And So It Begins

Everyone's experienced it.
Admit it; you have too.

The nervous excitement, with just a touch of dread, upon the return of Routine and Responsibility. Things are getting back to normal...including the sound of your alarm clock in the morning.

School starts again.
The grindstone happily greets your schnoz.
The library is dusted, and backpacks are pulled out from under the bunk.
The cafeteria is re-opened (glory, hallelujah!).

I think excitement outweighs dread.

Bring it on, Tuesday.

No Naked!

I'm no longer naked!!

You know those moments at "casual" events that really end up being formal, and you feel very underdressed?
I was about to have one of those moments.

You see, tonight is the NFC Championship; Packers v. Bears. When I was packing for Kenya, I wasn't thinking about the NFL Playoffs (foolish, I know; gotta plan ahead, right?) and didn't pack any Packers regalia save my favorite, once-green baseball cap.

A baseball cap is NOT enough for an event such as this.

What to do? Wear my teal t-shirt and yellow scarf? Hardly. So, I headed to Ongata Rongai. While my compatriots were purchasing cabbages and carrots, I was perusing the dirt floored, tin-roofed pole sheds for my prize.

There it was: The most beautiful green item of clothing I've ever seen in Kenya. Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was a youth size, but nothing was to come between Jessica and her weapon of Bears demoralization. I'll even buy it if it's a onesie...I can always pin it to my shirt. She began converting typical U.S. prices into Kenyan shillings...I'll settle for no more than 2000Ksh.
"How much?"
"450."
"How about 300?"
"400."
"Ok."

I tried to hide my glee at buying a green and gold #4 jersey for $5.

Tell me: what team can even think of prevailing over a team that has a backer in Kenya? Non. Not a one.

There are other people who have been Packers fans longer than I have.

...But they were born earlier.


1996: My first Packer-backing memory. Young Brett Favre led the green and gold to the right to call Green Bay "Titletown USA". I had a green toothbrush with yellow bristles with that very title embossed on it in gold; an ugly thing, really, but I love(d) it. I still have collector's cards for each of the 1997 starters, and pennants and posters that once filled my "Packer corner".
So, I like the Packers.
Go Pack Go.

Journal Entry

I read some SM blogs in the Student Movement. The gravity of what I'm called to do, of what people believe I'm doing, hit me.

I am unworthy.
I haven't succeeded.
I'm not the one for the job.

But that's why this job is perfect.
His strength is made perfect in my weakness.
I'm proud to be weak (well, I should be).




When you prepare to be an SM, they tell you not to expect to change the world.
Then why try?
Because even if you're not trying, if you're not aware of your life's impact, you're making a difference. You choose what sort of difference you make by the person you are.
\So who will you model your life after? You  have two choices.

On a Train to Cairo

I sank into my seat with a huff just as the train began to roll away from the station. My ticket read seat 4, but the scarlet-tuqued woman with matching lip paint and nail polish was in no mind to give up her window seat. An empty seat across the aisle sufficed and was gratefully received after the crush getting onto car 5.
And so I was in seat 2, surrounded by plump sextenarians in seats 1, 3, and 4. The head scarves of 1 and 3 denoted their faith, but amber aviators, faux snakeskin shoes, and a studded handbag denoted spunk. 1 - my seatmate - wore a plum-colored scarf that almost matched the swirling patterns of fuchsia on her sweater. Giggles wafted across the aisle as the three conversed in fluid Arabic.

"Aah!" (the apparent equivalent for "hey" in Arabic) Something resembling a cheese sandwich was proffered across the aisle and across my lap. A half-sandwich was held toward me with a smile; I graciously declined. 1 chewed in silence and smiled; I smiled too. No need for small talk when even small words can't be understood. No discussion of God or Allah, why the first page of her book would be the last of mine, her covered hair nor mine pulled into braids. Just a knowing silence.

Michael Bublé serenaded 1 with "Sway" until she answered the call.

An adventure on a train with pals; spirit, vivacity, kindness; smiles. These women found the heart of life.
I aspire to be 1 someday.

Update #24: Pharaonic Adventures!

With Germeen @ Sphinx & Pyramids

New Year's Eve. BAM. At promptly midnight Nairobi time, I was loading up my two carry-on sized luggage items into the school van amidst the fireworks display of our neighbors (apparently New Year's Eve is the only time fireworks are legal). Cassie, Tyson and I were on our way to the airport to catch a plane to Cairo!

After a pushy flight attendant and a sleepless, dreamlike flight, we were riding in a tiny van with Germeen and her brother. No problem at all with the visas, praise God. The only problem: US$66 missing from my checked bag. Sigh. Oh well. I guess the daughter of a security personnel man is getting a nice Christmas gift.

...I'm struggling to squeeze two weeks of touring Egypt into one email. Oofta.

Egypt: Land of the Pharaohs. And lots of people. And Arabic. And men. And dust. And smoking.

Koshary!

Ooo, and the food; yum. Koshary, ful, aish, fateer, falafel...who knows if those are spelled correctly; they tasted amazing. Truth be told, if I had encountered koshary at a potluck or in a cafeteria line, I'd have steered clear. A conglomerate of spaghetti, macaroni, garbanzo beans, fried onions, tomato paste, and lentils (with a squirt or two of garlic lemon sauce), koshary is a frighteningly delicious
dish that I never turned down. Cassie, Tyson, and I also splurged a few times. Egypt boasts American restaurants not found in Kenya...a pizza from Pizza Hut, milkshakes &

fries from McDonalds, and minibons from CinnaBon made Egypt even more tasteful.

The people! I must tell about the people. Most men like to flirt with the foreigners, and even more of them are incessantly smoking, whether it be from a cigarette or a water pipe (strangest thing I'd ever seen). Many of them have a darkened callous of sorts in the middle of their foreheads from devoted prayers with forehead to the floor. Nearly all of the women wore a head scarf, but their clothing styles were very much the same as those in the U.S.

The only guy that received mutual flirtation

Back to the flirtatious men...I have never before felt so reduced to blonde hair and genitalia.
"Welcom to Ezhypt!"
"Hola Senoritas!"
"(something in Arabic with a wink)"
"(something in Arabic with raised eyebrows)"
"Come, come take a seat and have a drink! No drugs! No drugs."
"Smile, Baby Spice." (my personal favorite)

If my call were at Nile Union Academy instead of MAA, I believe I'd find a burka, gloves, and sunglasses to disguise my blonde-haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned self.

My foot! In the Mediterranean!

In a nutshell: I loved my time in Egypt. A visit to the pyramids & sphinx, a belly-dancing light fest riverboat trip down the Nile, the temples of Luxor and Aswan, sunsets on the Nile, learning to dance the merengue from a Colombian, bowling in a non-smoking alley, the library in Alexandria, a castle, dipping my toes in the Mediterranean Sea, Roman amphitheaters and catacombs, train trips, rides on a sardine-packed metro, and microbuses. While I had a wonderful time, I'm glad to be back in Kenya, with my own dresser, English-speakers, (slightly) fewer people, and familiar surroundings. Funny how leaving home away from home makes it seem sweeter.

MAA/NUA SMerfs gearing up
for some ice skating

One of my favorite moments of the past two weeks: Chilling with the NUA crew on our last night in Cairo. The Kenyan SMs and Egyptian SMs took to the malls - ice skating, McDonalds-ing, and mechanical bull riding. It was a step back to see the big picture: volunteers from everywhere, to everywhere, with the same good-news goal in mind. At church I was greeted with "Happy Sabbath" as well as "Sab Said" (sp?).

Sunset on the Nile

I was reminded that we really are a very small piece of the puzzle, a part of a worldwide family...

Well, I digress. There were so many more adventures and experiences, but they'll have to wait until we can sit down to a cup of tea. Speaking of tea, that reminds me of another story...but that will wait, too.

Don't think I've forgotten about my request for your holiday stories! Assignment due within two days.

Lots of love! (the sisterly kind. Don't get any marriage proposals in mind...)

Journal Entry

I'm really sick of being white. I'm sick of being a girl, too. And an American, and a foreigner, and... agh. Maybe I'm just sick of being away from home. And I'm not ready for another semester at MAA.
I'm reassuring myself with the idea that second semester has to be better than first, and first wasn't terrible.
Agh.
I just want to be comfortable.
I think I'm beginning to realize that "Christian" and "comfortable" are not synonyms.
That makes me uncomfortable.

In order to be a Christian, must I be comfortable with being uncomfortable?
In this world, yes.
Gross.

December 15, 2010

I've been waiting for this day for a while. It's the first day of Christmas break...kids are bidding farewell left and right.

At camp, kids go home after just a week. A week is long enough to get to know the excited side of a person...4 months is long enough to get to know the ups and downs, ins and outs of someone.



On September 21, I noted that I was afraid to grow to love work here. I knew it'd hurt to leave it. On October 8, I wondered why we make new friends when we know it leads to more farewells.

As excited as I thought I'd be to see the students off, I'm getting a little lonesome. It will be nice to have a break, but I don't want to have the break without the students. The campus is going to be reallllly empty.

I think I'm afraid of being happy because whenever I get too happy something bad always happens. -Charlie Brown (Charles Schulz)


I've been avoiding liking life here. I like life at home so much, I don't want to be missing a life away from home when I get back. I've been guarding my heart, unwilling to be happy, comparing life now to life I know.

I'm going to miss this.
I knew I would.

I don't regret allowing myself to love it.
I thought I would.

I guess it's (kind of) like having kids. You know they're going to ooze from every orifice, but you want to have them anyway. You know they'll cry and whine and moan and keep you home and away from social outings with friends, but you want to have them anyway. You know they're going to grow up to be teenagers and act like they hate your guts, yet you want to have them anyway.
I know these students won't remember dilution equations next year; I'm lucky if they remember it for the period. I know they won't pay as much attention as I like while I'm explaining their homework for the umpteenth time. I know they'll show up late to class, and won't turn in their work, and will glare at me when I shush them in the library. I suspect they won't open up and spill their life stories...
yet I still want to serve them.

How much greater and more vastly unfathomable is the love of a King who would serve a nation that despises Him?

Life in Books

Reading of home is like reading a worn edition of a classic. I can read of snow and cold and fireplaces, but it's simply a distant memory that I can feel long ago, an environment that I can relate to; the characters are no more real than Huckleberry Finn or Oliver Twist.

Perhaps it's a defense mechanism. I can read the story, enjoying the mood and the scenery and the emotions of the characters, but I don't have to be wrapped up in them. I'm not missing from the story. I don't have to deal with those feelings if I don't feel like it.


It's easier to believe that home is on pause, frozen in the pages of a book. A "to be continued..." that has a 10 month hiatus between editions.

Here Comes the Bride

Marriage = green card.
Marriage = popularity and fame.
Marriage = Jessica's near future?

Daniel speaking with 60s-man

Meet Daniel. A couple weeks ago, three hearty men (in their 20s, 30s, and 60s respectively) and one ill-informed lady took to the hills for a Sabbath afternoon trek. Daniel is from the Maasai village, a friend of the 30s-man. Daniel offered to show us around the hills.
Jessica is an mzungu (foreigner, European, white person, etc.). Jessica is also a female. These two qualities combine to make a prime candidate for a wife.

"So, Jaysca; you are not married?"
"Nope. Not yet..."
"And you live in the United States?"
"Yep! In cold Wisconsin."
"I've always wanted to visit America...will you be married soon?"
"Uh, um, yes! As soon as I get back home. Yep."
"Oh. ...You have friends?"


Oh boy.
I wonder how many cows I'm worth?

A Tale of Two Packages

It was a simple package; an off-brand ziploc bag with a message in permanent marker: "For Jessica Stotz. A taste of Wisconsin." The contents were invaluable: two slabs of cheddar and colby jack cheese (certified Wisconian) and a bottle of Wisconsin-brewed Sprecher root beer. Oh, beautiful joy.

An unedited, unlabored, unrestrained bbbbblah

It's Christmas Eve.

I haven't battled the crowds to get that special something for my family members.
I haven't made my yearly snowman/snowangel/dash through the snow barefoot.

I've just dined on mashed potatoes, green beans, and meatloaf (with Bullseye!) with two other Maxwell families.

I'm more worried about my family than I am about myself. This is a good thing.

If I had a choice, of course I'd be with my family now. But I wouldn't trade in this meal, either. I guess I'd choose to have all three families together...but Mom would accuse me of being too political. ;)

Christmas Eve is going to be ok. I'll love Christmas Eve a year from now too, though. I'm just praying that Christmas at home is happy. I feel special that there's a Jess-sized hole there, but I hope it's the kind of hole that makes people happy when they notice it.

Merry Christmas, family. I can't wait to celebrate it with ALL of you...maybe the shepherds will be there, too.

Journal Entry

Unto us a Son is given; unto us a Child is born. He shall be our King forever. Worthy is the Lamb, Who became flesh and dwelt among us! He shall reign forever and ever! Glory to GOD in the highest, and on earth: Peace to men.
Come (again) quickly, Lord Jesus, for we have this hope.

Ahh, the Power of Cheese

What am I doing right now? Enjoying a little piece of heaven.

Even I had forgotten how absolutely wonderful Wisconsin cheese is...it's a good thing there's no one else in my apartment to witness my face-stuffing, finger-licking snarfage. Oh wow. It's like a candy bar, but better. I can only bear to eat a small chunk at a time. Oooh the sharp bite! The rich aroma! The slightly squeaky texture! Mystery friend from Union who sent me this taste of Wisconsin, you are loved. Oh so much.

Happiness. Wrapped.

Merry Christmas. Seriously.

(Santa agrees with me: watch this)

Jessica's Recipe for "Happily Exhausted"

1 brunch, cooked and served for 100 people
1 water park
2 water slides
1 pool
1 nap in the sunshine
1 amazing candlelit supper with SMs at a lovely house on the hill
Songs around the piano, as desired
1 Skype date with friend until 12:30p
1 sunrise on the mountain at 5:40a
4 bumpy rides in 2 Land Cruisers 
1 breakfast of mangoes and granola
1 30 minute nap
1 Maasai "friend" looking for an American mzungu wife (So, Jayssca, you are not married? You are
        young? Are you married soon? Do you have friends? I have always wanted to visit America...)
4 hours of hiking in the rocky highlands, traversing rocky/dusty/slippery/grassy terrain between 1800m
        and 2500m altitude (*wheeze*)
1 locked apartment door
1 forced entry
1 shower (oh, glorious day)
1 water heater turned BBQ grill
2 paving tiles heated upon above grill
4 pieces of pizza from said grill
896 spiders and webs cleaned from corners of church
1 late-night nap
1 Skype date with the parents (first time to see them in 4 months!)

Combine all ingredients in a 40hr period. Bake under African sun long enough to get two different sunburn lines. Bundle into bed to recuperate.

Things to look for at an African water park

• Men in Hanes. Nothing else.
• Women in white t-shirts and shorts. Nothing else.
• Boys wearing red tights. 
• Men wearing wind pants and wind jacket set.
• Swimsuits worn OVER shorts.
• Lifeguards without a lick of red on them.
• Bellows echoing from the mouth of a water slide as three grown men splash into the pool, giggling at themselves while a gathered crowd chuckles and points jovially.
• Numerous shaded huts, but no chairs to sun by the pool.
• Hundreds of HUGE smiles.