Most of you are familiar with the exciting snow days of the winter season. Students and teachers alike cross their fingers as they wait to see their school name scroll across the screen for a cancellation--or at least a delay. As you might have guessed, we don't get to many snow days here in Nigeria.
But political-related days are granted with the same amount of notice. As I was finishing getting ready for my Friday, my roommate received a call saying that classes were canceled today. I had a strange mixture of relief, wonder and fear. Part of my consciousness reverted to school-girl days when I peered out my window to find a freshly-laid blanket of snow that warmed my heart. However, another part of me went to a place I only heard about from 2001: the Jos Crisis (a time of rampant rioting and violence between the Christians and the Muslims in this area). My imagination could only wander.
For more facts, visit my sister's blog: renemarshall.blogspot.com
Last I heard, the violence is not near my compound or Rene's, but should it make its way down here, Hillcrest would be an ideal target, being an American Christian school. The smoky cloud from early morning tire-burning has lightened up a bit, but it still lingers the north end of the city. New smoke is rising from fires from burning churches and mosques. I just talked to a Nigerian man from the business office in the school, and he is concerned about the evening. Come nighttime, reinforcements may be brought in and plans may be made to target more people. He does not think this is something that will blow over in a day, rather it is likely to escalate.
It is 2:30 now and I'm still hearing gun shots; I have been since I woke up. The plan is to remain in the compound and get ahead on the lesson plans for next week's English. Meanwhile, darkness looms outside the walls and in the sky. Although the action is too far for me to really be worried for myself, I still sing "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" and take comfort in His mighty name.
Please pray for peace and safety, for there are those who are out and vulnerable.
Eph 3:20,21 Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us,Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus2424 throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.
Heb 7:25 Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them.
PS: tried yet againt to upload some pic so you could see this smoke, but something with my endearing computer just won't let me... =/
Friday, November 28, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
"Home is where your rump rests"
Oh Pumba, the great philosopher (from The Lion King).
I was thinking today about the idea of “home.” Many people around me sing praises of Nigeria, of Africa; oh how they love it here! Sure, I’m enjoying myself and find the people endearing and the culture fascinating and fun. However, I don’t feel so strongly to say that THIS is where I am made to live my life. After more searching, I couldn’t find anything specific that I was missing or looking for. Rather, I can honestly say that I could see myself in any conceivable situation—for a time. I laugh, picturing me at the end of my life like the bridesmaid on 27 Dresses, owning a miniature wardrobe required for each stage of life during which I lived in a different part of the world. There is not a particular place where I dream of living. Further, I expect my life to be essentially the same no matter where I find myself because it will consist of simply loving and living out Christ, regardless of my occupation.
That leads me to wonder if I will ever make a home for myself or what I will call home in the end. At this point, I am not emotionally affected at this uncertainty. Being fresh out of university, I’m used of having two locations that are both my home: my dorm in Columbia, SC and my parent’s place in Brown Summit, NC. I have no problem, therefore, calling where I am living now as my home as much as Brown Summit is. (I’d like to make a disclaimer at this point to say that I am not pretending to fully understanding my MK and TCK friends, but it’s interesting how traveling can change you.)
This world is not my home, and yet, it has been given to me to enjoy and take care of. Perhaps shedding my nationality as my identification is the first step to feeling deeply the brotherhood of all men everywhere.
Looking to the Lord,
Kari
Eph 4:2-4 “With all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”
PS: I couldn’t think of a good place to put this last thought—what better place than a p.s.? I firstly and ultimately love God, and He is my source of love for any group of people. Therefore, I choose to go to a place because I love God, not necessarily because I love that particular people more than any other. Otherwise, my loyalties would be skewed.
I was thinking today about the idea of “home.” Many people around me sing praises of Nigeria, of Africa; oh how they love it here! Sure, I’m enjoying myself and find the people endearing and the culture fascinating and fun. However, I don’t feel so strongly to say that THIS is where I am made to live my life. After more searching, I couldn’t find anything specific that I was missing or looking for. Rather, I can honestly say that I could see myself in any conceivable situation—for a time. I laugh, picturing me at the end of my life like the bridesmaid on 27 Dresses, owning a miniature wardrobe required for each stage of life during which I lived in a different part of the world. There is not a particular place where I dream of living. Further, I expect my life to be essentially the same no matter where I find myself because it will consist of simply loving and living out Christ, regardless of my occupation.
That leads me to wonder if I will ever make a home for myself or what I will call home in the end. At this point, I am not emotionally affected at this uncertainty. Being fresh out of university, I’m used of having two locations that are both my home: my dorm in Columbia, SC and my parent’s place in Brown Summit, NC. I have no problem, therefore, calling where I am living now as my home as much as Brown Summit is. (I’d like to make a disclaimer at this point to say that I am not pretending to fully understanding my MK and TCK friends, but it’s interesting how traveling can change you.)
This world is not my home, and yet, it has been given to me to enjoy and take care of. Perhaps shedding my nationality as my identification is the first step to feeling deeply the brotherhood of all men everywhere.
Looking to the Lord,
Kari
Eph 4:2-4 “With all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”
PS: I couldn’t think of a good place to put this last thought—what better place than a p.s.? I firstly and ultimately love God, and He is my source of love for any group of people. Therefore, I choose to go to a place because I love God, not necessarily because I love that particular people more than any other. Otherwise, my loyalties would be skewed.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Time Warp
Ever have the feeling that time has both stopped and sped up? I’m sitting here, looking back on the past month and amazed at how I lack a sense of time! I can assure that life has been eventful, but how could I possibly relate that to you?
My dearest sister has already recorded the pleasant camping/hiking trip we took with a group of singles. We trekked around Sheri Hills, a mountainous range that contains the highest point on the plateau. For those of you who won’t check out Rene’s blog (although, you would be missing out on a true treat), suffice it to say that we got lost several times, camped next to a 100ft waterfall, and had wonderful chats beside the campfire at night. We picked out trail names for each other, which, according to Rene, is a tradition for seasoned trail hikers. Since then, God has been teaching me plenty, plenty!
Among the more profound things, I discovered that I could—against popular belief—possibly play basketball! Who knew? I always assumed I was horribly inept at the sport. About a week ago, I was asked if I play basketball. Upon my firm, “Never a game in my life,” I was then asked if I could be an able body to scrimmage against our high school varsity team. “If you really are that desperate, then maybe you won’t be worse off having me on the court.” Consequently, I found myself on the court on Halloween night, still wondering how exactly I got myself in this position. I purposefully avoided conversation with my students about the upcoming event, hoping they would all have something better to do than watch the game. Who was I kidding? Half the school was there to witness my pending humiliation! I made the best of the night by pulling knowledge from every other sport that I can claim adequate skill in as well as a measure of lunacy that prompted me to make an absolutely ridiculous attempt at a goal at the last second of the first half. Picture a move that resembles something of a discus toss and a ballerina. I’m sure my students are stunned at how Miss Marshal can be two completely different people!
In other news, I attended my first Nigerian wedding. Four of us girls bought the same fabric so that we would all match—polar opposite idea from the American girls whose entire evening would be destroyed if they were caught wearing the same dress as another! I even got a headdress made to fit in with the Nigerians—right, like I blend in! The procession started in the church around 10:00am and I left the reception before it got started at 3:30. I was hot, tired, and mentally occupied with my responsibility to the classroom. I sincerely wanted to stay through it all (okay, I really wanted in on the dancing), the work I had to do was looming over my head. Besides being extremely long and in Hausa, the ceremony was characterized by special groups singing, a few congregational songs, a skit, sermon, and an offering during which the congregation dances down in front of the couple to give their financial gift. Other things that weren’t so familiar: EVERYONE got a scheduled picture with the newly weds; though the bridesmaids were listed, I couldn’t pick them out; the couple didn’t kiss for us; and reception was almost just as programmed as the ceremony—we had to sit down in rows of chairs. In spite of all that, the whole deal seemed familiar: we were in a church, most people had special attire, the bride wore white and the groom had a suit, there were flower girls, a preacher, and a cake-cutting at the reception.
This is Briska, me, and Dana entering the church...yes, we are dancing!
On the school front, all I can say is that it sure feels good when I’m doing something right! It’s been a Sherlock Holms game, at times, to figure out just what will trigger each student to desire and be able to learn. As I explore techniques, I’ve been clinging to 1 Cor 1:17-3:16. The main focus of the passage is to highlight God’s power rather than man’s wisdom or cleverness. It is my constant request that the Lord’s power is known, whether through my abilities or inabilities. I am constantly reminded that I’m not only teaching English, but also Christ and life with Him. So is EVERY believer’s profession.
Through “Christ, the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor 1:24),
Kari
My dearest sister has already recorded the pleasant camping/hiking trip we took with a group of singles. We trekked around Sheri Hills, a mountainous range that contains the highest point on the plateau. For those of you who won’t check out Rene’s blog (although, you would be missing out on a true treat), suffice it to say that we got lost several times, camped next to a 100ft waterfall, and had wonderful chats beside the campfire at night. We picked out trail names for each other, which, according to Rene, is a tradition for seasoned trail hikers. Since then, God has been teaching me plenty, plenty!
Among the more profound things, I discovered that I could—against popular belief—possibly play basketball! Who knew? I always assumed I was horribly inept at the sport. About a week ago, I was asked if I play basketball. Upon my firm, “Never a game in my life,” I was then asked if I could be an able body to scrimmage against our high school varsity team. “If you really are that desperate, then maybe you won’t be worse off having me on the court.” Consequently, I found myself on the court on Halloween night, still wondering how exactly I got myself in this position. I purposefully avoided conversation with my students about the upcoming event, hoping they would all have something better to do than watch the game. Who was I kidding? Half the school was there to witness my pending humiliation! I made the best of the night by pulling knowledge from every other sport that I can claim adequate skill in as well as a measure of lunacy that prompted me to make an absolutely ridiculous attempt at a goal at the last second of the first half. Picture a move that resembles something of a discus toss and a ballerina. I’m sure my students are stunned at how Miss Marshal can be two completely different people!
In other news, I attended my first Nigerian wedding. Four of us girls bought the same fabric so that we would all match—polar opposite idea from the American girls whose entire evening would be destroyed if they were caught wearing the same dress as another! I even got a headdress made to fit in with the Nigerians—right, like I blend in! The procession started in the church around 10:00am and I left the reception before it got started at 3:30. I was hot, tired, and mentally occupied with my responsibility to the classroom. I sincerely wanted to stay through it all (okay, I really wanted in on the dancing), the work I had to do was looming over my head. Besides being extremely long and in Hausa, the ceremony was characterized by special groups singing, a few congregational songs, a skit, sermon, and an offering during which the congregation dances down in front of the couple to give their financial gift. Other things that weren’t so familiar: EVERYONE got a scheduled picture with the newly weds; though the bridesmaids were listed, I couldn’t pick them out; the couple didn’t kiss for us; and reception was almost just as programmed as the ceremony—we had to sit down in rows of chairs. In spite of all that, the whole deal seemed familiar: we were in a church, most people had special attire, the bride wore white and the groom had a suit, there were flower girls, a preacher, and a cake-cutting at the reception.
This is Briska, me, and Dana entering the church...yes, we are dancing!
On the school front, all I can say is that it sure feels good when I’m doing something right! It’s been a Sherlock Holms game, at times, to figure out just what will trigger each student to desire and be able to learn. As I explore techniques, I’ve been clinging to 1 Cor 1:17-3:16. The main focus of the passage is to highlight God’s power rather than man’s wisdom or cleverness. It is my constant request that the Lord’s power is known, whether through my abilities or inabilities. I am constantly reminded that I’m not only teaching English, but also Christ and life with Him. So is EVERY believer’s profession.
Through “Christ, the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor 1:24),
Kari
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