Traditional Swazi Wedding

I traveled to South Africa this past weekend to join my Swazi friends at a wedding. It was quite the wonderful experience! I learned a few good lessons though...

1) Never travel alone with a bus full of Swazis if you want to be on time. Again...I am learning patience. It was such a loooong trip, but well worth it. There were about 20 of us total in the bus to SA. They were mostly made up of gogos and makes (grandmothers and mothers) and a few people my age. We had a few problems at the border...someone had one of the gogo's passport and was already in SA and another man's passport had just expired a few days earlier. Luckily, he talked them into letting him through (bribed them).

2) I need to learn SiSwati. I now know what it is like to feel alone in a crowded room. I was totally lost all weekend because they all spoke SiSwati all the time, and I never knew what was going on. So I'm trying to learn from a book...but it is so hard.

3) Do NOT ask what food is on your plate. I made this mistake on Saturday night. Friday night was a more westernized-wedding, where the bride wore the white dress, there were bridesmaids and groomsmen, etc...but Saturday they had a traditional celebration (more on that later). So after the traditional celebration I was so hungry because we hadn't hardly anything all day. I got in line to eat and they served us pap (like a malt-o-meal-ish thing), spicy beans, meat, a weird kind of bread (I didn't ask about that...I just ate it.), and more meat-ish... My friend Ncobile laughed when she saw me poking around things on the plate. I was really trying not to be rude, so I was trying hard to look like I wanted to eat it; but she saw right through me. "I dare you to eat everything on your plate," she laughed. That's when I knew I was eating something weird.

"Okay, what IS this?" I pointed to the meat-ish thing (that I had already taking a bite of and found it very slimy and hard to chew).

"MK, those are the insides of a cow," the bride told me matter-of-factly. "It's good!"

"Oh..." I smile. Suddenly, my stomach is not growling anymore. But I kept eating. For those of you who know me...I can be quite the picky eater. I ended up finishing everything on my plate...except...the cow intestines. I tried, I really did. I ate another two bites after I found out what it was, but on the third forkful, I started gaging and couldn't swallow it. I looked around to make sure no one was watching me and (I know this is so bad...but I thought better out of my mouth now than puking it out later) I spit it into my hand. But hey...at least I can say that I tried cow intestines now.

The wedding itself was awesome. The bride is from Swaziland and the groom from South AFrica, so they had this Swazi-Zulu battle thing with song and dance. It was so neat. At one point the Zulu people come and "kidnap" the bride (who the Swazis were "hiding") and take her to the Zulu side...then the Swazis come and take both the bride and groom... and it goes back and forth like that.

It was a neat experience. The gogos even had me put on the traditional Swazi cloth and loved that I looked "Swazi."

Also, since meat is such a delicacy here...on Sunday, they had meat for breakfast...meat for lunch...both with the new "inlaws." Now, when I say meat... I mean like fresh off the bone with lots of fat. Again, I couldn't be picky so I ate some meat I probably would not have before. And I am paying for it today because I have a bad tummy ache along with the runs. Oh, and to make matters worse, our water is out at the house today.. NOT a good time to NOT be able to flush the toilet when you have the runs. Speaking of which...

Titi, Tiny, and Tenele

I am so humbled by the love my Swazi friends have shown me. They are seriously the most selfless people I have ever met. I am amazed by them, and I learn something new about love and faith from them every day. I wish you all could meet them. They would change your life, like they’ve changed mine. I could go on and on about each one (Musa, Lelo, Cynthia, Ncobile, and Titi) but to spare you from my babbling, I’m going to tell you about Titi.

Titi has gone out of her way numerous times to help me with whatever I needed to do. She also makes sure I am safe. For example, one afternoon I was going to walk to Mangwaneni but it was already late afternoon so she told me she wouldn't let me go but if I could wait for the next day, she would change her plans and walk me to Mangwaneni to make sure I'm safe. She literally drops her plans to do anything for me. And people just don't do that so readily in the States like they do here, so it's quite refreshing to be among such selflessness. Titi has been instrumental in helping me find Tenele as well. So, here's the story...

Titi came with me one day to Mangwaneni so she could translate as I asked Iyanda (one of Tenele's old friends) about where to find Tenele. I had hoped that Tenele would've somehow shown up by now, but since she hadn't, I was determined to go out looking for her. Through conversation with Iyanda, Titi found out that Iyanda didn't know where Tenele was but she did know a young girl who had previously lived with Tenele. Titi told her to go fetch the girl and come back. We had no idea who this girl was or if she would even come. But we waited there…and waited... I honestly had no faith the girl would come. "I don't think they are coming, Titi," I finally said.

Titi told me, “Mary-Kate, just be patient.” She had told Iyanda to bring the young girl to us before 5:00 because that's when we had to leave. So we waited longer. I always thought I was okay at being patient, but ever since I have been back in Swazi, I've realized I am quite horrible at it. So I tried to be more patient as we waited.

Sure enough, at 5:02 three girls came up the path. Iyanda and her friend brought a teenaged girl named Tiny. Apparently, Tiny had lived with Tenele and was also a prostitute but she ended up finding her way back home. Titi talked to her and arranged for us to meet on Thursday at 1:00 so that Tiny could take us to Tenele.

Thursday Sept. 16th:

I woke up at 6:45 and went to mass with my roommate Carolyn. I was super excited about the day. I prayed and put my trust in the Lord’s hands. Instead of going to school this morning (because Ryan went back to say goodbye to his classes, so I didn’t need to be there) I did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, swept the living room floor and the hallway, and checked my room again for cockroaches.

At a little bit to 1:00 I drove to the AIM office and pulled in just in time to catch Musa on his way out. We talked for a little bit and he prayed for our adventure to find Tenele. Titi and I then ventured out to Mangwaneni to hope that Tiny would show up at the kitchen like we had planned. We arrived and she wasn’t there. Honestly, I wasn’t really expecting her to come. But I knew we could find her if we needed to. I hung out with the kids as they fought for who could hold my hand, and they begged, “tata” which makes "take me” (pick me up).

A few minutes later, when I was completely distracted and content with waiting on the Lord, Tiny shows up. I was honestly surprised as heck to see her. I was so happy. So we drove off and Tiny directed us (through Titi’s translation) to where Tenele stayed. It was quite the off-roading adventure. The dirt road was bumpy and uphill. My heart was starting to pound. I felt like the father in the Bible story of the Prodigal Son, except the fact that Tenele wasn’t coming back, I was going looking for her. Finally, Tiny directed us to stop. We parked, climbed out, and walked down the dirt path towards a homestead. Up ahead I saw a group of girls around Tanele’s age; when they looked up and saw us approaching, they scattered, and disappeared into one of the huts. I couldn’t see Tenele from how far back we were, but I heard a delightful scream and a young girl came charging down the dirt path. IT WAS TENELE!!! ...literally charging down the road and kicking up dust with her bare feet. It was seriously like a movie! She ran full force into my arms, nearly plowing me over! It felt like my child had come back to me-- like the father of the prodigal son.

Titi and I talked with her and her friend a little while. They braided half my head (we ran out of time) but it was so nice just being there with her. I told her that I was going to take some other kids out for lunch after school on Friday and invited her to come along, which of course she joyously accepted.

Friday, Sept. 17th

I met Tenele and her friend Khanisile as we waited for Pununu, Sphilile, and Temu to walk back from school. We had a lovely lunch at "Nando's" (a personal favorite chicken restaurant). Because Tenele was with her friend, I couldn't get a whole lot of information from her. But I invited her to Mantenga Falls the following day. After Tenele said she would come, I was looking forward to having more conversation with her the next day. But she never showed up. However, Sunday night I received a few phone calls from an odd number...I had previously given Tenele my phone number (even though she didn't have a phone) just in case she had access to one and could call me. On Monday morning, while I was teaching, I received another 6 missed calls from that same number. Must be Tenele, I thought.

Sure enough...the phone call was from Tenele! She walked into town that day to meet me at my house. She brought two friends this time, Khansile and Nomphilo, both around 14 years old. As we walked around town that Monday, I finally got more information out of Tenele. I had asked her different questions about where she was staying and what she was doing... but she refused to give me an honest answer. I took the girls to the MYC office to talk to someone about how to get the three girls enrolled in school. Last year, when I talked to Tenele about it, she didn't want to go to school, but this year, that was one of the first things she said to me... "Mary-Kate, I want to go to school." After the office visit, I realized it was going to be so much harder to get her in school because there were so many things I didn't know about her life. Finally, I stopped her, had her look directly at me and said, "Tenele, you need to tell me the truth about these things otherwise I can't help you. I need to know the truth."

She nodded her head in agreement. As I asked different questions again, she was much more honest. I found out her and her friend Khansile are still in prostitution, or the way she said it, "selling their bodies", but she said her other friend Nomphilo is too afraid. Tenele asked me if I wanted to meet her sister and I said of course. So, at the end of the afternoon, Tenele walked me to Siyabonga bar, where her sister works (and apparently where Tenele and Khansile do, too). We walked through the bus rank, and I felt sick. The way the guys looked at the three young girls with me was so disgusting. We got near the bar and stopped. Tenele told her friends to go fetch her sister while we waited there. So it was just me, Tenele, and another girl Iyanda. A group of guys started coming over upon recognizing Tenele. One older man came after Tenele and she screamed and hid behind me. The man still kept coming, trying to get to her through me, so I shoved him in the stomach. It was 4 p.m. and it literally smelled like he had taken a bath in alcohol; he was so drunk. He left and the other guys stopped approaching when they saw me trying to protect Tenele. But one guy yelled to me, "Hey umlungu! (white person) How much are these ones?!" (referring to the girls.) I was so mad; I wanted to punch someone. I pretended not to hear them and continued talking to the girls and pretending that I wasn’t scared. I probably would’ve punched someone if I wasn’t so outnumbered. It was the first time I felt unsafe since I've been back in Swazi.

When I left the girls that night, I was so distraught. It was finally real for me. How in the world can I help these girls get out of this lifestyle?

Step by step. It's been really hard the past few days with Tenele. She has such a hard edge and is so mean to others sometimes (and to me). But she is still so starving for true love. She can be really hard to love sometimes, but in my prayer the other day, these words kept coming to mind: "love her anyway...love her anyway." What can I do to help? Love her.

"Love one another DEEPLY from the heart..."

1 Peter 1:22

Week in Review

Stuck in the ghetto:

Ryan and I have made several trips to our old carepoint Mangwaneni (a carepoint is a feeding center for OVCs [orphans and vulnerable children]). Ryan made me drive to the carepoint so I could get used to the opposite side driving in Swazi. It was a little scary at first, but not too bad. It definitely keeps me focused… that’s for sure. Since he was reminding me to stay on the left and I was quite zeroed in on the road, neither of us noticed the low gas gauge. So after hanging out with the kids in the evening, we climbed back into the van when it got dark and started the car…only to find out there was not even a bit of juice left in it. “Awesome, stranded in the ghetto of Manzini at night,” Ryan retorts. There are still kids outside our van, climbing on it and banging on windows, asking us to unlock it. Ryan calls for back up, and another volunteer says he will bring us some petrol in a little while. In other circumstances, I might have been a little scared to be there that late, but honestly, no one’s going to mess with Ryan…so we were alright. The Mangwaneni kids are the most creative people I know; for example, while we were waiting in the van, the boys were THRILLED with our head lights. Ryan would switch them on and off and they boys started jumping around singing, “Yebo! Yebo! Yebo!” They could’ve entertained themselves like that for hours. Luckily, we weren’t sitting there for hours.

More about Mangwaneni

While we are on the topic of Mangwaneni (aka: the ghetto), I didn’t realize how horrible of a place it was until now. I knew it was a little dangerous, but I didn’t really think it was that bad of a place. But one of my Swazi friends, Cynthia, said she would rather go to the most rural parts of Swazi than go to Mangwaneni. It’s a squatter camp, meaning it’s a community full of huts and cement blocks for houses, where families are crammed into one room shelters with usually no furniture or no beds, whatsoever. So here I was complaining about a broken mattress and sore back this week, when I need to be grateful I even have one, and more grateful I don’t have to share it with others. I was talking to Temu (13 year old girl who lives there) and she was saying that she hates living there. She said there are too many thieves and lots of alcohol. She was telling me more about Tanele’s step-mom and how she was drunk nearly every day. Temu said her mom would say let’s go over to Tanele’s mom’s and visit, and Temu would refuse to go because she was afraid of her. Also, I found out that the older men at the squatter camp would have sex with the girls, and that’s what started the “tree line” (which we learned about the first summer when I came on the mission trip with AIM). Basically, the tree line was near Mangwaneni where young girls would go to prostitute themselves for money. But it wasn’t just the girls. The children started having sex with one another “just for fun”, and that’s when GuGu stepped in and started a free school for them so they would stop. (GuGu is a whole different, wonderful story. She is the one who inspired me to come back and to want to build another free school.)

Photo book big hit

I made a photobook before I left that had some of my pictures from Swaziland as well as my poems. I brought it to show some of the kids who are in the book, like Mlandvo, Temu, Pununu, the twins, etc…. When I pulled it out to show Temu, kids were grabbing and grabbing at it, wanting to see it for themselves. They absolutely LOVED it! They loved seeing the people they know, people like them, in an actual book! Although the young ones couldn’t read a word of the poems, they looked at page after page again and again. It was the coolest thing. I wish I would have made more and given them to the kids.

Enjabulweni

I am teaching Grade 6 at Enjabulweni. It is going well, but it is really overwhelming because they have no curriculum or standards per grade level. There is so much the students do not know, so I am having a tough time trying to limit what I want to teach them because I can't teach them everything. I have 29 students (ages 14-18) in that small room with just a chalkboard and chalk to teach them. They have a workbook but it is terrible, so most things I teach are on my own and they do not even have any worksheets or anything to give them. And if I want to make them worksheets, I have to pay for it on my own, so it adds up really fast. So the resources are definitely limited. My favorite part so far about teaching is having them do writing prompts. It helps me figure out where they are with their English skills and also teaches me more about them. Yesterday, the writing prompt was about what they would do with four gold coins. My favorite answer was from Vukane, who said he would buy clothes for him and his sister and save at least one of the gold coins for his mother so they could get food. It is so humbling teaching these kids. Aside from teaching, we (all the volunteers) help with tutoring every Monday and Wednesday night. MYC has four boys homes, so that’s where we go to help the boys with their schoolwork. I am also picking up another hour and half on Tuesday afternoons. For the most part, my afternoons are “free,” but also includes my planning for teaching. But soon my afternoons will be very occupied…but more on that later.

Street Night

Another volunteer, Alex, and I went with Peter (social worker for MYC) on “street night” where he goes around and looks for boys sleeping on the streets and hopefully ends up placing them in one of their homes. It's one thing to hear about it, but to actually see it is quite a different experience. We saw a group of women in the marketplace who came from rural areas of Swazi to sell things in the market. Peter told us that the women would sleep there and stay in Manzini until everything is sold. I couldn't believe they just slept in the streets like that. We also came across a few boys and Peter tried to get them connected with MYC. Also, we found two boys who were previously at MYC homes and had ran away...They eventually made their way to back to staying in the homes. I started asking Peter about prostitutes and the different ages and if they had ever looked for girls in the streets or just boys. He said at one point they had looked for girls as well but there are more boys living in the streets than girls; he also said it was much harder to help girls who are living in the streets because then they have to deal with pregnancies or prostitution or other things. Alex and I looked at each other like, "what?!" She said, "doesn't that mean it's even MORE important to try to find them and help them?" Peter agreed, but we all know there's nothing going to be done about it.

One thing is for sure... MYC needs a girls home...not just boys homes. Hopefully, I can kick up enough dirt to get that going...

Bats, Cockroaches, and Mouse Poop, OH MY!

Where are my brothers when I need them?!

My living conditions are nothing to complain about, but I just want to tell you my lovely encounter with bats, cockroaches, and poop…

So we have bats living in our ceiling. We can hear them and it’s kindof creepy. So far I haven’t actually SEEN one, which is wonderful! What I HAVE seen is just as gross…

I was out in the “livingroom” with some other volunteers when we heard some screams. They laughed and said, “probably cockroaches.” Haha…I laughed, too…until I found out the screaming was coming from my room. After the cockroaches were properly taken care of, it still took me a while to go to sleep, but I managed. However, the other night, I woke up to find mouse poop right by my pillow! Ewwwww! I was so freaked out that I slept with another volunteer in her room for the next two nights. My roommate kindly shook out the mattress and checked the box mattress for me. No mice…but more dead cockroaches!!! YUCK! They were living in my mattress! Okay, enough about the bugs…other living conditions…

My housemates are wonderful. I really love them. I love living in such a multicultural house! And I’m learning to cook better. I am sorry to say but I definitely added to the American stereotype of being fat and lazy and not knowing how to cook. Lol. I get along really well with one volunteer named Eilidh; we found out today we are basically soulmates because we are the same person, except she’s Scottish. ;)

Mantenga Falls

As a part of Ryan's last few adventures in Swaziland, we took some kids from Mangwaneni to Mantenga Falls (a BEAUTIFUL waterfall and swimming area). Spihlile, Iyanda, Temu, and Susan joined us for the festivities with two other Salesian volunteers. We had a blast. I kindof felt like a parent because we brought food for a picnic and the four of us adults sat on our towels and ate while the kids ran around, splashed in the water, and played hide and seek. They were too thrilled to even it. I quite liked it. I think I'll enjoy motherhood...someday. :)

Safe, Settled (and already sweating) in Swaziland

SAFE

Problems with Arrival?
After my passport frenzy, I finally made it on the plane and had a 16 hour flight to Johannesburg. I slept surprisingly well on the plane, watched a few movies, and made friends with two young kids from Botswana to pass the time. Swazi is four hours from Jo-burg, so I had previously arranged for my friend Musa to pick me up at the Jo-burg airport and drive me back to Swazi. Initially, (without the passport dilemma) he and my friend Ncobile were going to pick me up because they both did not have to work. But because I had to delay my flight, Musa wasn’t sure he could get off. He told me of course that he would be there, but I still was just a little nervous that he was going to “try to sneak out of work around noon.” I was mostly nervous about this because there was no way to ensure that he was going to be there on time or at all, and there was no way to contact him once I got there. But I figured I would be just fine. When I arrived, I gathered all my luggage bags and headed to the main arrival waiting area. I scanned for Musa…so many people looked like him, it was hard to tell if he was there or not. I waited awhile and scanned some more…still no Musa.

Problem 1: what do you do when your ride is not there?
As time passed, I grew more and more nervous. Jo-burg is NOT the place one wants to be as a lone female. Several taxi drivers kept coming up to me and ask if I needed a ride. Getting a ride seemed a little sketch to me, but as an hour passed, I started thinking about plan B. Should I wait longer? I don’t want to wait too much longer and be at the airport alone at night….but how much longer should I wait? Is he coming? Did something happen that he couldn’t come? I tried asking people if I could use their phones to call him. But it wouldn’t go through. I then exchanged my money and headed for the pay phone. I called and it finally went through…but his phone was out of service. I called my friend Ncobile to see if she could get a hold of him for me…hers was out of service, too. Eish. I am such a dependable person and am not often left independent, so it was scary for me… but good all at the same time. Another taxi driver approached me, and I told them if my friend didn’t come in a little while, then I would use their services. (Taxis here are different from the yellow taxis you see at home…their aren’t necessarily taxi businesses, but just individuals with taxi services, which is why it can be a little more sketch.) I decided to roll my luggage cart to the center of the waiting area…then I opened up my bible to give me some peace of mind. Not 5 minutes later, I look up to see my lovely friends with big smiles on their faces quickly approaching me! I’m learning to wait…I was in no rush, but in my anxiety, if I would have done something rash and gotten a taxi, things would have been all messed up. So with the comfort of my two Swazi friends, we hit the road.

Problem #2: What happens when the border closes at 10 p.m.?
“Musa, drive,” Ncobile says agitated at Musa’s cautious driving. “Push, push, push!”
“Eish, I know…” he responds after looking at the clock. He starts speeding up a little.
“What’s the rush?” I ask.
“The border closes as 10,” he responds. It was 8:30 by this point and we had about 2 hours left to go.
“So…what happens if we don’t get there in time?” I ask.
“Well…we will have to sleep in the car,” he says seriously.
I definitely do not want to be sleeping in the car after a long plane ride. He picks up the speed but the fog picks up, too. It so thick at one point, we were just crawling. He started praying with a bit of urgency, and then started singing. I couldn’t help but smile that in a stressful circumstance he was just singing away. Anyway, as time approached it looked more and more like we weren’t going to make it, but we were getting close.

“Grab your passport,” Musa instructed me, “and get ready to run.”
We whip into the parking lot at 9:56 p.m. Musa grabs all three of our passports and runs with us to the check-out of South Africa counter. We jump back in the car and drive a few more yards when we are stopped by the border patrol officer; he wants to check my luggage. “Eish!” Musa sighs. “This will take too long.” He opens the trunk for the officer and I hear some muffled SiSwati. Musa hops quickly back into the car, then reaches over to “shake” the officer’s hand and slipped some money to him. Before I could ask, we had to park again, jump out once more and run into the “Welcome to the Kingdom of Swaziland” border check-in. On the way out, we are stopped again by the other border patrol officer; again Musa pops the trunk and slips some cash to him. Apparently, if he wouldn’t have paid off the officers, we would not have made it through the border on time because it takes for ever to check in all my luggage.
As we enter Swazi we all cheer with excitement. Wow, what an arrival day!

This is Musa trying to fit all my luggage into his "taxi," and Ncobile who came with, too!

Getting Settled

After that late night, I slept on a less-than-comfortable mattress on the floor in the room of a complete stranger (turns out she's a really great roommate...we went to mass together this morning). The actual mattress is so thin it feels like I am sleeping on broken pieces of wood..oh, I am. But it's better than a plane seat! Jetlag anyone? I guess I didn’t really have much of it…or maybe I just convinced myself not to because I started my first day at school the next morning! But it wasn’t so bad…I went with a few of the other volunteers and met the “headmaster” as well as Joyce, the woman in charge of the teachers. She placed me as teaching Grade 6 and also wants me to help put together some teaching workshops for the Swazi teachers because they have never really had teaching training. I start teaching Grade 6 on Monday, so until then she put me as a substitute for a Grade 4 remedial class. “Eish…I don’t know if I want to do that to you,” she said at first. “They are naughty. Very naughty.”
“It’s okay; I don’t mind,” I offered, thinking it would be a good challenge for me, if nothing else.
“Are you sure? They are the kids we got right off the street, so they are in this remedial class until we can place them according to ability,” she explains.
“It’s okay,” I smile.
“You can try?”
“Yebo.”
“Okay…” she gives a look like, good luck you crazy umlungu (white person).
So I started in that classroom yesterday. Wow, she was so right. Naughty. Very naughty. The boys are all around 13 to 15 years old, and they definitely did not respect me as the teacher. I shouldn’t say “they” because it was mostly just a few of them who made the trouble. Some of them refused to listen, refused to follow directions or refused my discipline. The Swazis hit their students, so they are used to physical discipline, but since they know I won’t give that kind of discipline, they tend to push buttons right away. They would talk to each other in SiSwati (they know they are only supposed to speak English during class) and laugh and I would have NO idea what they were talking about. But the most frustrating part is that they had no materials…they had no pencils ojr notebooks with them and teh office woman was gone so it was locked and I couldnt even get them pencils. They had no books, so it was a good thing I brought my book of poems just in case. I had to fill four hours worth of class using one book of poems. I started thinking of plans right away but those soon fell through when I found out how much they struggled to read. Most of them were at about a 2nd grade reading level, so it was very difficult to do activities. I ended up playing a few names games and listening games with them, and it was over soon enough. I as dreading coming back today but theywere so much better and much more behaved. I actually wish I could stay in that classroom because I think I could really help them learn a lot.
(a picture of some of the boys)


I also went to Mangwaneni care point where I spent most of mytime the first summer I went. Man, it was justlike home again. As soon as Ryan and I got there the kids raced up to us and pushed one another to reach us first. They literally just want to be touched; it still breaks my heart that they are so starving for love. Pununu, one of the boys from the first summer, lit up when he saw me and Londe took me to her sister Temu. It was so great seeing my kids again! Temu walked all the way throughtown yesterday to find me. She found me as I was walking past the bakery shop, so i asked if she wanted something. Instead of getting a treat she asked for a bag of bread buns. We sat down and had a lovely conversation. her English has greatly improved and she is now sponsored by someone so she can stay in school. She really loves it and says she wants to go to high school and then to be a teacher. She told me more about Tanele, and though I haven't seen Tanele yet, I know I will.

Banele:

Pununu:

Temu:
Well, there you have the first long update of information. Look forward to keeping you posted.

Love,
Mary-Kate

Calm Amidst a Storm

Starting with a storm...

I should have already been on a plane to Johannesburg by now. But we had a slight mishap with my passport. And since I have time and access to internet, I thought I might as well fill you all in on the story...

Key characters:
Hannah: friend who lives in Atlanta
Ellen: Hannah's mom
Rebecca: Hannah's sister
Aunt Becky: Hannah's aunt
Christina: friend
Haley: friend

Key settings:
Milwaukee airport
Atlanta airport
Ellen's couch (where I am right now)

How the story starts:
I departed home early Saturday morning, and flew from Milwaukee to Atlanta, where I was taking the international flight out later. Aunt Becky picked me up at the airport, along with Christina and Hannah, who had gotten into Atlanta yesterday for Hannah's wedding weekend. Okay, that's how it starts...so let's skip ahead to my departure...

Time to say goodbyes again...
(I hate crying in front of people, but sometimes I just can't hold the tears.) I cried when I hugged Hannah goodbye, and the sadness only got worse when I hugged Blayne and Haley goodbye. As much as I thought I was ready for Swazi, I really was not ready emotionally. I was already homesick, and already questioning how I was going to make it 9 months without my family and these people that I love. Nevertheless, no turning back now. I was all packed up and ready to go to Africa as Ellen drove me and Christina back to the airport. (Becky had already taken Haley who had an earlier flight.) We both were flying out with Delta (Christina back home, me to Jo-burg), so it only seemed logical to me that Ellen could just drop us off, we could hop out and check in together, and save Ellen any unneccessary extra time and money to park. However, being the wonderful woman that she is, she insisted on parking saying, "I would feel a lot better if I can see you both check in." I liked this response, since I was already getting nervous for the flight, and quite honestly was not looking forward to arriving in Africa.

As we parked the car, I thought, I'll just grab my passport out of my carry-on right now, so I don't have to zip through it in the airport. So I unzip the front pocket where I put it...not there. I unzipped the second pocket...not there. My heart skipped a few beats. Uh oh. I tried to remain calm as Christina and Ellen waited for me. Maybe I put it somewhere else inside the suitcase. I opened it up...not there. My heart is not just skipping beats; by now it's literally pounding all the way to my ear drums. I know it's in here somewhere. I am frantically looking through the suitcase as Christina joins in and we tear through some other suitcases. Nowhere. I start crying. I am freaking out inside and having an emotional breakdown. God bless Ellen and Christina for helping me through it. Ellen grabs my hand and says, "Okay, let's stop and pray." So we pray right there in the parking lot. We head inside, Christina and I say goodbye so she can catch her flight, and Ellen is takes all the logical steps for me, since I am an emotional mess. Talk about the worst thing that could happen to start off a 9 month trip to Africa...lose a passport.

Ellen takes us to the passport office and tries to see what options we have. The earliest I could get passport would be Wednesday...and $700. "Okay, tell us a more feasible option," Ellen tells the passport lady. She says we can drive to Washington. Ha. Or I can go back home, and wait a few weeks to get my passport which would be much cheaper. I am still in tears and trying to hold it together. We go to a table in the airport and Ellen helps me literally dump out every suitcase just in case it got stuck somewhere in my luggage.

Okay, so it's not there. What are the options? I immediately think someone stole. Because I am thinking worst case scenario. Ellen helps me logically think through things. Okay, I know I packed it in my carry-on. I know I had it at the Milwaukee airport when I left. But even knowing these things wasn't enough because my mind was playing tricks on me already. Maybe you just thought you packed it, Kate. I call home again and again; of course, no one picks up. I finally get a hold of my brother Garret...but he's already at school and can't help look at home. I finally get ahold of my sister and they look through things at home. Nothing. My other thought was maybe it fell out at Milwaukee airport. My bags were overweight so I was shuffling things around in different suitcases including my carry-on, so maybe it fell out, or maybe my parents took it home with some other extra books I had them take back. Nope, still no passport.

I call Garret again. "Garret, I need to hear you confirm that you saw my passport in Milwaukee."

"Yes, Kate, I saw it. You had it in your carry-on," and he went on to explain where and what it looked like...just so I could confirm it for myself that I wasn't going crazy. So I started thinking...maybe it fell out at the Aunt Becky's house after she picked us up from the airport. Ellen calls Becky and she looks through the whole house...not there. Becky asks me, "Are you sure you had it?"

"Yes. Positive."

At this point we finished every suitcase and my next option was about to find a flight back home. Ellen answers her phone and says, "What?! You have it?" It was Aunty Becky. When she heard me say I was sure I had it, she looked everywhere, knowing it had to have fallen out somewhere. Sure enough...of all the places...under the backseat of her car! It must have somehow fallen out when we took my luggage out of her car. PRAISE THE LORD! We have the passport!

However, at this point, my time to check in was dwindling fast. Becky jumps in the car and starts speeding to the airport (which is an hour away) as we go to the check in desk and tell them the whole ordeal. Ellen asks if I want to talk or let her. Of course I want her to talk since my mind is still muddled. The man at the counter gives us the same response that we had been getting all day... "Wow," (and they avoid eye-contact...as if they just said, "you're screwed." The man tells us there's no way I can catch the flight because my passport has to be there in 10 minutes. Not possible. Then it's the whole money issue. I'm wondering how much it's going to cost for a flight the next day. Fortunately, he said I only had to pay the change of flight fee and not the change of ticket prices! Again, PRAISE THE LORD! AND, the best part about it, was that on Friday, my Uncle Mike gave me a card for my trip and a Visa gift card for "emergency funds." WHAT A GIFT!

So...here I am, sitting on Ellen's couch...her and Rebecca have been such a blessing to me and pampering me and making me feel right at home. I can't thank God enough for providing them as the calmness in the midst of a storm. Needless to say, I basically slept with my passport last night and will not let it leave my hands. Better for something like that to happen here, rather than there. And I am much more excited to get on that plane today. (And...another woman at the desk yesterday said, "Maybe we can get you a better seat for tomorrow; so apparently the missing passport helped me get a better seat for 16 hours. lol.)

God is good. So faithful. So good. I am ready for this journey together. It's a good lesson to start the trip...knowing that the Lord can make goodness come out of any bad situation, as long as I trust Him.

Sometimes He calms the storm, other times He calms His child.

Flying S-O-L-O

I always knew leaving the people I love would be difficult, but I never knew it would be THIS difficult. This last week of preparation before my trip has been nothing less than stressful, emotional, and chaotic. With my grandpa in the hospital and the reality that I have to say my final goodbye tonight is painful; yet, I know God is close to the broken-hearted. I hate to leave at a time like this, and leave the ones I love when they are in pain, but I know the Lord is faithful; I thank Him for the wonderful past few days spent with my grandparents and family. I have been blessed tremendously with so much support from family and friends throughout the whole process of this mission, and it blows me away how much I can feel the Lord's love through it all. It is very clear I cannot do this on my own; for in my weakness is the Lord's strength.

I soon will be taking a 16 hour flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg, where my good friends Musa and Ncobile will pick me up and drive me to Swaziland. I start teaching on Wednesday, so it will be quite the quick adjustment! I look forward to keeping you updated. Please keep me in your prayers.

Love,
Mary-Kate