the right equipment to do a complete ultrasound. I was able to see the little guy swimming around at about 10 weeks just like anyone back home might :) 
3. Based on what you learned from #2, it will probably come as no surprise that we will have as good a chance of learning the gender as all of our pregnant friends in the states! All we need is a cooperative baby...
4. People here can choose to give birth in a hospital with an OB (public or private hospitals, and the private ones are considered “better”) or a birthing center. Of course, no matter where you live I suppose you always have the option of a DIY delivery at home, but no thanks. 
5. The pharmacies have a variety of prenatal vitamins, only be sure to ask for “antenatal.” That’s what they call it here...antenatal :) 
6. People get morning sickness all over the world :( 
7. Most medical centers will accept medical insurance, but not initially. You pay up front for the services provided and settle things with your insurance company yourself. This would be nearly impossible for most Americans, I think, but here in South Africa...
8. HEALTHCARE IS SO CHEAP! I was shocked, I tell you, absolutely shocked! My first appointment with my OB—which included an ultrasound—cost 900R. That’s $90! Total. Not after insurance, total! Seriously, I’m not even sure we’ll be able to get any reimbursement even after the entire pregnancy and delivery are over and done, because we may not have even reached our deductible! If you want to have babies on the cheap, this is the place to do it :) 
9. Pippy will not qualify for South African citizenship because his foreign father and I are not considered permanent residents of the country. We’re more like long-term visitors, since we’re on a two-year visitor’s visa. 

Ok, that’s what I know for now. So next time you’re asked if foreigners can even have a baby in Africa, tell them yes, they totally can!

Thanks to Todd for working up these highly technical and descriptive illustrations for me on the fly ;) 

Hot Chocolate and Flip-Flops

First of all...

Happy 4th of July :) 

I’ve only been able to say that to two other people today because the vast majority of people around me couldn’t care less that it’s July 4th. I can’t say that I blame them; I don’t celebrate their nation’s birthday either. I’m trying to remember if I ever said “Happy 4th of July” when I was in America. Hmm...maybe. 

Last 4th of July, Todd and I had red, white and blue pancakes for breakfast, and then spent most of the day “partying” at the pool with his family. Then we went to see fireworks in Johnson City, and just generally had a really great day. You can check it out here.  

This 4th of July is only the 4th of July. There’s no celebration, no cookouts (oh, excuse me, braais), and no fireworks. I’m also wearing a hoodie instead of shorts and a swimsuit, or bathing costume as they call them here. Bathing costume! Ha! 

This isn’t really unique to July 4th, of course; it’s the whole northern/southern hemisphere thing. It’s July, and my flat is freezing. It’s July, and I wore a coat in to work this morning. It’s July, and how many marshmallows would you like with your hot chocolate? 

But for all of the wintery things we’re doing in ZA right now, I need to let you know that every single day of this short winter has been beautiful. You can count on the sun being out, every day! Most days are cloudless and I don’t even remember the last time it dared to rain. It might be freezing cold inside but I’ve not had so much as a frosted windshield to scrape before I can pull out of the driveway, and I take afternoon jogs in shorts and a T-shirt, no problem. 

It’s really only being indoors that reminds you which season you’re in. The mornings and evenings are cool outside, but all day long our flat is like a refrigerator. I’ve found, though, that I’m really quite prepared. Growing up (and for crying out loud, she’d probably even say it to me now if I was there) mom used to tell us that if we were cold, we’d better just put on more clothes because the thermostat was on 68 and she was not turning it up. It was good preparation. Todd and I bundle up in sweaters, wool socks, and a very fluffy pink house coat (ok, I use the pink housecoat) in the mornings and evenings, and when we’re at home during the day, we open the front door to let the warm air in. It’s the craziest thing.

To illustrate this concept for you (and I mean literally “illustrate”), we have an artist’s rendering of a real South African winter, done by my very own resident artist :)

First, here's an idea of what you could be doing outside on, say, today, for instance, minus the clouds:

And, here's what you'll want to do after your walk:

Yep. That's about right. Note Todd's earmuffs and my hooded head :) 

 We hope you all have a wonderful 4th of July, remembering the God who made it possible and the many men who sacrificed much. 

Ingenuity at its finest

I remember being petrified when we left the Johannesburg airport just over five months ago, and to this day I don’t call it completely irrational. I had heard how crime-riddled South Africa is, and when the OMer who collected us from the airport pulled into a gas station parking lot I waited for the van to be assaulted and my purse to be ripped away. I walked smack up against Todd towards the shop, expecting at any moment to ward off pick-pockets who would, doubtless, assume that my obvious great wealth would be contained in its entirety in my small yellow handbag. 

Many people here (I might even go so far as to say most) have at least one story that begins with, “when my car was stolen...” or worse, “the first time my car was stolen... .” House break-ins are not that uncommon either, so we don’t leave our “valuables” lying around when we leave the flat. When we get in the car, my purse goes out of sight as we’ve been told leaving things like handbags, GPSs, and laptop cases out in plain view is great incentive for a “smash-and-grab,” which is exactly what it sounds like: someone smashing your window and grabbing what they see.

Before we got here I never found myself praying that the car wouldn’t be stolen and praise the Lord, we have not had a single crime-related problem since we arrived :) I’ve calmed down a lot and don’t get nearly as nervous to walk around a shop by myself. Yesterday was a good example of just how far God has brought me. I thought about it as Todd and I went our separate ways at one of the malls. I needed to go to the drugstore and grocery store, and Todd had some banking business to handle. What would have at first taken us twice as long to do we now feel comfortable enough to accomplish using the divide-and-conquer method. Progress indeed. 

On this particular solo shopping adventure, I ran into something that...made an impression. I went to the drugstore first, which is like Walgreens or CVS. I like it (except when I’m looking for chap stick which was almost impossible to find). The main reason I like it is the rewards card it offers. I don’t go to the drugstore very often, but the rewards card has come in handy multiple times at the cinema, where we use it to get our movie tickets half off. Good job, Africa :) 

Anyway, I'm getting off track. I got what I wanted at the drugstore and then made my way to the grocery store, just down the hall (malls here include grocery and drug stores along with the normal mall-ish vendors. Sometimes I think it’s a great set-up, and other times I wish I could just stop at the store without having to park and walk all the way through a mall. The grocery store we usually visit, Spar, is in a strip mall, though, so it’s quite convenient).

As I entered the grocery store, a PicknPay, one of the attendants approached me and said something I didn't quite catch. He gestured me over to a little counter and I was afraid he wanted me to put my bag from the drugstore in some kind of holding place to be picked up when I left. I wasn’t excited about leaving my stuff with someone else, but if that was the policy...

I shouldn’t have worried. This is all the guy wanted to do: 

It cracked me up inside. Never, in my entire life, have I ever had a bag sealed around my wrist. Ingenious? I think so. Having neutralized any shoplifting threat I posed, the attendant released me to go about my business. Just another day in the life in Africa ;)

The Kind-of-Jurassic Park

It wasn’t hot or cold as we began our trek up the side of a little mountain. It was rocky, though, and the trail narrowed considerably at times. It was very wild. So wild, in fact, that you didn’t need to muster much imagination to envision a large snake popping up out of nowhere, or some big, fiendish “cat” sunning on a boulder. It was peaceful, and still, except for...

BEEP, BEEP-BEEP!!!

rrrrRRRRRRRNNNNNNDddddd

CHOP..CHOP..CHOP..CHOP

In case my attempts at city-life-based onomatopoeia are lost on you, I'll go ahead and let you know that we weren’t really in the sahara, or kalahari, or anything close to traditional “African” safari-land. We were at Groenkloof Nature Reserve, a park situated right outside the city of Pretoria. As in, there were several points on our otherwise remote-looking hike when you could see the smoggy city skyline, and the hum-to-roar of the interstate was an omnipresent reminder of our true location. 

But despite the ambience, the park was great! It’s nice to be living in the city but still have this rural oasis for hiking, biking, and sightseeing. It’s not the only one of its kind in Pretoria, and not the first one we visited, but so far, it’s my favorite for one very large reason:

Giraffe.

If you visit a “nature reserve” in the southeastern United States, whence Todd and I hail, you might be lucky to see a deer, really lucky to see a coyote, and insanely lucky to see both. I have family who have seen an actual, real-life black bear, but that’s not normal. My mom danced around a snake once, but we don’t speak of that *hi mom*.  I think when we use the term “nature reserve” back home, we mostly mean a place you can hang out around the flora and fauna, but you have to leave your gun at home.

However, at a South African nature reserve, you can count on a handful of African animals to be milling about, and it’s kind of an exotic feeling. I imagine it’s about as close to being at Jurassic Park as most people can be.

I had a pretty good idea that we wouldn’t see too much wildlife when we started our hike up the mountain. We would need to be in flatter, grassier places, preferably downhill, as that’s the way water tends to run. When our hike afforded us a view of the valley below us,Todd and I would scan the horizon in search of black and white herds, or large concentrations of bok (springbok, impala, kudu, etc., we just call them all “bok”), but what we really wanted to find was a giraffe! Not all the parks in Pretoria have them, so this was my chance!

The tracker in me (ha!) kept an eye on the ground,  but I’m not sure what I was hoping to interpret from the various droppings we stepped in. 

“I wish I knew my poop,” I said to Todd at one point, trying to deicide what manner of beast would have left that particular mess.

“I think you’re tracking a horse,” came his expert opinion. Well, the park does offer horse tours...

I had to face that I have absolutely no idea how to tell the difference between zebra, horse and giraffe droppings, and it would probably serve me better to keep my eyes out rather than down. As we neared the end of our hike, winding around on a rocky trail overlooking the road the 4x4 vehicles take for sightseeing, we looked out over the valley, and that’s when we spotted them.

At least six huge silhouettes. They were incredible! I wanted to scamper right down the uncharted side of the little mountain and take whatever fate would befall me (which would be me, falling), dead set on getting some close-ups. But Todd (the two words I use to describe him when he knows best and therein ruins my fun) thought it would probably be wise to keep going on the trail a bit farther. He thought it would meet up with the main road eventually, at which point we could backtrack to the sighting.

I was panicked. I’d waited all morning and come out here with the express intention of seeing and stalking giraffe, and here I was, this close! I kept looking down towards them every time there was a break in the trees. At one point, I noticed they had started walking, single file, to who knows where! Todd finally gave in and we took what appeared to be a bok trail down the side of the hill, hoping not to meet with a ravine. 

It didn’t take us long to realize that the giraffe were heading towards us, just as we were racing headlong down the hill towards them! We got really close...like probably 10 yards away! They stopped and stared at us, the giant horses they are. We followed them around for probably 20 minutes. They weren’t in any real hurry, and didn’t seem particularly bothered by us, snapping pictures and whistling at them to get them to look our direction. At one point, Todd tripped on some rocks which startled the whole little herd and they comically skipped back a few steps.  

The coolest thing they did, though, was gallop. Have you seen a giraffe gallop? Or more interestingly, have you heard them gallop? They didn’t do it but for a couple of seconds, but while they did they sounded like massive horses, running in slow-motion. It was so cool. Totally worth sneaking around in shoulder-high grass to get pictures of them watching us curiously. 

To get back to my Jurassic Park metaphor, the giraffes are like the brachiosauruses, the great tall things that eat plants and are majestic to watch. The zebra are like some other little abundant herbivore; they can be the stegosauruses. The ostriches are like the velociraptors. They’re super intimidating, ugly, and mean. 

While there are much cooler car safaris you can take in other parts of South Africa, where things like elephants, leopards, hippos and lions pop up, there’s something really...adventurous about walking around with giraffe :) 

Giraffe are so cool :) 

Here's Todd for a proximity reference. See how close we are‽

The zebra. Todd got a bit closer than this, but frankly, zebra are so much less interesting when there are giraffe to be had.

They're like donkeys, really. 

This is a velociraptor shot we got at a different park in Pretoria earlier this year, but it's just to remind you of the evil disposition of the ostrich. We saw one lone ostrich at Groenkloof,  but he was too far away to capture photographically.

Africa and the 10 Easy Steps

You know, it’s been a while since I’ve T.I.A.d you all; this is certainly not due to a lack of truly “African” experiences. Perhaps it’s just been building and building and today it finally pushed me over the top. No, we didn’t meet a lion on the road, nor were we traumatized by traditionally “dressed” Africans on television (that happened last week). Please, no. But before you can fully appreciate the experience in all of its African glory, I think I should first relate to you our TV fiasco.

In South Africa one must have a television license before one can purchase a television (we’re told—by our very distinguished british co-workers—that this inane practice is also implemented in the UK, so it can’t be all bad; it’s how the BBC—bless them and their brilliance—are funded, at least in part) . It costs about $25 every year, or 250 Rand, never mind that we just want it to watch our movies and aren't even using cable or public broadcasting. Todd did his research and learned that he could buy the TV he wanted at a particular store that issued licenses at the time of purchase. Great. 

We got to the store, found the TV, and spoke to an attendant. We were well on our way to purchasing the license when Todd flashed his passport and everything screeched to a halt. As it happens, the store can’t issue licenses based on passports; you need ZA identification and we don’t have that. 

The attendant was helpful and told us to just zip on over to the post office where they do (of all things) issue passport-based television licenses (you might need to read that again to really appreciate it). Long story short, we found the nearest PO, purchased a license, and made our way back to the store to get the TV. Todd was nearly giddy at how easy getting the license had been. I, on the other hand, had this creeping suspicion that something was off. 

It had been too easy. We’ve been in ZA long enough for me to know that most things aren’t easy. Paying for a hamburger isn’t easy, getting an internet contract isn’t easy, buying a refrigerator isn’t easy, and checking to see if your car battering is dead is really not easy (if you’re us and decide to be completely mental). It just didn’t seem right that we could attempt to and succeed in purchasing a television all on the same day with only one extra trip. No way. 

I expressed my skepticism to Todd who wasn’t in any mood to be discouraged by my reservations. We walked to the electronics section and Todd found an attendant. I perused the aisles (where I discovered the iPig...have you seen one of these things?), and waited for him to come get me, TV in tow. But that didn’t happen. Oh, he did come get me, but was curiously sans-TV. He also wasn’t smiling his usual laid-back, care-free grin he could be nearly famous for. 

“What’s up?” I asked.

“They can’t help me until Monday.”

“What?”

“I told the guy I had a license, he asked me when I got it, and when I said ‘today’ he told me he couldn’t help me until Monday.”

So. That was that. It turns out that the lady at the PO had told Todd the license would work immediately, but the attendant at the store wasn’t hearing it. Hilarious. My hunch had been right and we left, as expected, without a television. T.I.A.! Oh my word, T.I.A.! 

This brings us to today. Don’t worry, we did go back and get the TV on the Monday after this happened, and it was fine. Works and everything. Today’s story has to do with internet purchases, a whole new world of T.I.A.

In case you didn’t know, today is the opening day of Star Trek: Into Darkness in ZA, and our Distinguished British Friends and we decided to make a date of it at the cinema tonight. Carlton (who has actually been nicknamed “BBC” due to his renowned accent, epitomizing what you think of when you hear the word “England”) brought his laptop to the office where Todd and I work and the two of them selected seats and were taking turns paying by debit card. 

It turns out you need a cell phone number to complete the process, so Todd entered his number...which didn’t work. This is because you don’t need just any cell number; it has to be a number listed with one of the two approved providers. Guess what? We’re not with one of the two approved providers who seem to have some kind of sinister monopoly on the cinema ticket-via-internet-and-cell-phone industry. This only deterred us temporarily, however, as Ali, Carlton’s wife, is in the highly exclusive cinema-approved cell phone club. We used her number. 

This didn’t work either, though, for reasons I don’t really understand. I wasn’t actively trying to purchase the tickets myself, but I did perk up when Carlton mentioned that it was a 10 step process. Really, it takes 10 steps. See?

Here's the process at large...

...and here it is honed in on just the portion completed by phone.

If I was less familiar with the system (is there a system?), I probably would have gotten aggravated like I did when we first arrived and things didn’t work. Now, I laugh. I’m such a westerner, things like this seem positively prehistoric. 

After several failed attempts Carlton called the cinema and confirmed seats for us. And, while it may be murder to try to purchase tickets digitally, the purchase price itself is really cheap. Todd and I can see a non-matinee (the price doesn't change based on time of day) for less than $10—total! (Movie prices are cheap anyway, but we use our Clicks Pharmacy card and get a discount) And popcorn costs less than $2 for a size that must be considered a medium in most American cinemas (or theaters or “shows” as we say). And the theater is actually very nice, as I pointed out in a previous post. 

Lesson learned: online purchases require too many steps, and I’d rather get my exercise in real life :) T.I.A.!

It's Always Africa

I might be among the few who have moved to Africa to experience city life. It isn’t the first continent that comes to my mind when I think of fast-paced and multi-cultural, but there’s no reason why it shouldn’t. I think most westerners have a warped image in mind when they hear “Africa”: giant reptiles, thatched roofs, women carrying enormous loads on their heads...if that is your view of Africa at large, then it will not surprise you to learn that I have seen all three of these things in the population-three-million-city of Pretoria. Granted, the reptile was only “giant” compared to others of its kind I’ve seen in the states, and it was domesticated, but I can check all three typical African sights off my list. 

I wish I could describe to you the integration of traditional Africa in the urban setting I’m living in. You think you’re in a completely modern world, driving down a four-lane highway, and then all of a sudden you’re staring at a shanty township, rows and rows of dilapidated shelters with metal roofs secured by rocks at the corners. It’s the stark, in-your-face reminders like this that jerk me back to the fact that Africa is very much...well...African. 

Since arriving I’ve realized I’m accustomed to being treated a certain way and having things meet my American standards, especially when it comes to service. I felt like a quote for auto insurance should have taken about 20 minutes, not nearly two business days. And take a look at this; it’s our bank.

And we thought bankers had it good in the states. Ha! 

While a few things done the “African way” are vastly different than the states, it hasn’t yet come down to a matter of right and wrong. I find myself saying “T.I.A.” a lot (this is Africa, for those wondering...and I didn’t make it up). But, I don’t always have to say it because something frustrating is happening; there are a number of times I could say it and mean quite the opposite. 

For instance, today Todd and I had to get petrol. No one pumps their own petrol here; you just pull in and are directed by an attendant who then pumps the gas for you and cleans your windshield while you sit in the car. You tip them R5 (something like...65 cents, maybe?), and are on your way. T.I.A.!

This weekend we went out to one of the biggest if not THE biggest mall I’ve ever been in. We saw a movie at the theater there, and you actually get to select your seat at the kiosk where you purchase your tickets. Here’s Todd demonstrating:

The theater was really nice, big and clean, and the tickets were certainly reasonably priced. T.I.A.!

After our movie, we stopped at an ice cream shop (Todd loves ice cream), and as I strolled nonchalantly over to the counter, the man mentioned that they had some sorbet flavors as well. I tried to keep from showing any excitement. I can’t do ice cream, but I do enjoy sorbet, when I can find it. I tasted the mango sorbet and my mouth started fanfaring. It was among the most delicious substances I’ve ever tasted...amazing! I savored every single bite of my one-scoop serving (I was trying not to be a fatty). It was like they’d just pureed a mango and frozen it. I love mango, so I would probably have been thrilled with less exciting results, but this knocked it out of the park. I deem that mall among my favorites. T.I.A.!!!

I could go on...I never thought I’d have a cute car, but God gave us one. It was well within the car fund we’d had to raise before coming. I’ve said on multiple occasions, “isn’t that a cute car?” Todd always answers in the affirmative, but I don’t know that he ever really wanted to be driving a “cute car.” (I’ll have to put up a picture some time...I don’t have one yet.) T.I.A.!!!

Then there’s the apartment. That will be at least one full post in itself later, but let me just give you a teaser...it’s incredible. T.I.A.!!!

We have lots to be thankful for, as always, and lots to continue learning about South Africa. I’m sure I’ll have to keep praying for an attitude adjustment at times, and maybe try to learn to enjoy the “laid back” lifestyle and culture that abounds, even in what appears to be a busy, modern, fast-paced city. Don’t let it fool you, though; you know its secret. T.I.A.  :)  

Culture101

I have been an unofficial South African resident for approximately 65 days now, I think. If my math is correct. I hope most people who know me well know to stop trusting me when I start  delving into the world of numbers, but I’m fairly sure that this is an accurate calculation. 

While we have been living here for over two months, most of that time was spent on the training base. It’s a nice enough place, but very secluded and highly multicultural. It was interesting and fun to be around people from all over the world, but it doesn’t contribute much towards a South African acclimation. 

Now that we’re out in the wide world (and I do mean wide world...I’ve never been a big city girl before), we can finally start learning about our new home! It’s an adventure we’re chomping at the bit to begin, and really have sort of begun. Here are some things I’ve learned about South Africa:

• “Just now” is a term you hear frequently, but it doesn’t mean what you think. The first time I heard it, we’d only been on the base for a few days. One of the other trainees said that she’d see us at dinner “just now.” It sounds straight forward, but we were walking to the dining hall and she was going the other direction. I was thoroughly confused. Upon further exposure to the phrase, I have deduced (and been informed) that “just now” simply means that whatever someone plans to do will get done eventually. It in no way indicates that it will be done immediately. Go figure. 
• Braai (pronounced bry): the term used to describe a South African barbecue, but not with an American- looking grill. The ones I’ve seen have usually been stone with iron grates, and your choice of charcoal or wood (perhaps wood is more common?) is lit beneath the grate. Some of the smaller ones resemble a traditional grill a bit. South Africans are HUGE carnivores...I mean these guys really love their meat. Sausages, chops, steak, it’s all available. I’m more of a chicken-and-fish kinda gal, but I can get into some red meat when I have to :) 
• ZA: South Africa. 
• The Afrikaans tend to be, on average, a bit taller than Americans. This is just my personal observation, mind you, and it’s definitely a generalization. It probably has something to do with their Dutch decent, as the Dutch are among the tallest people in the world (another generalization, but my information comes from a Dutch lady). While we’re on the topic, Todd is of Dutch decent as well (a good example that not all Dutch are towering giants :) ), and a couple of people have picked it out based on our last name. 
• The Afrikaans language has a lot of English similarities (or Engles, as it is in Afrikaans...see, I’m learning!), and Todd and I are trying to pick up a bit. Pretoria has a large Afrikaans population, and on more than one occasion we’ve been approached by someone who proceeded to speak to us in that language. But no worries; they switch seamlessly to English when you respond to them. We haven’t noticed any kind of prejudiced, or hesitancy to use English when needed. 
• Rooibus tea has become a favorite of mine. Rooibus is a plant only harvested in a particular region of South Africa, so I’m told. 
• Related to the tea, there is a delightful little snack that South Africans love to enjoy with their tea and coffee; it’s called a rusk. It’s like a chunky biscotti, for lack of a better description, and it comes in many varieties. I didn’t think I’d like them at first, but now it’s one of my favorite things to eat for breakfast, a rusk dipped in rooibus tea! (I actually don’t advise trying to eat one without dipping it first). It makes me feel like I’m really embracing the culture ;) 
• Todd and I are trying to put forth an effort to adopt some of the English lingo we’ve heard over the past few months: cookies are “biscuits,” fries have *sometimes* become “chips,” and dessert can be referred to as “pudding,” regardless of what it is. It’s hard to be consistent, but we’re trying! 

I don’t want to overwhelm anyone (including myself) with culture...but I am actually kind of excited about learning everything! These are the easy things, of course; we won’t get into currency conversion (there’s an app for that...so much better than the rough estimation we were using!), learning to drive on the other side of the road (be looking for that story “just now” ;) ), and dealing with heatless homes. 

But God has taken good care of us. I confess, I got really stressed out yesterday...we started looking at accommodation online, and most of it didn’t look very promising. I’ve got a brighter perspective this morning, though, and am just praying for him to provide what we need when we need it. He always has before. I think we’ll have many stories of his miraculous provision to share with you all! 

Here's an example of a braai...this is at the MDT base. 

And this doesn't have anything to do with anything; it's just a picture of us at a park we visited a few weeks ago. Carry on. :) 

Lesotho Mission Trip

Lesotho: a tiny country completely surrounded by South Africa where the mountains are incredible and the peaches abundant. As part of our missions discipleship training, Todd and I spent a total of 13 days in two different locations within Lesotho for a rural outreach. We were on a team of 9 MDTrainees: 3 South Africans, 3 Americans, 2 Chinese, and one Australian. 

We arrived in Leribe on Wednesday night, but our journey from Pretoria started just after 4 am. I took some motion sickness medicine before we left and was completely out of it for most of the day. Big mistake, plan to never do it again, if I can help it. Bleh. On the up side, I slept a lot on the drive. 

We stayed at Joy to the World ministries Wednesday night, and then all the teams headed out to their respective locations Thursday morning. We were blessed enough to be stationed in Hameletsani, a little village right at the foot of some of the most beautiful mountains I’ve ever seen, and I’m from east Tennessee. They really were beyond description. I tried not to get used to their majesty, and even did my quiet time outside most mornings, despite it sometimes being rather cold. It’s so interesting that God would plant such gorgeous scenery in a corner of the world that the vast majority will never ever see, or even hear about...

I was totally prepared to sleep in a tent outside and freeze nearly to death. I was so ready to take it like the man I am most definitely not, turn off the complaint mechanism, and deal with it. If I sound negative, here’s why: I don’t like camping. I think air mattresses are super uncomfortable and I hate walking in the dark, outside, with the wild animals, to go to the bathroom, something MiniBladder me will inevitably have to do. 

So you can imagine my surprise when Todd and I got to pitch our tent inside the church building with the rest of our team. The other two guys pitched a tent inside as well. The girls slept without one, but it worked out. The nine of us, plus our two translators, were snug as bugs in our little cement and cinderblock fortress. 

Which brings me to the next point: I mentioned my position on air mattresses, but I’m about to retract. I didn’t have an air mattress on this trip, only a thin foam pad. If you can call it a pad...”pad” seems to indicate a degree of cushioning, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I had no cushioning. I laid that “pad” down, a blanket down, and another micro “pad” down on the cement, got inside my sleeping bad, and proceeded to literally bruise my hip. Seriously, I think I saw some discoloration. And it wasn’t just me; Todd found it super uncomfortable, as did almost everyone else on the team who didn’t have a proper mattress. I am thankful that most nights I was so tried, I fell right to sleep. But every single night was interrupted by at least one grueling trip to the local “long-drop,” which, as you can guess, is the outhouse. Needless to say, I would have gladly accepted an air mattress.

I must say, besides sleeping on a rock and walking in the dark to the bathroom, the rural-ness was much less intense than I’d expected. We had a running shower (cold water of course, lest you think we were living large) every day except the last 4 (when we ran out of water), cooked over a gas burner, only occasionally needing to build a fire, and enjoyed very warm to hot weather most days. It didn’t rain much at all (hence our water crises), and we were located on a peach orchard with all the peaches we could eat! This, roughin’ it? Yeah, I don’t think so. Towards the end of our trip we were bathing in a river and having to get creative with our rations, but I was pleased to prove to myself that I could live simply, and I loved the walking we had to do! We were in a valley so it was almost always a steep uphill climb to get anywhere we wanted to go, except down to the river. I was thankful for the hiking shoes mom bought me before we left the states *hi mom*

Ministry wise, we did a variety of things. The very first morning we climbed up to the village from our camp and “smeared” one of the mud huts. Actually, “mud” hut is kind of misleading...the components that went into our smearing mixture were mud, water, and cow poop. After it was mixed, we “smeared” it onto the interior wall of one of the rondavels. It smelled gross and felt gross, even through my thin rubber gloves. Todd opted to smear gloveless. Gloveless. What a man. We did other practical work as well, like learning to make Besotho (the name of the Lesotho culture) food, and cleaning for a very sick lady. 

We also did children’s programs at two schools, hosted a youth event at the camp, and led/assisted with the Sunday service for the two Sundays we were there. Todd preached for our first service and did a fabulous job, if I say so myself. 

The church was attached to a pre-school, so Monday-Friday morning there were lots of little kids running around. They were cute, and some of the team really enjoyed playing with them. After school hours, the camp often had lots of older children who came to play with the soccer balls (they didn’t actually play soccer with them) and with the visitors :) 

I have struggled the past couple of years with the idea of short-term missions. In my mind, proper evangelism goes beyond a few minutes or even a few days with people. It often takes time to evangelize, to explain to people who God is, how depraved we are, who Jesus is, and what his death accomplished. To do this accurately is vital, obviously. Often short term trips just focus on numbers, getting people to pray prayers. This was not my goal, so I had to figure what was. 

Todd and I both felt like we were there to support the work of the missionary family who is stationed in Hameletsani long-term. They are the ones who live there among the people, who regularly run the church, who are building relationships and trust and doing life with the Besotho. If we could help reinforce the basis of their lifestyle and increase their presence in the area, we were succeeding. 

I also found a method of door-to-door that I fully support. We spoke to one old lady who sat outside peeling peaches (a common sight). I prayed for her, and then we gave her a copy of the gospel of John in Sesotho (the Lesotho language). What a comprehensive way of spreading the truth! If the Lord will cause her to read it, and open her eyes to the truth within, she will know who God is and what he requires of her...belief in his Son! (see John 6). 

I was the appointed team photographer, but the images here were captured by both Todd and myself, with the one of the two of us taken by a teammate. Enjoy!

Besotho girls doing a traditional dance in traditional skirts. 

Todd preaching via his translator, Joyce. 

The team :) 

The teacher and children from the preschool attached to the church.

Peaches!

At one of the schools we visited, many of the Grade 1 students had pencils tied on a string around their neck. 

School uniforms.

Two of our teammates led a group of students in "Making Melodies," a song that involves gestures, each verse building until you look completely ridiculous, as seen here :) The kids love it!

The kids seemed to really find Issi's skin and hair to be quite fascinating.

More peaches! 

Todd got a little artistic...

Posing in front of the beautiful mountains!

Here the group is mixing up our "smearing" concoction. I didn't get in on that action...I mean, somebody had to take pictures, right?

Todd getting artsy again, this time with the incredible night sky. I loved stepping out in the evening to see the stars!

Todd and Hennie cooking over the fire. 

My favorite dried fruit experience: eating completely natural, hand cut, line dried peaches. Yum!

Long-drops :) 

More melody making :) 

I'll let you fill in the blank. 

Todd did some really great panoramas of our little valley...not to shabby, eh?