It’s been awhile since I posted an episode of this blog series, but I
thought it was time to tell more of the little stories that make my daily
existence on the World Race interesting. For more vignettes of my odd life, see
Episode 1 and Episode 2.
One day in Nicaragua, we were filming the documentary that we are
making about the kidney illness affecting the sugarcane workers in the town of
Bethel. Joel was shooting with his camera while I was interviewing a woman in
Spanish. Several children lived at the house next door so we asked Tiffany to
make sure that they stayed out of the shot. She stood at the fence separating
the two yards to keep the kids quiet. At the end of the interview she came over
laughing and told us what had gone on without us knowing while we were filming. A kid had walked up to her with a dead iguana in his hand. Then he started peeling the skin off and his dad came over and helped him. They eventually peeled the entire iguana, cut it up, and cooked it into their stew, all while Tiffany was trying not to laugh or make any noise to ruin the shot. Also, at another house a rooster attacked her while she was trying to silence it. She was a trooper during the documentary shooting! My life is weird.
One day in El Salvador, Joy and I went into San Salvador to buy our
team’s bus tickets to debrief in Guatemala. We borrowed our contact Jorge’s van
and hired a friend of his to drive us. As soon as we got to the city the van
broke down, as it was prone to do. The driver managed to pull it into a gas
station parking lot, and we left it there to cool down while we walked to the
bus station to buy the tickets. After our business was done, we returned to the
gas station, only to find that the van wouldn’t start. Our driver left us in
the gas station while he went to find a mechanic. They worked on the van for
about an hour until it started. We made it about half a mile before it broke
again, but thankfully the driver was able to coast it into a mechanic’s shop
where we stayed for another hour while he tried again to fix it. Since I speak
Spanish and we stayed in the car during this round of repairs, I could hear
everything they were saying and I was trying to explain to Joy what was wrong
with the van. After they got it to start once and it died again, the “mechanic”
turned to our driver and said the following: “I know what to do. All we have to
do is put more tape on it and you can go.” They were attempting to fix a major
engine problem with a roll of duct tape, and somehow we made it home in one
piece. Welcome to the World Race. My life is weird.
One day in El Salvador, our contact’s van broke down again on our
way into San Salvador. We were stranded for an hour or so while some local men
helped Jorge get it running again. Then, after we had done all that we needed
to do in the city and were ready to head home, the van broke again. This time
there was no fixing it. Instead we waited at the mall for a couple hours for a
friend to come with a truck, presumably to take us home. But when he got there,
we realized that Jorge meant for him to use his truck to tow our van the entire
way home. Jorge struggles with his blood pressure, and all the stress from the
breakdowns had made it spike, so he was unable to drive. Instead, Brent had to
get behind the wheel for the first time since January. We connected the two
vehicles with a thin piece of rope, which eventually broke and needed to be
replaced, and we drove an hour home through mountainous El Salvador with Brent
steering the van and trying to break just enough that we wouldn’t slam into the
truck without breaking enough to tear the rope again. It was nothing short of
miraculous that we all made it. My life is weird.
One night in El Salvador we were having team time as usual. We were
praying for one of our teammates and our contact Jorge burst into the room with
a long stick. “The rodent is back!” he said. At night, when we were trying to
sleep, we had been hearing loud running noises on the roof all month. We
thought they were rats, but they turned out to be a massive indigenous rodent
of some sort (think The Princess Bride).
Jorge decided enough was enough, and we were going to kill them. First he tried
to beat it, but he kept missing, so he shouted to his ten year old daughter to
bring the pistola. For those of you
who don’t speak Spanish, yes that means gun. Team time had gone from a tranquil
prayer to Brent, Joel, Jorge, and his entire family chasing massive Central
American rodents with sticks and guns. My life is weird.
One night in Thailand we were packing to leave Chiang Mai and go
back to Bangkok. Of course I had left my packing to the last minute as always,
but this time I had a problem. Kayla and I had washed our clothes two days
before we were planning to leave in order to give them time to dry, but
Thailand is more humid than we had guessed. They were still soaking wet, and we
couldn’t pack them like that because they would mold. We did not have a dryer,
and we had already tried pointing a fan at them. Finally we decided our only
hope was to iron them dry. So I spent my last night in Chiang Mai ironing all
of my worn out, athletic-style clothes until every last drop of water was
steamed out of them. It was by far the most ironing I have done in my entire
life, only to stuff everything into a backpack. My life is weird.
One night in Thailand we were at the bar that we ministered at all month. One of the ladyboys who we were friends with walked up to me and said, “That blue shirt that you are wearing makes you look so white and shiny!” In Thailand being white is the ultimate in beauty so she thought she was paying me a great compliment, but what my American mind heard was, “My don’t you look pasty and oily in that shirt.” The joys of culturally different conceptions of beauty. My life is weird.
One night in Thailand some of my teammates were walking back to the
guesthouse we were staying in. Kayla, our Real Life participant, saw a
political sign with a large picture of a man who slightly resembled an Asian
Harry Potter. So, naturally, she decided to complete his look by adding the
trademark lightning bolt scar. It probably helped him get elected. My life is
weird.
One day in Thailand my team was at Chiang Mai University for lunch
like usual. Lunch time there was always an adventure (see previous blog), but
that day was particularly fun. A noodle company was on campus hosting an eating
competition to promote their product, and somehow Joel and Brent ended up
entering. They managed to eat 17 bowls of noodles to win the competition, but we
were sad to find out that the next round would not be hosted until after we
left the country. At least they got a free lunch. My life is weird.
One night in Thailand Katie and Tiffany went to the bar they were
planning to spend the month ministering at for the first time. After about an
hour of getting to know the women, one of the bartenders suggested that Tiffany
take a turn at the microphone. This was not a karaoke bar, but somehow Tiffany
got talked into replacing the hired live entertainment and singing some Beatles
songs. She was such a hit that they asked her to sing there every other night
for the rest of the month, conveniently for free. You really just never know
what your ministry will entail on the World Race-you might become a lounge
singer at a bar that sells Thai prostitutes. My life is weird.
One night in Kenya we decided to have Christmas in July. Our team
drew names for Secret Santa and bought each other presents. Our limit to spend
was 400 Kenya Shillings, which is less than $5 USD. Most of us bought each
other snacks that we knew our teammates liked, useful things like Q-Tips and
highlighters, or fun random things like bicycle reflectors and Jesus Christ
Incense Sticks (yes, that is what I received). But Joel really went out of his
way to make his gift creative. He disappeared earlier in the day with Pastor
Patrick to go to the market and select his gift. When his turn came, he
presented Katie with a plastic grocery bag that was moving. Inside was a live
chicken that Joel named Burt. Burt has become our team pet/mascot, and as such
was not to be left behind in Kenya. On the day of our departure, Pastor P
caught Burt, stuffed him into a cardboard box, and shoved him far under the
seat of our van beneath all the backpacks so that we could get him through
passport control and across the Ugandan border. He is now roaming free on the
land at the school we work at, and we are trying to decide whether to try to
bring him with us to Tanzania or eat him before we leave. My life is weird.
One night in Kenya, Tiffany and I were playing Dutch Blitz by
headlamp as usual. Paris, a girl who lived with us and helped cook our meals,
walked in the room and turned on the TV. At first I just kept playing cards,
but then I stopped because I realized that I could understand what the TV show
was saying. For a minute I couldn’t figure out why I knew what the song said,
and then I realized that it was in Spanish. I looked up and saw that she was
watching a telenovela-a Spanish soap
opera. As soon as the theme song ended, the novela began to be dubbed over in
Swahili and English, and it was by far the most painfully bad acting and
dubbing job that I’ve ever seen, but Paris continued to watch it night after
night at a very high volume. Thank you globalization. My life is weird.
One day in Kenya we went on a safari at the Lake Nakuru Nature
Preserve. As we were sitting and waiting for our driver to use the bathroom,
Brent fell asleep with his arm sticking out the window. He woke up to something
grabbing his arm and he thought it was me from the window behind him. Then he
realized that “my arm” was furry, and he opened his eyes to discover a baboon
holding tightly to his arm. He screamed, shook it off, and closed the window,
but it took the driver a long time and the loss of his mango to finally get the
baboon off of our van. My life is weird.
One night in Kenya we were driving back home from spending the day
running errands in Eldoret. In typical fashion, the car we were in broke down.
After sitting on the side of the road for a few minutes, a van pulled up to
take us home. All of my teammates climbed out of the car and piled in the van,
but before I could get out Pastor P shut the door. “You stay in this car,” he
told me. I guess he wanted some company for the drive. After a couple minutes,
I realized that it was the first time I had been in a car without my teammates
all year. I had an entire seat to myself, and I even had snacks because we had
just gone to the store. This was shaping up to be the best drive ever, and then
the car broke down again. Pastor P got out and disappeared down the road. I
found myself alone in a broken down car in the middle of a highway in the dark
in Kenya. And my skin practically glows in the dark, so being invisible here is
not an option. Thankfully, no one tried to break in, and the car eventually
started to move as the guys Pastor P had found pushed us home. My nice private
shuttle ride ended up being a little bumpier than I had expected, but at least
I got there in one piece. My life is weird.
One day in Uganda, my team went to the mall in Kampala for a day off
to run some errands and use the Internet. Tiffany and I were walking up the
ramp that led from the first floor of the mall to the second floor on our way
to the Internet cafe. The ramp was only wide enough for two people to walk next
to each other. Since they drive on the left side of the road here, we are
always trying to remember to keep to the left on sidewalks and in stairwells so
that people can pass us on the side they are used to. Tiffany was in front of
me, and a man was walking straight towards her. I kept wondering when he was
going to move to the side, but he stayed in front of her as we got closer.
Finally, she moved to the other side just in time to pass him, and on his way
by he said to her, “Don’t move, I’ll take a hug.” My life is weird…and
sometimes creepy.
