In the middle of March, we decided to check on some of the literacy classes in the villages. Since these villages are in an area that isn't necessarily safe for Americans to travel to, I sent my African assistant director, Boro, to spend a weekend with them. He sent me updates throughout his time there, pictures and news. He said that the village classes are doing better than the city classes and we spent time pondering why that is, and how to motivate the city classes to keep up with their village counterparts.
Grain distribution has been an amazing source of joy for the team here. We load up kilos upon kilos of grain, pack ourselves in around it, and drive over the worst roads known to man wondering at each pothole if the over-loaded Jeep is going to fall apart with the next bump. But somehow we always make it, because suddenly the dust will clear and there we are! There we are at a little hut in a village, with the villagers pouring out the door to welcome us. Chattering and laughing and grabbing at our purses to carry them for us, they lead us inside – how did all these people even know we were coming?
Last week we had someone to visit. She lives on the other side of the city, so into the car we went and dodged through African traffic, which of course includes donkeys, camels, overloaded cars, and thousands of pedestrians and motorcycles. The missionaries had warned me that the sweet lady we had gone to visit has been sick. Very sick. For a long time.
I love reading the Christmas story. Even throughout the year, I always get a little thrill of excitement when I open Luke chapter two. Before we do gifts at family Christmas, my niece and nephew have to sit on the floor in front of me while I flip back and forth between Luke’s account and Matthew’s of the birth of a King.