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Sad News

Journal Entry 12-16-11

For 22 years we had him. My only brother, my parents’ only son. He loved me in his own way, teasing, searching for music, sharing his thoughts. The last night I saw him, he took me out for ice cream. And then we had breakfast, the four of us, mom, dad, Josh, and me, and I got on a plane and left. And when I go back there will be no ice cream, no unicycling or juggling, no little-known music.

Oh Josh, I miss you. Maybe I didn’t write often or talk to you often, but I thought of you. Told people about you. I was proud of you, just for being who you are, my funny but responsible brother.

I don't understand. Well, a little. The feeling that you’re not going to make it, and that there’s no reason to fight anymore. That it would be better to be at rest with Jesus. But we would have done anything. If you had just asked, I would have come home. But you wouldn’t ask that. Didn’t want to be a burden, thought maybe we were too busy. I’m sorry if you thought that. I thought it about you. Didn’t want to be a pesky older sister, always trying to talk to her younger brother.

Oh Jesus, help us! He’s with you now. Please comfort us, since he’s not with us anymore.

For 22 years, I had a brother, here, on this earth. I have him still, but I won’t see him for a while. Just a little while. Please, make it fly.

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You are Daddy

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You are Daddy

This is one of my favorite Cameroonian worship songs. We sing it in French, so I've provided a translation. If you'd like to hear it, send me an e-mail and I can attach a recording of myself singing it. Dieu d'amour, Tu es Papa. Le Tout-Puissant est Papa. Le créateur est mon Père. Dieu d'amour, Tu es Papa. Mon Dieu je t'aime. (3x) Tu es mon Papa. God of love, You are Daddy. The Almighty is Daddy. The creator is my Father. God of love, You are Daddy. My God I love you (3x) You are my Daddy.

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Why manna's only good today

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Why manna's only good today

Last Saturday, August 20th, marked the one-year anniversary of my arrival in Cameroon. Feeling both blessed and accomplished, I decided to throw a small party for myself on Wednesday after school. I invited a motley assortment of friends: my boss, neighbor, and close friend Lois; the Korean PE teacher who recently moved to my area of town; the new Bible teacher at RFIS; and a good friend from Cameroon who coaches basketball at RFIS. Only after making these plans did I realize that I was the only U.S. citizen who would be there; my two Canadian colleagues formed the majority.

I look forward to coming home from school on Wednesdays to a kitchen full of fresh fruits and vegetables, purchased at the market and cleaned by my very efficient househelp, Doris. This week, I added chicken to my usual items including papayas, carrots, onions, and tomatoes. Cameroonians often serve chicken at celebrations, as it's more expensive than fish or beef, so I decided that I would follow that cultural norm. However, this was the first time I had asked Doris to buy a whole chicken in the market, and I wasn't sure what to expect. I've been to the main market a few times and smiled at the vendors gripping docile chickens by their feet. My stomach is strong, but I still didn't want to deal with feathers, so I wrote "1 whole chicken, cleaned" on my list and hoped for the best.

When I came home from school, the chicken was in Ziploc bag in my freezer because I still haven't explained the difference between the fridge and the freezer to Doris. Immediately, I shook my head-it still had its feet. "Okay," I calmed myself, "There's a lot of meat on the feet. Maybe I can boil them for broth." I pulled the chicken out, hoping it wasn't too solid yet, and started thawing it in the sink while I chopped and liquefied chiles for its sauce.

With the sauce ready, I steeled myself to hack the chicken into chunks that would fit into my frying pan. While maneuvering the bird so that I could chop off the feet, I flipped it over and jumped back, yelling to no one in particular, "It still has a head!" Only slightly disturbed, I continued my dismemberment, discovering along the way that the organs had been left in along with the head and the feet. I slipped them into a plastic bag with the head and feet and left Doris a note that she could take them home if she wanted them. It wouldn't be that hard to learn how to prepare and eat them, but sometimes I don't have the energy for such undertakings.

With the most unpleasant task over, I browned and simmered the bird, boiled rice with herbs, sliced an avocado and set out the table for my friends. Bursting with Mexican flavor, the chicken was a hit—one friend who doesn't even usually like chicken complimented me on it. It looks like this little adventure may need to be repeated.

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Hello baby Nina!

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Hello baby Nina!

This little girl, Essama Crossley Ann Nina, was just born to two of my best Cameroonian friends, Essama Alain Didier and his wife Chimaine. During her last two months of pregnancy, the doctors put Chimaine on bed rest, so many people prayed fervently for a safe delivery. Our prayers were answered on Tuesday, and this beautiful baby arrived. Yesterday I visited her and was amazed at her tiny perfection. She and her mother will come home on Monday. Thank you to everyone who prayed for her and her mother. Please continue praying that God will bless this family with his love and provision.

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What I do all day

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What I do all day

Thursdays are my busy days at school, so perhaps
they’re not the best picture of my work, but frankly, every day is a
busy day at RFIS.

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Celebrating a year of adventure

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Celebrating a year of adventure

Last Saturday, August 20th, marked the one-year anniversary of my arrival in Cameroon. Feeling both blessed and accomplished, I decided to throw a small party for myself on Wednesday after school. I invited a motley assortment of friends: my boss, neighbor, and close friend Lois; the Korean PE teacher who recently moved to my area of town; the new Bible teacher at RFIS; and a good friend from Cameroon who coaches basketball at RFIS. Only after making these plans did I realize that I was the only U.S. citizen who would be there; my two Canadian colleagues formed the majority. 

 I look forward to coming home from school on Wednesdays to a kitchen full of fresh fruits and vegetables, purchased at the market and cleaned by my very efficient househelp, Doris. This week, I added chicken to my usual items including papayas, carrots, onions, and tomatoes. Cameroonians often serve chicken at celebrations, as it's more expensive than fish or beef, so I decided that I would follow that cultural norm. However, this was the first time I had asked Doris to buy a whole chicken in the market, and I wasn't sure what to expect. I've been to the main market a few times and smiled at the vendors gripping docile chickens by their feet. My stomach is strong, but I still didn't want to deal with feathers, so I wrote "1 whole chicken, cleaned" on my list and hoped for the best. 

 When I came home from school, the chicken was in Ziploc bag in my freezer because I still haven't explained the difference between the fridge and the freezer to Doris. Immediately, I shook my head-it still had its feet. "Okay," I calmed myself, "There's a lot of meat on the feet. Maybe I can boil them for broth." I pulled the chicken out, hoping it wasn't too solid yet, and started thawing it in the sink while I chopped and liquefied chiles for its sauce. 

 With the sauce ready, I steeled myself to hack the chicken into chunks that would fit into my frying pan. While maneuvering the bird so that I could chop off the feet, I flipped it over and jumped back, yelling to no one in particular, "It still has a head!" Only slightly disturbed, I continued my dismemberment, discovering along the way that the organs had been left in along with the head and the feet. I slipped them into a plastic bag with the head and feet and left Doris a note that she could take them home if she wanted them. It wouldn't be that hard to learn how to prepare and eat them, but sometimes I don't have the energy for such undertakings. 

 With the most unpleasant task over, I browned and simmered the bird, boiled rice with herbs, sliced an avocado and set out the table for my friends. Bursting with Mexican flavor, the chicken was a hit—one friend who doesn't even usually like chicken complimented me on it. It looks like this little adventure may need to be repeated. 

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Je suis dans la joie

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Je suis dans la joie

This morning at a women's breakfast, we sang my favorite French worship song. It was the first time I had seen the words written down, which meant it was also the first time that I understood the first half. I wanted to share it with you, especially as we approach the celebration of Jesus' resurrection and our life and joy in him.

Je suis dans la joie

Je chanterai de tout cœur le merveilles de mon papa Yahweh
Il m’a ôté des ténèbres, il m’a délivré de tout pèche.
Mon Papa est fidèle ; il ne m’abandonne jamais.
Je n’ai plus rien à craindre car Yahweh m’a libéré.
Je suis dans la joie, une joie immense.
Je suis dans l’émotion car Yahweh m’a libéré.

I am in the joy

I will sing with all my heart the wonders of my dad Yahweh
He has removed me from darkness, he has delivered me from all sin.
I no longer have anything to fear because Yahweh has liberated me.
I am in the joy, an immense joy,
I am so excited because Yahweh has liberated me.

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I am wonderfully made

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I am wonderfully made

This week was Special Emphasis Week at the school, with a focus on Self Awareness. Within this theme, we shared a lot from Psalm 139, praying that the students would understand that they are created by God and very much beloved by him. On Thursday, the female teachers spoke to the girls about our worth in Christ, especially regarding our beauty. We read them Psalm 139: 14 "I will praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are your works, and that my soul knows very well."

In the afternoon, I met with my small group, which is composed of four Cameroonian students, one Korean, and one American. As we talked about the message in the morning, two of the Cameroonians mentioned that the verse reminded them of a song. I asked if they would sing it for me, and was almost in tears by the end at the beautiful way it summarized everything we had been talking about this week. I wish I could sing it for you, but the lyrics are as follows:

I am joyfully made.
I am wonderfully made.
I resemble God.
I belong to him.
That is why the devil trembles
Whenever he hears me say
I am God's own
and the apple of his eye.

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Friday Rhapsody

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Friday Rhapsody

The van opens like an oven. Hot air rolls over us, and we quickly slide open windows as we pile in. The crickets and birds beat a rhythm, God’s soundtrack to our departure. 

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Psalm 86

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Psalm 86

Life is hard and God is good. Those words have been my song through the last couple weeks. Sometimes I feel my "to do" list looming over me, waiting to crash down on my head if I miss planning for a class or responding to an e-mail, if I forget to pick up money or pay my househelp, if I miss an appointment or don't plan well for a speaking engagement. Psalm 86 expresses so well what I feel in those moments:

Psalm 86

A prayer of David.

1 Hear me, LORD, and answer me,
for I am poor and needy.
2 Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;
save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; 3 have mercy on me, Lord,
for I call to you all day long.
4 Bring joy to your servant, Lord,
for I put my trust in you.
5 You, Lord, are forgiving and good,
abounding in love to all who call to you.
6 Hear my prayer, LORD;
listen to my cry for mercy.
7 When I am in distress, I call to you,
because you answer me.
8 Among the gods there is none like you, Lord;
no deeds can compare with yours.
9 All the nations you have made
will come and worship before you, Lord;
they will bring glory to your name.
10 For you are great and do marvelous deeds;
you alone are God.
11 Teach me your way, LORD,
that I may rely on your faithfulness;
give me an undivided heart,
that I may fear your name.
12 I will praise you, Lord my God, with all my heart;
I will glorify your name forever.
13 For great is your love toward me;
you have delivered me from the depths,
from the realm of the dead.
14 Arrogant foes are attacking me, O God;
ruthless people are trying to kill me—
they have no regard for you.
15 But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God,
slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.
16 Turn to me and have mercy on me;
show your strength in behalf of your servant;
save me, because I serve you
just as my mother did.
17 Give me a sign of your goodness,
that my enemies may see it and be put to shame,
for you, LORD, have helped me and comforted me.

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Bannerman's Turaco

Sarah Dorsey D'13 asked, "What is the coolest animal you've seen so far?" Bannerman's Turaco

I haven't sought out animals all that much yet. In February, I'm taking a trip to the far north, so I'll hopefully get to check out the animal reserve while I'm there. However, I did see this really awesome bird in near Bamenda at Lake Awing. I didn't get a picture of it myself, but it was about the size of a large hawk, with lots of scarlet, blue and green.

It turns out that the guy who lived below me in Yaoundé is a birding hobbiest. According to him, it turns out that the bird is a very rare species called Bannerman's Turaco. It lives only in the area around Lake Awing in the northwest region of Cameroon. Pretty cool, huh?

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Insert Prompt

I'm an "educated", young, aesthetically-oriented techie who actually enjoys writing. Blogging should be my thing. But, as you can see, I haven't found the time or motivation to update in quite some time. Yet at the same time, I've had no problems responding to friends' well-scoped questions.

And so, I have an assignment for you. Give me a prompt. You know, like the ones you used to get in high school when they forced you to write essays. Questions that give short answers are fine, but try to ask me a bigger, open-ended questions that's been on your mind. You can give it to me by posting it as a comment or emailing it to me.

Here are a few examples of what you might ask:

  • Malaria? Wha really?
  • What do you like best about Cameroon? Do you think you'll go back ever?
  • How has being there affected your life plans?
  • Do you have a car? or a bike? or do you ride the city buses? or taxis? or little mules?
  • What is the first thing you're going to do when you get back to America?
  • What is the coolest animal you've seen so far?

In turn, I'll post the prompt and my response to it as an new blog entry in the weeks to come. Consider it my New Years' resolution.

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