Oh Happy Day!

-       3-18-13

On Friday, March 15 Betsie and I had briefly discussed wanting to go on a hike on Saturday because it would give us something to do and neither one of us had been to Fanna Falls, the waterfalls that’re about 1.5-2 hours up the mountain from the compound. At that point it was just an idea thrown out in passing. Then, I had to go teach 5A that day during 4^th period where we were only going to be reviewing for our vocabulary quiz that was scheduled for the following Monday. In the midst of review, the class monitor, Mechal Gossaye, mentioned some of the boys from the class were going to be going to Fanna on Saturday and asked if I wanted to go (this was all in extremely broken English of course) and I excitedly accepted the invitation. We discussed meeting at the compound at 8:30 on Saturday morning. However, most times when you discuss plans with and Ethiopian they’re either extremely late or someone misunderstand and nothing ends up coming from it at all. So, that’s kind of what I thought was going to happen. I told Betsie that they wanted to go and she agreed to go along on the adventure.

On Saturday morning, Bets asked me if I had set plans with the boys and I had told her yes but I doubt that it actually meant anything. So we went to breakfast that Saturday morning and I was just taking my time drinking my coffee and at about 8:35 Betsie encouraged me to go see if anyone was there yet. Just about that time, Sachi called me from outside and said some of my babies were looking for me. When I went out to meet them, they asked me if I was ready and I told them I needed to finish my coffee and they said “ok” and as they were walking away Ezedin turned back around and yelled out “Quickly!” HAHA!! I love that he told me to finish my coffee quickly. After quickly finishing my coffee and packing my backpack full of supplies, Betsie and I headed out and found 4 boys waiting patiently for us. So, we began our journey with only 4 boys and Bets even made the comment of, “We’re probably going to gain so many more by the time we get up there.” She called it because we ended up with 13 of my 5^th grade boys and one 6^th grade boy. Mechal (the monitor I mentioned before) was pretty much the leader of the day’s outing. At one point he disappeared for a few minutes and Betsie and I wanted to wait for him but all of the other boys assured us that he was coming and we should go ahead because our last two adventurers, Dawit and Shifa, were waiting for us a little bit up the hill. When Mechal finally reappeared he was accompanied by a couple of bags of supplies and was set for the the rest of the journey.

At this point, all had joined the ranks that would be with us for the day and we were well on our way. With me, I had brought my camera and iphone to document the day. The best decision I had made that day was giving my camera to the boys and allowing them to be in charge of documenting from that point of view. They LOVED it. They were so cute with it wanting to make sure to capture the scenery and of course a series of solo shots in addition to chaotic group shots. And they were probably more careful with it than I would have been. They were all so concerned about whether or not Betsie and I needed help carrying our backpacks. They simply would not take no for an answer. After denying the help for a while, I decided they wouldn’t be satisfied until I relinquished my pride and let one of them carry the backpack. I made sure to remind them that I’m not old and they all just laughed. Something tells me they believe something different but I guess that’s neither here nor there. It was also so sweet to see how worried some of the boys became if either Betsie or I would fall the slightest bit behind. Dawit, in particular, would not let either one of us walk behind him. He was the self-proclaimed caboose in order to make sure everyone was accounted for.

When we finally reached the first falls, the boys stripped off their outer layers so that only ratty old shorts remained on their small little bodies and jumped in the water with the biggest possible smiles on their faces. Keep in mind these kids live in a landlocked country in an area that’s at least an hour and a half away from the nearest lake which means they’ve never seen it because they can’t afford to take a trip even that short of a distance. I say that because the smallest of swimming holes is like seeing an ocean. While they were “swimming” around, (it was more like glorified drowning so it was a good thing the water was only thigh high) they were yelling over and over again “TEACHER MANDY, ONE PHOTO!” They were literally the happiest kids in the world. I’m convinced of it. It literally took all self-control not to break down in tears because their happiness was so contagious. It is my favorite thing ever to see kids being kids. There’s absolutely nothing better. Nothing.

After we had taken a sufficient amount of photos of everyone jumping and splashing in the water, it was time for our picnic lunch. As it had turned out, the reason Mechal went missing at the beginning was because he had to make sure lunch was taken care of. In his bags of supplies he had bought a few loaves of bread and a couple bags of kolo (which is just roasted barley seeds and the closest thing to trail mix as we were getting.) The boys were ecstatic about their simple lunches and all took their share of bread and seeds. Betsie and I were delighted to share in such a feast. These boys were even SO sweet as to share with some of the random village children who had become part of our troop. Then, just when we thought it couldn’t get any better… it did. The boys had purchased 2 cokes and presented one to me and one to Betsie. They were so excited about treating us to a surprise and were all so proud of themselves. A single coca-cola. The most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received. We, then, all got to indulge in a single starburst each (thanks Mom for the candy supply.) It’s so fun to share American things with them because they think it’s the coolest thing ever.

Following our picnic, the boys went on to see a second falls and Bets and I hung back to lay in the sun for a few minutes until they returned. When they did, it was time to navigate our way back home and as we did some of the boys started saying and repeating “Whew wee today!” and “Excellent day!” One boy, Ezedin, quietly asked me if I was happy. Moment number two where it was terribly difficult to hold back my tears. I’m not sure if they’ll ever understand how truly happy and joyful I really was.

Upon some reflecting, there were pieces I began to put together. I realized these boys, Mechal, Dawit, Shifa, Tariku, Adane, Biniyam, Anwar, Welde, Amare, Taju, Nuri, Shumbezza, Ezedin, and Mulubrehan, had planned this outting together just because they all wanted to hang out and go to the falls and for some reason they decided to invite me along. Their teacher. A girl. I don’t get it but I sure am glad they did. Another thing I realized is that they all had pulled their money together in order to purchase our lunch and cokes. I figured it out because I asked where another boy, Toha, was and someone simply replied, “Toha no money.” Initially, I didn’t understand why Toha would need money for our walk, but after being treated like queens it occurred to me that if one couldn’t contribute, they weren’t allowed to join us. Ha it’s a bit harsh, but it is what it is I suppose.

We concluded the day by all sitting at a shai bait (tea house) where the boys acted like little men by sipping hot tea and enjoying more bread. All in all, it was the best Saturday I’ve ever had. Bold statement? Maybe so, but I’m pretty sure it’s true.

I. Love. These. Kids. 

Beautifully Mundane

3/5/13

Ok so here’s the deal. I never thought I’d even be a blogging person at all. I never have thought that the things of my simple life were worth posting on the World Wide Web for anyone to read. My life felt normal and why would any normal person feel like they needed to share their life with everyone else. But then I decided I was going to move to Africa and that actually didn’t feel normal at all. That’s when I decided I would start one of those trendy tell-all pages known as blogs. It made sense. I was about to embark on this crazy African life where every day was going to be new and blog-worthy and it was going to be the easiest way for me to keep everyone updated who actually cared about what I was doing over here on this side of the world. Now, I’ll admit when I first got here I felt like every day was new and blog-worthy and I wanted everyone to know about how funny my life is these days. I wanted everyone to know about this vastly different culture I’ve been immersed in and the different things that happen on a daily basis. I was ambitious and thought I’d be an avid blogger. As you and I both know that ambition quickly turned to reality and I’ve failed as a blogger. When I had the chance to be home for 2 weeks in February I was scolded several times by various people (Ms. Elizabeth Blankenship was the most passionate) about the lack of posts that I’ve provided. I’d like to take this time to defend myself and report the reason why I’ve begun to slack is because once again my life feels normal. I don’t want this to come across as a negative thing. On the contrary, it’s a beautiful thing. I am so incredibly thankful for normalcy. It makes me realize that I am just living life here with and for the people.

So after putting so much emphasis on the fact that I feel normal here, I would like to share with you some of the “normal” parts of my life that I am so deeply thankful for…

I love the playful banter between my students and me. I love the way we argue every day about whether my name is Mandy or Monday and how they are NOT the same. And then when they giggle because they know the difference and they brought it up to see me get heated. I love the way Mohammed from my 5B class speaks to me in jibberish and when I speak it back he just nods and pretends like he understands what I’m saying. I loved the way Sebele gasped “Mandy!” the first time I saw her on the road after I was gone for 3 weeks and then she just giggled throughout our entire embrace. I love when Selam writes “You are 32 crazies” in her exercise book when I’m checking for homework and SHE HASN’T EVEN DONE HER HOMEWORK and then the look on her face when she discovers I’ve written her back saying “You are 108 crazies.” I love sitting at the flag pole during free time after 3^rd period and being surrounded by 5^th and 6^th graders and everyone else wondering why it’s even happening but those of us hanging out know it’s just because we’re friends. I love getting the chance to make animal noises in grade 6 because we’re learning about animals and why the heck not??? I love getting the opportunity to act as the school clinic and bandage the wounds of so many kids in the school. It’s always a sweet moment of trust and care. So there you have it folks a normal day in the life of Mandy Bolling.

As I reflect on the normalcy of life and how even the most mundane of instances can hold such beauty, I just can’t stop thinking about the fact that Jesus lived for THIRTY YEARS as a normal human being before he “started” his ministry (although we all know he was anything but normal). I imagine that he lived in a place that was really similar to where I live now and was just like the children I get the chance to know now. You know doing normal things like walking with his donkey and cart as they haul things to market once or twice a week, or making a trek to the river or well to lug huge containers of water back to his house so that his mother can cook and clean, or sleeping on a grass mat on the floor without a pillow that gets rolled away during the day because his bedroom is the same as the living room, kitchen, dining room, and study. Jesus’ 33 year long residency upon this Earth has made me realize how cool it is to get to live life with people. Just to walk through the scrapes and bruises these kids allow me to mend, to be with them as they let their imaginations run wild when they think we hold a secret language, to have on-going jokes the neither party gets tired of making, to eat meals together, to exchange stories, and to just know.

All I’m saying is that it would be cool enough for the God of the universe to humble himself for just the duration of his 3-year ministry, but how incredible is it that he lived here for 30 years prior to that?! That’s 8 years longer than I’ve even been alive! Could we ask for a better example for relational ministry? Here’s to hoping we allow the Holy Spirit to give us the courage to follow His lead!

Thank you for caring enough to read about what’s happening over here and then my rambling thoughts (maybe that’s why I never should’ve been a blogger in the first place.) May God bless you. For real.