Hitting the wall

I knew it was bound to happen at some point, and it happened today...or maybe it was last night. Anyway, the way I see it, any time you spend a significant amount of time in a different place with a culture you're not used to, language you don't know, customs you don't understand, etc., you first find everything very exciting and interesting and adventurous (especially if you're Chris Nicholson, but also, to a certain extent, if you are Sarah Nicholson). Then, you reach a point where you become used to it and start to find it familiar and comfortable and even like the "different" way of things. But, I believe, between those two points, it is very common to hit a wall. And I think this happens various numbers of times for various people before reaching the "comfortable" point. All this to say, I have hit the first wall.

Yesterday, we were out all day (which was supposed to be a couple of hours) involving hours of driving over extremely bumpy roads, loud staticky radio blaring in Swahili, listening to community health workers receive their training, and most of all, NO LUNCH!!! Now some of you may not know this about me, but when I do not eat, I get very cranky (don't worry, Chris has already pointed out to me how I eat 10 times as much as most of the kids he is with all day, and I felt guilty about that like I thought I was supposed to), and I really enjoy eating things that taste good (Kenyan food tends to have very little taste, which, admittedly, is better than bad taste). Anyway, we finally got home and I was so hungry I thought I would pass out. But cooking over here is no trivial thing, so I started to cook the meat that we had been marinating all day. Chris helped so it didn't take quite so long, and when we finally sat down to eat I was really excited for this wonderful meal. Unfortunately, this meal went about like all the others I have tried to cook since we have been here...not so good. Cooking here is, as our new friend, Peggy put it, experimental. Everything tastes and cooks just a little different, and for some reason, I got really discouraged about not being able to cook a good meal for my husband. We ended up pulling out some leftover brownies and having more dessert than we really should have because we hadn't been satisfied with dinner. Chris said, either we will get really skinny while we are here, or we will become diabetics.

Now this experience seems like a small thing, but it has put me into a funk. Today I went out to the field to help collect some data from some children. And, being the only white person on the team, all eyes were on me. There is something demeaning about people getting your attention by calling you "white person." (I know I know, it seems ironic for me to be feeling this way considering that our fellow Americans that happen to have dark skin have felt this multiplied times 1000). They want to say "how are you" but say it very nasally on purpose because they think thats how we sound. I just started getting so annoyed because I was tired and hungry and over it. The other thing they know how to say is "give me sweet." Very endearing, I know. Anyway, I got to thinking, maybe I was struggling because this was a new place where I didn't know any of the children and they didn't know me. There was no relationship there. I just began to look at all their faces and thinking, God, how can I really love all these children? I've past the point where they look the same to me. They all look very different. But how can I have enough love to look at each and everyone and, even though they do and say things that annoy me, still love them because I know they are precious children of God, and they are hurting and starving? I found myself thinking that love can be very cumbersome. It involves getting to know someone, caring about that person, and hurting when they get hurt, and I just don't know if I can handle that for all the children in Africa, or in Kenya, or in Kisumu. Then I was very thankful for God's infinite love, and thankful that I am not God. I realize that he knows my limits. I'm still trying to understand what He wants from me here, but I think I will start by loving people that best that I can. I love the people that I work with, because I have gotten to know them, and I think they see that I am genuinely interested in their lives. As I get to know the children at ringroad, I am loving them, too. The relationship changes when they see that you are not a "catch-and-release" friend, but that you come back, day after day, week after week. This is when you see the ugly side of things, but also when you experience relationship and love that can bring mutual transformation into God's image, as you understand, a little better, who God is (a relationship between Father, son, and Holly Spirit) and how He desires to commune with you.

Anyway, Chris and I are going to the supermarket to try and find me some snack food for during the day to keep grumpy Sarah at bay, and I'm going to give myself a break from the cooking experimentation for a few days. I find myself thankful that my job does not involve going to the field everyday, where I would likely have the above experience over and over again. Instead, I can come to lab where I can build relationship with people here because I see them day after day. I guess the Lord knows what He's doing after all;)