Arriving in Oditel

I am attempting to transition back into home life now. I am determined to get some blogs posted before my memories start to dim:

As our bus drove through the dirt roads and started to get closer to the village of Oditel, we were noticed with excitement by the people outside. Word spread quickly that we were arriving. Kids started chasing our bus. The "mzungus" --white people-- were here! We were swarmed with hugs and smiles and cheers of joy. The children just wanted to hold our hands and be near us. It was great to see the familiar faces of the Mission 6 team that had been there, working before us, for the last month. All of us were escorted into the church hut so that we could receive the welcome they had prepared for us. Such beautiful songs and such joy coming at us. Most of us had a few little ones on our laps and several others near or staring at us I had Mahsa. She would be with me all week. It was wonderful!

My goal had been to watch and listen and stay quiet (not a normal thing for me). I truly wanted to be open to what this trip was about for me. We headed out to see the projects that others had worked on before us. There is a garden that had been worked on and planted in May. The kitchen was coming along nicely. We attempted to communicate with our new friends, but that was difficult (besides "hi" and "what is your name"). I began to look for Isaac, the teenage boy that we sponsor. Jason had picked out his picture at church a few months before. I asked Deb, who had been living in the village since July. "Do you know many boys named Isaac?" As I said his name, I caught the attention of a tall young man close by. Within my first 30 minutes in Oditel, I had found our Isaac. With the help of Gabriel, who could speak English, I let Isaac know that our family sponsors him--we pray for him and see his photo every day. The response that came back to me (through Gabriel) was "I do not know how to say  thank you".  Later, Deb told me that she had been seeing Isaac everyday for the last few weeks at the care point, where they served the meal each day. She had not seen him smile until the day before we arrived. Throughout my time in the village, I never saw him without a smile :) I can still see his smile and it is a beautiful sight. I would later meet his mother, some of his sisters, and his twin brothers (who were about 8 mos and very afraid of me). When I arrived at their home, I was greeted by Isaac who was sweeping a swirl pattern in the dirt outside his home. I was offered freshly roasted ground nuts and many "thank yous" from his mother. The generosity and joy that came out of these people who had so little was overwhelming. All of us from Kalamazoo were treated like we were so special. This would haunt me over the next several days and continues to do so.

Our team stayed inside a compound, similar to a campground. There was a gate around it that the children could not enter. They would gather outside bright and early and wait for us to come out. One morning, as we were sitting in a circle and having devotions, Isaac boldly came in the gate. He had a bag for me. It was full of freshly roasted ground nuts that had been cooked in a fire. After handing them to me, he quickly walked back out of the gate. I was moved by his gesture and thought it appropriate that the young man we sponsor would have a rebellious streak. It runs in the family :)

I had expected to hold little babies and speak to their mothers/caregivers for the week. I definitely held some children, but most of my time was spent with boys ranging from 11-15. I was frustrated by not being able to have conversations with them. There was so much I wanted to know and couldn't ask. They laughed when I tried. I asked if they had a ball so we could play catch. They did not have an "impedo", but they all quickly worked to gather pieces of garbage bags and string from the ground to make one. They would tie knots and piece things together until we had a ball to play with. Aaaaah. Once we started playing catch and trying to keep the ball in the air, doors were opened for us to communicate. I would pitch windmill style or like a baseball player and they would mimic it. I would show them how to "pop it" off my elbow and throw the ball up and catch it behind my back. We laughed and were silly and they would ask me to show them something else. I could not help but be reminded of all of the times I had played with my dad. My dad had taught me everything I had shared with them. I imagined my daddy watching me from Heaven and smiling down on all of us. It is not typical for older girls to play with older boys there. They seemed surprised that I could keep up. Cannot tell you how many hours we spent communicating this way during my time. Cannot tell you how much I loved it!