Spiderwoman
A few weeks ago, I was bitten by a poisonous spider. My arm quickly got… well we don’t need to go into gory detail, but it was bad. It kept getting worse until I finally decided (a week and a half later) that I did indeed need to go to the hospital. I got into the car. And to my surprise, so did another teacher and Grace (my mission partner). I was not expecting anyone to come along to comfort me. Ever the “tough guy,” I acted as though I didn't care either way. But I did. A lot. They sat with me. They held my hand. When I refused to squeeze despite the searing pain, they squeezed for me. Their thoughtful caring touched my heart so much.
A week later, I had to make a 3 hour trip to see another doctor. Again Grace slid next to me in the car. Again I feigned indifference but was secretly grateful. In the weeks after, she gently nursed me back to health. (Sidenote: she's actually a nurse. How much did I luck out?) Never before has medical aid felt so calming and so personal. Her empathy made all the difference in the world.
The Students Show Their Love
During the period of my absence,
the students at the school asked, “Where is Sista Cait?” and sent get-well
messages to me through the grapevine. When
I made my first appearance at the school in over a week, their faces lit up. They were incredibly sweet and their
happiness was genuine. They had actually
missed me. I didn't think I mattered that much.
The first day back teaching the
littlest ones, I entered the classroom to a rousing Welcome (back) song. After class, I stayed behind for a few minutes while another teacher
was preparing his lesson. One girl looked
up at me as only a child can (with eyes that could make a glacier melt) and
flashed me the purest of smiles. “I love
you,” she said (in English!), and went back to playing her xylophone. Just like that. A moment like that changes a person. A moment like that sticks with you forever.
Whistle While You Work
I was playing with some children after school when one of our Brothers came looking for workers to cut the grass (to do this, we use “slashers” which look like golf clubs). He called to the kids but said, “you don’t want to stop your game? Okay, no problem.” They screamed, “No, no! Wait! Stop! We don’t want to play!” and ran over. They happily spent the next hour in the rain, pulling their weight and then some. Their work ethic surprised and impressed me. These children, as a whole, want to work for their school community, even if it means trading in soccer jerseys and grass-stained knees for sweat-soaked t-shirts and mud-caked feet.
Through their actions, they provided me with an example to follow. They have unknowingly challenged me to examine my own priorities and to evaluate my willingness to do what is needed while maintaining a consistently uplifted spirit. What is second nature to them is cause for reflection for me.
I was playing with some children after school when one of our Brothers came looking for workers to cut the grass (to do this, we use “slashers” which look like golf clubs). He called to the kids but said, “you don’t want to stop your game? Okay, no problem.” They screamed, “No, no! Wait! Stop! We don’t want to play!” and ran over. They happily spent the next hour in the rain, pulling their weight and then some. Their work ethic surprised and impressed me. These children, as a whole, want to work for their school community, even if it means trading in soccer jerseys and grass-stained knees for sweat-soaked t-shirts and mud-caked feet.
Through their actions, they provided me with an example to follow. They have unknowingly challenged me to examine my own priorities and to evaluate my willingness to do what is needed while maintaining a consistently uplifted spirit. What is second nature to them is cause for reflection for me.
White Girl Got Rhythm
One afternoon, I asked a few boys to teach me some of the rhythms they play on the drums. They looked at me with condescending skepticism, but decided to briefly placate me. Little did they know how much I love the pulse of music. After recovering from their surprise that I was actually able to follow along, they challenged me with more difficult beats. I surprised them again. A small crowd gathered to gawk, and I couldn’t help but feel they were secretly waiting for me to make a terrible blunder and give up. No such luck. Eventually we decided “halas” (we were “finished”), and went our separate ways. But I had gained their respect; I could see it in their eyes. To me, this small victory is very important. “I am one of you,” it implies. “I am not as much of an outsider as it may seem.” Street cred – check.
One afternoon, I asked a few boys to teach me some of the rhythms they play on the drums. They looked at me with condescending skepticism, but decided to briefly placate me. Little did they know how much I love the pulse of music. After recovering from their surprise that I was actually able to follow along, they challenged me with more difficult beats. I surprised them again. A small crowd gathered to gawk, and I couldn’t help but feel they were secretly waiting for me to make a terrible blunder and give up. No such luck. Eventually we decided “halas” (we were “finished”), and went our separate ways. But I had gained their respect; I could see it in their eyes. To me, this small victory is very important. “I am one of you,” it implies. “I am not as much of an outsider as it may seem.” Street cred – check.
Jubilation
Yesterday was All Saints’ Day and the first day post-midterm-exams. To celebrate both, we had a school mass, the first one since I’ve been here. The church was packed to the brim (it’s not a huge space, and we have almost 500 kids in the school). The liturgical dancers performed in the aisle. The best student singers held their microphones with pride. There was dancing in the pews. Normal Sunday mass is a jovial experience, but something was different about this one. There was a spirit of fun that saturated the air, a product of the energy of the young congregation. The students who are preparing for sacraments were called to line up, and the sheer number of them was almost overwhelming. All of them are choosing, on their own, to further their faith. For the entire 2+ hours of mass, everyone was smiling, thoroughly enjoying the time spent together in worship. There's something amazing about the passion of youth. If there's a more powerful energy source for the soul, I don't know about it.
Yesterday was All Saints’ Day and the first day post-midterm-exams. To celebrate both, we had a school mass, the first one since I’ve been here. The church was packed to the brim (it’s not a huge space, and we have almost 500 kids in the school). The liturgical dancers performed in the aisle. The best student singers held their microphones with pride. There was dancing in the pews. Normal Sunday mass is a jovial experience, but something was different about this one. There was a spirit of fun that saturated the air, a product of the energy of the young congregation. The students who are preparing for sacraments were called to line up, and the sheer number of them was almost overwhelming. All of them are choosing, on their own, to further their faith. For the entire 2+ hours of mass, everyone was smiling, thoroughly enjoying the time spent together in worship. There's something amazing about the passion of youth. If there's a more powerful energy source for the soul, I don't know about it.
Dance, White Girl, Dance
After mass, the kids gathered in a massive huddle to dance around a standing drum that was providing a soundtrack to the morning. I walked over and was immediately told, “Sista, we want to see you dance.” No problem! I jumped into the inner circle and gave it my best. What seemed like a hundred children’s voices rang out with laughter, and some flat-out doubled over. Now I am no Latina, but I thought I was doing pretty well swinging my hips this way and that. I don’t know if they laughed just because their teacher was joining in with the kids, because I impressed them with my dancing skills, or because I made a fool out of myself (of course I’m telling myself it was the second). But it doesn’t matter. We all had a great deal of fun. I will remember their laughter in that moment – our laughter – for a long time to come.
After mass, the kids gathered in a massive huddle to dance around a standing drum that was providing a soundtrack to the morning. I walked over and was immediately told, “Sista, we want to see you dance.” No problem! I jumped into the inner circle and gave it my best. What seemed like a hundred children’s voices rang out with laughter, and some flat-out doubled over. Now I am no Latina, but I thought I was doing pretty well swinging my hips this way and that. I don’t know if they laughed just because their teacher was joining in with the kids, because I impressed them with my dancing skills, or because I made a fool out of myself (of course I’m telling myself it was the second). But it doesn’t matter. We all had a great deal of fun. I will remember their laughter in that moment – our laughter – for a long time to come.
Picnic
We took some of the children on a picnic. On the way to the picnic spot, I rode in the girls’ car. I think all of Maridi heard our singing and clapping. Every song sung was a simple, repetitive Praise and Worship song. Secular music? Not of interest. Singing quietly? Not an option. The celebratory chanting continued throughout the day and was complemented by group dances. I had so much fun! On the way home, I rode in the boys’ tractor-wagon. Maridi got an encore. For at least 5 straight minutes, they sang-shouted, “We are aaaaaall Don Bosco boys!” I claimed this title too, despite being the only girl present (I’m used to that, so I don’t mind “being a boy” every once and awhile). Interestingly enough, at this very moment, as I am typing this, I hear those exact words being sung from all the way up at the school. Just another example of the faith of these wonderful kids. Their lives joyfully center around Christ. Mine should too.
We took some of the children on a picnic. On the way to the picnic spot, I rode in the girls’ car. I think all of Maridi heard our singing and clapping. Every song sung was a simple, repetitive Praise and Worship song. Secular music? Not of interest. Singing quietly? Not an option. The celebratory chanting continued throughout the day and was complemented by group dances. I had so much fun! On the way home, I rode in the boys’ tractor-wagon. Maridi got an encore. For at least 5 straight minutes, they sang-shouted, “We are aaaaaall Don Bosco boys!” I claimed this title too, despite being the only girl present (I’m used to that, so I don’t mind “being a boy” every once and awhile). Interestingly enough, at this very moment, as I am typing this, I hear those exact words being sung from all the way up at the school. Just another example of the faith of these wonderful kids. Their lives joyfully center around Christ. Mine should too.
Frisbee
Here, the kids play basketball, volleyball, and (the king of sports) soccer. I brought with me a frisbee, hoping to introduce an American game to South Sudan. It was a slow start, as kids raised their eyebrows at the flying “plate”. A few occasionally tossed it around while waiting for their turn to play the “real” games. But it has begun to take hold. Yesterday at Oratory, they asked me for it first-thing. They asked for it instead of even the soccer ball! They split into teams and learned Ultimate Frisbee, which they played for the whole 2 hours. They chose to stay even after the other games started. This is a big deal. I am so glad that they are learning the game and that they are happy. As I stood in line at Sports Authority two months ago, I didn’t think about how I might be affected by the purchase. I did not expect this, but I feel greatly humbled. All I am is a servant whose hope it is to be a model of God’s love to these children. Oddly enough, He chose frisbee as a way to bring our cultures together, as a way to bring us together. I have received so much from this place. Now God has gifted me with the opportunity to actually add something here, however small. And something that might even remain here after I have gone. What a beautiful thing.
Here, the kids play basketball, volleyball, and (the king of sports) soccer. I brought with me a frisbee, hoping to introduce an American game to South Sudan. It was a slow start, as kids raised their eyebrows at the flying “plate”. A few occasionally tossed it around while waiting for their turn to play the “real” games. But it has begun to take hold. Yesterday at Oratory, they asked me for it first-thing. They asked for it instead of even the soccer ball! They split into teams and learned Ultimate Frisbee, which they played for the whole 2 hours. They chose to stay even after the other games started. This is a big deal. I am so glad that they are learning the game and that they are happy. As I stood in line at Sports Authority two months ago, I didn’t think about how I might be affected by the purchase. I did not expect this, but I feel greatly humbled. All I am is a servant whose hope it is to be a model of God’s love to these children. Oddly enough, He chose frisbee as a way to bring our cultures together, as a way to bring us together. I have received so much from this place. Now God has gifted me with the opportunity to actually add something here, however small. And something that might even remain here after I have gone. What a beautiful thing.
