"Much to learn, you still have": Reflecting on 6 months in Niamey

At the end of November, I will have been here for 6 months. Besides "going away" to college (which was 86 miles from home, so I was able to visit whenever I wanted), this is the longest amount of time that I have been away from my family. I have been reflecting on a lot of the lessons that I've learned, both hard and good, both fun and surprising. Here are some of them:

Stormy's airplane limit is 5.5 hours in his pet carrier. He much prefers public transportation, such as buses and trains.

On the train in Paris

Keys to surviving hot season in Niger: air-conditioned movie theater, battery-powered fan, cooling pads, keeping the ice tray full, pool membership, kiddie pool (for when the pool is closed), occasional rehydration drinks (1 tsp sugar, pinch of salt, juice of 1 small lime or 1/2 lemon in a full glass of water)...

I can be convinced to become a cat person.


Indian curry potato chips. Enough said.

"I know I have no power to change an individual's worldview." -Kate McCord, In the Land of Blue Burqas. I'm reading this book alongside other new missionaries and our mentors, and it's not necessarily a new lesson, but a good reminder, that my job is to share love and hope and let the Holy Spirit do the work of transformation.

It can hail in the middle of the desert.


Everything is not as it seems. This one hurts my heart to share, but since it is firsthand experience, I will say it. Samaritan's Purse has had a strong ministry here for many years, and they do varied and wonderful things, like support our local pastors. Without knowing who exactly is to blame, friends here have found Operation Christmas Child shoeboxes for sale in the local markets. And it's not only here; friends of friends have reported the same story in Kenya. I would just like to advise that if you'd like to donate material things, like clothes and toys, your local organizations are far better equipped to distribute them. When you desire to contribute to a project overseas, we can generally be more efficient and effective if you would give a monetary donation, and we could use that to buy supplies locally.

As a woman in Niger, you're not fully dressed unless you're wearing earrings. I really need to keep an "emergency pair" in my purse, in case I forget to put them on in the morning! It's a good thing that I'm not married, because in some cultures here, a married woman who neglects to wear earrings is signaling that her husband has died.

My collection has grown considerably...

Stormy is excellent at hide-and-seek. He waits and I hide, then he finds me. It's adorable.

Nigeriens take things quite literally. For example, if you ask an American schoolboy or -girl what color is the sky, 99% would say blue (except that cheeky one). A Nigerien of any age will tell you that the sky is white. When I look up, I have to agree! The Nigerien sky is usually white!

I've enjoyed learning many styles of tying head scarves!

Africans place a high value on the gift of "presence" even if the language barrier cannot be breached. When a widow is grieving, you go and sit at her house. When it's meal time, you share with coworkers or friends. Silence is OK, it's the sitting that counts.

Asking a taxi driver in Niamey to show up at 8:40am means he might come by 9:30am, but only if you call to remind him at least 2 times.

I can make kombucha...the gift that keeps on giving! (With each batch brewed, the scoby grows, and can be passed onto a friend to brew his/her own batch!)

Ice cube trays aren't just for making ice. I have frozen chicken broth in them (to save for recipes or for a treat for Stormy) and used them to make protein balls!

It takes about 950,000F cfa to throw a wedding ceremony in Niger (just under $1,700 US), which could take a man employed full-time in Niamey up to 2 years to save.

Just because I can now understand French, doesn't mean that I can understand everyone's different French dialect/accent...

Represented here are French speakers from America, Niger, France, and Germany

One of my favoritest things here is the clothes shopping process, which involves 1) mental preparation for sensory overload, 2) taking a friend (and possibly the friend's husband as driver/bag carrier) to a local market to pick out fabric, 3) getting ideas for what you want made from other ladies or pictures online, 4) going to the tailor to have him/her take measurements and create the items in EXACTLY your size, and 5) picking them up and trying them on to be sure they fit as expected. No more seeing something and thinking it's cute on the hanger, but discovering it looks horrible on you! It's the tailor's responsibility to tweak each thing until you're happy with the fit.


There is a difference between spending time with the Lord with a motive/expectation, and spending time out of the joy of being in His presence. I recently read Lon Allison's biography of the Reverend Billy Graham, "An Ordinary Man and His Extraordinary God," and it is said that Billy regretted spending too much time studying the Word with an agenda, always thinking of preparing for his next sermon, and not enough time simply BEING with the Lord. This resonated with me and I'm trying to examine my emotions and capture my thoughts before sitting down.

Are you like a pumpkin?

Over a week ago, my friends and I gathered for what we called “Fall Festivities.” We brought potluck dinner and I helped decorate the table with an appropriate theme!

One friend brought all the pumpkins (well, squash, anyway) and after dinner, the carving commenced! We are quite an international group, so we Americans tried to explain to those from Australia, Italy, Brazil, Ethiopia, how we traditionally celebrate Halloween in the US. We shared some of our favorite costumes (mine was a bag of jellybeans, which I made from a clear dry cleaning bag stuffed with inflated colorful water balloons) and reminisced about favorite candy. 

I made vegan caramel apples (remarkably easy and delicious recipe here!) and apple cider for everyone. (Later at home I also made my first ever batch of apple butter from the leftover pulp—yum!)

 After that evening, I came across this lovely analogy of carving pumpkins to God’s work of sanctification in our lives:

• God picks you from the patch and brings you in (John 15:16),

• Then He washes all the dirt off of you (2 Corinthians 5:17),

• He opens you up and scoops out all the yucky stuff, removing the seeds of doubt, hate, greed, etc (Romans 6:6),

• Then He carves you a new smiling face (Psalm 71:23),

• And He puts His light inside you to shine for all the world to see (Matthew 5:16).

Christians kidnapped in Africa

We rejoice that our brother Andrew Brunson has been released from a Turkish prison! He was arrested on false charges of treason and imprisoned for two years, because he is a Christian missionary. Now I ask for prayers for two other Christians held against their will: Jeff Woodke and Father Pierluigi Maccalli.

Photo credit: Facebook/Blaise Gaidout

Jeff is an American missionary who was working with the Niger branch of YWAM. He was abducted from a northern village on October 14, 2016, and was only recently confirmed alive. Today marks 2 years since he was taken. Please pray for his safety and health, for the negotiation of his return, and for his wife, Els Woodke.

Photo credit: Society of African Missions

Father Pierluigi is an Italian Catholic priest who had been working in a small village called Bomoanga near the Burkina Faso border since 2002. According to a Niamey newspaper, he was well-loved in the village because he cared for all of their children as his own, feeding the hungry and organizing medical evacuations for those who needed surgeries outside of Niger's limited hospital resources. He had built a small church in the village that was known as the "Basilica of the Poor," and it is said that his door was open 24/7 to those who had need. He was abducted by militants between 9-10pm on September 17, 2018. Please pray that he can return unharmed to his village.

You might wonder, what is SIM Niger's response to such attacks against Westerners? We have two principles: pray, and act wisely. We turn to Nehemiah 4:9, which says, "But we prayed to our God and guarded the city day and night to protect ourselves." We pray AND we post guards. We lock our doors, we don't travel into dangerous areas unless absolutely necessary, we keep an eye out for unusual activity, we register with the US Embassy, we don't go out alone after dark. I'm willing to be here because God has led me here, but I also don't take unnecessary risks. I always appreciate your prayers for my safety, and I pray for you, too; for protection from natural disasters, for an end to the gun violence in Chicago, for safety while traveling. Pray, and act wisely.

Healing changes everything

While I’ve been growing in ability and confidence with my French language study, I’ve been dipping my toes into my ministry here as an occupational therapist by making connections with healthcare professionals and the community of those living in Niamey with disabilities. I want to show you some of the places where great medical care is taking place, and where I hope to find learning opportunities and also pass on my expertise in rehabilitation.

 

Through my mentor Deb, I met Mr. Harouna Ousmane, a coach for the Niger Paralympics team and an advocate for the disabled community. He invited us to come to the games for the International Day of Peace on September 21, particularly to see the handbike races. On a morning that dawned a typical 90°F, the women raced around the soccer stadium three times, and the men, four times, propelled only by the strength of their upper bodies. People, the maximum exercise I’ve done in the Niamey heat is strolling around the stadium two times, okay? I probably couldn’t even make it half a kilometer in a handbike.

The next week, Mr. Harouna Ousmane introduced us to his contacts at the National Hospital, who run a very impressive orthotic/prosthetic clinic, funded by the Red Cross of Geneva. We met Mr. Mohamed, a Moroccan orthotist in charge of the clinic, and Mr. Wage, the physiotherapist for the hospital. There are maybe six other staff working in the clinic, including two leather workers who make custom shoes and specialists in plaster and prostheses. I am hoping to develop a partnership with Mr. Mohamed in the future, so that I can learn more about prosthetics from such an esteemed expert.

For now, I’ve started working in the therapy departments at CURE Hôpital des Enfants au Niger and at Clinique Olivia. On Wednesday mornings, I go to CURE and work alongside their physiotherapist, Sodogaz, and his assistant, Saley. CURE is a pediatric hospital, run by a Christian NGO, and they primarily treat orthopedic conditions like Rickett’s, club foot, fractures, and cleft lip/palate. You can watch a documentary about CURE on YouTube by clicking here: "Modern Day Miracles." (If you don’t want to watch the whole thing, I highly recommend at least the first 6 minutes; you’ll hear the purpose and passion behind CURE and see some footage of CURE Niger.)

Issaka, Greg and Peace working with a patient

On Saturday mornings, I go to Clinique Olivia and work with Issaka, a blind physiotherapist. The Clinique and its nursing/physiotherapy school are supported by a local church and the majority of their staff are African. They have had difficulty finding qualified teachers for the physiotherapy program, but they have a partnership with an American university that will send professors here in January and February of 2019. For the past week we have also hosted Greg, an American PT who visits Niger every year, as he teaches us his skills in assessing and treating orthopedic injuries. I was spoiled because Peace was there to help translate for Greg, which meant I could get away with using translation, too; otherwise, as at CURE, I’m only speaking French with staff and patients. At the end of a few hours, my brain is overwhelmed!

The motto at CURE Niger is “La guerison change tout,” or “Healing changes everything,” and in this culture, it is especially true. Here in Niger, as in Jesus’ time, visible disabilities (whether physical or mental) are generally looked upon as a curse. Disabled people are unclean. Most Nigeriens believe that a child born with a disability or congenital deformity has either been cursed by Allah, the god of Islam, due to some sin the parents have committed, or he/she was cursed by a local shaman, paid by a vengeful neighbor or acquaintance in retribution for some offense the parents committed. As such, the child may be abandoned by his/her parents, or if not, surely shunned by the rest of the village; even if living in a city, people with disabilities are rarely given opportunities to go to school or to work and are often seen living and begging on the streets. Jesus welcomed all of these people into His presence. He touched the untouchables. And when he healed their physical wounds, he made their lives whole again. He changed everything (see Mark 5:25-34, Mark 1:40-45, John 9:1-12, Luke 5:17-39). As a healthcare professional, I can bring the same hope to Nigeriens for physical healing and acceptance into society. As a Christian, I can offer them so much more: the Living Water that forever satisfies, and a new identity as a child of God. I am so thankful for the opportunity to do both here in Niamey.

Home is where the heart is

"Home" means something different to everyone. It certainly takes on a variety of physical appearances. And some people say they come from a certain place, because they were born there, or they spent the majority of their childhood there, so that place is home because it played a significant part in their growing up. But I have been reflecting on the transience of home, in light of the characters of the Bible that struggled to find a place to stay: Moses and the Israelites, Abraham, Joseph, Ruth, David, Jesus, his 12 disciples, Paul, and the majority of the early Christian church who were persecuted and therefore scattered, running for their lives.

Listen to this passage that I've never previously noticed: "After this Paul left Athens and went to Corinth. And he found a Jew named Aquila, a native of Pontus, recently come from Italy with his wife Priscilla, because Claudius had commanded all the Jews to leave Rome. And he went to see them, and because he was of the same trade he stayed with them and worked, for they were tentmakers by trade" (Acts 18:1-3). Paul was called to the life of a roving missionary, but Aquila and Priscilla were called to a life as refugees, due to religious persecution. These misfits made a home together out of mutual love for God, shared careers, and sheer desperation. It makes me incredibly grateful to have arrived in Niamey with 10 trunks of possessions and an apartment waiting for me.

I know that I don't belong here, because many things about the cultures of various Nigerien people groups are so foreign to me, but at the same time it has been a long time since I've felt that I belonged in the United States of America. It probably began with my first overseas trip, to Ireland, in 2007. After that, I visited Egypt in 2008, Spain and Morocco in 2011, Costa Rica in 2013, and Ethiopia in 2014. And nothing "felt right" until I went to Soddo Christian Hospital, and the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart, "This could be home." But one thing led to another, and I'm on a slight detour to Niger before I can make it back to Soddo. But I finally set foot in the CURE pediatric hospital of Niamey two Thursdays ago, and there was a humming, a quickening of my spirit to connect with the Spirit of healing in that place. And I guess I'll never find a sense of belonging again, until I arrive in my heavenly home, but for now, I'm just happy to be a tentmaker with a place to ply my trade, tell my stories, and lay my head at the end of the day.

When it rains, it pours

I'm learning that Niger doesn't do things halfway. When it's hot, it's over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. And when it rains, we get 2.5 inches in a span of 4 hours. When it rains, it pours. Then it floods everything and washes away homes (made with mud and straw), killing both people and animals.

credit Boureima Hama/Agence France-Presse

While I'm thankful for my secure apartment, I also feel like I'm "treading water" in the flood of my current circumstances. I've been struggling with frequent migraines, which seem to be mostly related to the fluctuating humidity, and my friend passed away in the States, and last Monday, I was the victim of a sneaky theft in a taxi. The driver and passenger worked together to distract me so that the passenger could take my wallet and my phone from my purse without my knowledge. It was such a disappointing and frustrating experience. Fortunately, I don't carry anything important on me (no one takes credit cards here, if you can imagine that back in the States!), and I didn't lose much cash. I was even able to recover all of my pictures with my Google account. I will get a new phone next week from a fellow traveler who is returning to Niamey.

I learned from African friends that the incidence of crime around Niamey increases before holidays, such as now before Tabaski (the local name for the Muslim holiday of Eid-al-Adha). It puts a lot of strain on each family to buy the required sheep for sacrifice (between 40,000-60,000 cfa, or $69-104 US equivalent). So, my friends explained, a lot of them turn to theft in desperation, in order to avoid the shame of failing to provide the sacrifice. They were not excusing the behavior, but they warned me to continue to be more vigilant. Speaking of sheep, the local cell phone carriers are holding multiple contests to give away sheep leading up to the holiday on Wednesday. I have not entered any of them, for the record.

When I look at the reason for the holiday, to commemorate Abraham's submission to God's will and celebrate God's provision of a suitable sacrifice in place of Abraham's son, I shake my head in frustration, that some people have twisted the spirit behind the holiday and resort to thievery instead of trusting in God's continued provision. But it is the same with many of our American holidays, is it not?

So what do we do in the flood? We grasp the hand of the One who walks on water. And then we splash in the puddles.

image: "Hand of God" by Yongsung Kim

Goodbye, my friend

Today they are burying my friend in Minnesota, and I am an ocean away. (Here is her obituary.)

I was friends with Wendy for about seven years, since we got to know each other through the Young Adult group at Wheaton Bible, or the class formerly known as Ecclesia. I gravitated toward her warm smile and we found out that we had a lot in common. We both loved our rescue dogs, we were both fascinated by biology and God’s purposeful creation of the human body, we both loved watching movies and were learning to knit, we both had sweet tooths, and we both loved Jesus. We enjoyed going out to eat together… she was famous for ordering a big stack of chocolate chip pancakes! We loved taking our dogs, Stormy and Angel, to Red Mango for frozen yogurt. Wendy was an avid sports fan, especially for the Green Bay Packers and the Chicago Bulls, and you could count on her to know the score of last night’s game. Speaking of games, she had a competitive streak! If you had dominoes, watch out! One of our favorite memories was going to the Cascade Drive-In to see “Wonder Woman”… Stormy and Angel loved it, too! We also went to a couple of Newsboys concerts, since they are her favorite band, and I’ll never forget how we screamed and jumped up and down when we saw their drummer lift up in the air and spin vertically, while drumming to “God’s Not Dead!” I can only imagine that Wendy had about the same reaction when she met Jesus face to face.

Wendy and I were in the same small group for over four years, and when I would give her a ride, we would discuss how our lives were going, our hopes and fears, the difficulties we were facing as we followed our Lord. We could sit in her driveway for an hour after small group just talking. She told me that God had called her to help people by becoming a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA), and I shared my calling to missions with her. I knew that she had more obstacles to overcome than most, but with her passion for studying medicine and with lots of prayer, she found a fulfilling career. I am humbled by her determination and perseverance through it all. When she told me that she got up at 4am every Sunday in order to work the camera at WBC, I was amazed by her dedication. I will miss our talks in the car, I will miss her smile and her sense of humor, I will miss all of the sweet messages that she would send me to let me know she was thinking about me in Africa, and I will even miss her giggle when she beat me at a game… but most of all, I will miss her hugs. I am not very good at asking for hugs, but that didn’t matter, because Wendy was great at giving them.

This morning, I ate chocolate chip pancakes in her honor.

One day, we will eat them together again, with Jesus our Lord.