“If the shoe fits, it's too expensive."

In my case I actually had to pay 3000 CFA. The equivalent of about $6. So, don't make the same mistake as I did and leave your house shoes on as you walk out the front door.
By the way, I've got a nice looking pair of leather sandals for sale. I'll make you a good offer. Let's say 5000 CFA. What do you say?

To church in new shoes

10:15 am. Everybody is halfway ready to go to church. I put the phone on mute and set my sandals by the front door. As we step out Fiona sees that our dog has dug up half of Kathy’s cornfield. So, my autopilot takes over and I have a serious talk with the brainless K9. I believe her body actually shrank to the size of a walnut during the conversation. But her dirty feet are still giving her away. Eventually, everybody is in the car. We’ve just taken the first turn when I realise that I’m still wearing my house shoes. Of course, I can’t go to church in flip-flops, but we don’t have time to turn around. Just then Kathy sees some shoes by the side of the road. I stop, reverse (almost running over a motorcycle), and try on. Two minutes later I am the new owner of some very African looking sandals. And off we go. I like Africa, when things are simple and uncomplicated.

The heart of the matter

Almost exactly 5 weeks ago, I (Kathy) began taking an antibiotic. It was one I don't remember ever taking before and I was given a large dose of it. I took it in the morning and then again in the evening like I was told to do. That night, I woke up with racing pulse, palpitations and nausea. It really scared me because I had no idea what had started it and what to do about it. I mean, we don't really have an emergency room we can go to. It was frightening, which didn't help the whole situation. Roger--by, I believe, divine guidance--thought of the antibiotic. After reading the paper that went with the med., we figured it must be the culprit. I began drinking and drinking and drinking water and by the time morning came round, was a bit better. We called a friend who recommended a heart clinic here in town. We went there and they did an ECG. By that time my pulse was normal and nothing abnormal showed on the ECG. I still had some restlessness for at least a day and it took a few more to finally start to feel relatively normal. However, I kept having a funny "fluttering" feeling which scared me and took my energy, and went back to the cardiologist. I did the full 24 hr, doppler ECG and the heart sonogram-thingy as well as blood tests. It showed my heart is healthy but that I have an "extra heartbeat". I have had this before (or rather noticed it before, many people have it but never notice it) but stopping caffeine always makes things right again. This time, nothing has helped. Apparently, the drug reaction started it going.

Now I take a medicine to try and calm it down a bit. I have done some internet research to see what other people say about it. I realize it's not something that will go away with medicine and that if I think and worry about it, it'll just be made worse. (Most people were totally consumed by the fatigue and stress brought on when the heart begins "fluttering" and I don't want to be like that, at all!)

It all "brought me to my knees" (actually, I was standing, hanging a very large load of laundry) and I asked God to give me the grace to live with my "thorn in the flesh" that He's given me. I pray daily for Him to show what He wants me to learn from this. I realize that He could take it away entirely, but not until He wants to. I also believe that, for now, He wants me to learn from this. He wants to be made powerful in my weakness. Therefore, I would like to ask each of you to pray with me that I can have the grace to live with this and learn from it. It, as far as the tests showed, is not lethal--no more than driving on the streets here in Togo is--but it may be a long time before I am totally free from this extra heartbeat (PVC) and feeling tired and breathless when it comes on for longer periods of time. It would be all too easy to feel sorry for myself in all this and get stressed about it. I don't want to become like that.

Thanks! (sorry this is so long)

Life is never boring

Sunday, Fiona turned 9 and we had planned a big party. All told, there were 17 kids, from 1 to 11 years old. I think everyone had a good time. There was certainly enough mess for lots of fun to have happened (why is it that good times seem to be messy when kids are involved?). Anyway, during the party, just as I was ready to bring the kids in for an indoor game where there was a/c and we could have a reprieve from the heat and humidity, the electricity went. That, in itself, is relatively common and we thought it would be back in a half hour or so. However, very soon afterwards, someone came to say that a big truck had just passed in front of our house and broken the electric cable, that runs to our house, in two. This was far more serious. Roger headed out to finish connecting our generator. He hadn’t gotten as far as he perhaps thought he had a few weeks ago and ended up working hard for about an hour and a half. He finally got it running at around 5:30-6 ish, just as it was getting dark.

We weren’t sure what to do about sleeping, since we couldn’t run the generator all night and it would get really hot without any electricity. Although Roger, with the help of a French friend—to try and get the real urgency of the message across—had contacted the electricity company right away at about 4pm when it happened, we didn’t expect anyone to come out until Monday or even later. However, by 8pm, they were here repairing the wire. It was lovely to have our electricity back so quickly and was truly a miracle to have it right away. However, it came at a price. They wired it up incorrectly and burned some light fixtures and 1 a/c. Roger got it all sorted and by bedtime, we had electricity and our rooms were cool. Praise God for getting the electric company to come out right away (4 hours later is right away here) and that we have a husband/father who knew what to do to get everything sorted.

The Midas Touch--NOT

What do you call someone who has the opposite of the Midas Touch? Sadim perhaps (Midas backwards) or maybe, Sodum. Well, however you say it, we've met him--the "man with the opposite of the Midas Touch". He came to our house in the disguise of a plumber and got the house ready for us to live in. So far, there is nothing he touched that hasn't had to be repaired, or if it hasn't had to be repaired yet, we're just waiting with bated breath for it to break. We even had a water heater fall off the wall because he had used some plastic washer things to hold it onto the wall. Good thing no one was under it at the time.

We have had so many problems that needed a better plumber. We found one. He actually repairs things and leaves them in good order. (He really likes our house, I believe, because we are financing his children's education) Anyway, Bartheleme is pretty useful and ends up being called frequently.

Our latest problem has been a busted pipe (see above photo) that took hot water from a heater to the kitchen and laundry room. Since the pipes are always firmly encased in concrete blocks and floors, it was a major undertaking to find the leak. He found it and fixed it--with only a minimal amount of wall busting, for which I am very grateful.

In the midst of fixing this, the faucet in the kitchen broke ("the man..." installed a real piece of junk). Now we are waiting for this to be fixed.

Bartheleme is not bad, but he never comes when he says he'll come, even when we have an "emergency" (like the pump not working). I wish I had a dime for every hour I've wasted waiting on the man. Today is no exception. He said yesterday that he'd have everything done today by lunchtime. I said, "We'll see." He repeated that he'd have it done by lunchtime, and I repeated what I said. then, just as he was about to repeat himself for a 3rd time, he laughed and said, "We'll see." It's now 4:45 and he still isn't here. We have no hot water to the kitchen sink, haven't had all week.

We'll see...

Student Trials

We are down to 5 students. Claire, the lady with the infant, did not return to class after her 2 month internship at a local radio station. When talking to her on the phone she told me that she was not feeling well. I thought it had more to with the $200 in fees she still owes the school.
About 10 days ago she came to the office to explain her situation. Yes, she is having trouble coming up with the money, but she wants to continue with the course. But unfortunately, she won't be doing anything in the coming months. On the night after her visit she was taken to hospital on account of a heart attack. She knew that her blood pressure had been high, but nobody expected it being that serious. When visiting her, the doctor had not yet started her treatment, since the medicine was going to affect her little son. So she will have to wean him first.

Most of the other students have had similar problems paying their fees, but nobody else has had a heart attack over it. I've been nice to them, trying to understand their situations. I've been mean, threatening them with expulsion. I have written letters and called their parents. Nothing seems to work. The students seem genuinely ashamed of it and the pressure is even affecting their performance in class. My colleagues believe that they will pay eventually, since all of them want their diploma. In fact, the piece of paper seems to be more important to people than the actual skill and knowledge gained. However, in the meantime I am struggling to make ends meet. On Friday I didn't have enough money to give to the cook to buy the food for the next two weeks. So, we started to economize by scrapping a meal. It is only the 10-o'clock break so far, but the next one to go is either lunch or dinner, if the students don't cough up some dough soon.

Whatever the situation, I'm not going to allow myself to worry. I believe that God will provide for our media school. He already has me convinced, since I have experienced his faithfulness so many times. I believe God wants the students to experience him as Jehovah Jireh. This morning I read a promise God made through the prophet Joel. I think it is the kind of experience I wish for our students to have too.

 2:26 You will have plenty to eat, until you are full,
       and you will praise the name of the LORD your God,
       who has worked wonders for you;
       never again will my people be shamed.

helping the helpless

A week ago, I was a medic for a day. I visited some villages with Maritza, a doctor friend who volunteers a few days a week at a clinic about 30m/50km from Lome. She works at the clinic but also goes with the local pastor to various villages. This is what we did last week. We got out of the car, set our box of “goodies” on a chair under a tree, and got to work. There were a number of people who had boils on their skin, which had become infected and needed cleaning. I got really good at squirting Betadine cleanser on gauze pads for Maritza to clean the wounds. I was also the antibiotic cream squirter and bandage holder. Pastor Hammer cut the sticky bandages. There were some really disgusting wounds, the worst of which was a lady who had a hand and foot with really bad leprosy. It’s really sad. These people live in a village about 10km/6m from Vogan, where the “hospital” and leprosy clinic are. Leprosy treatment is free in this country but transportation to the clinic is not. This lady’s husband left her when she got sick and she has had no money to go to the clinic. She goes to meet the doctor or nurse who comes out from Pastor Hammer’s clinic, about every other day, to have her wounds cleaned. That’s about the best treatment she can hope for.

I believe the most heart-wrenching thing I witnessed was a little baby who was slowly starving. His mother had left him with his grandmother who already had other children to take care of and this one wasn’t a real priority to her. Although the grandmother had been given soy
formula and shown how to use it, she obviously hadn’t done it right. The boy was terribly anemic and hungry. Hammer talked to the grandmother while Maritza gave him some iron. I can only pray that the lady will actually feed the infant now and give him the medicine. I found myself incredibly upset because I felt so helpless. Unfortunately, it is complicated. There are no social services here. It’s up to the family and village. I have a hard time watching the TV and seeing programs where people spend loads of money to save a little kitten, when there are babies starving to death because of poverty and a lack of education.

By the end of the day, I was VERY dirty, tired and hungry, since we didn’t eat lunch until 4pm. However, I felt somehow changed because of my day as a medic. I realized how desperate these villagers are and how difficult life is for them. I also realized that Maritza and the other medics there, although they work hard, are really only scratching the surface of the problems facing these people. I have a whole new respect for them.