Ohhh... How I wish I had a picture

I got up early yesterday morning and headed out. Robert was at school and so I needed to do a bus appointment and I needed to get to a school for a registration. I was feeling a bit tense.

I was sitting in the car waiting in traffic when I first noticed the rain. It had been raining since I left the house but the rain was changing. A flake of snow had just dropped onto my windshield. Three days before Thanksgiving, it felt like spring yesterday, and now it was snowing. Ugh! was my first most honest thought.

As I drove on I noticed that snow was beginning to collect on the last remaining leaves, on the trees, it was building up on roof tops and it was laying on the ground. I arrived at my destination, pulled up to the apartment building and went to get my charge. Her very tall African father answered the door. He greeted me... in French... I spoke back in Haitian Creole...we got through it and then I remembered the snow. "Garde" I said "Ou bezwen garde sa. Neige... My friend gave me a funny look. "Neige?" He asked questioning. I realized he understood the word neige in the same way that I know the word cyclone. I know the word but I don't really know what a cyclone is so if I ever saw one I would not know what I was looking at or what to do. I realized that I was going to be able to experience someone seeing snow for the first time. It has been awhile since I have been able to show someone snow for the first time. I love doing it. It makes me happy.

So "A", my charges father followed me out, onto the sidewalk. A tall, thin, barefoot, African man. He bent over a bit and looked out around the corner to where it was snowing. I said "touche?" (touch). A huge grin covered his face. When he grins his whole face changes color, his cheeks become full and lines around his mouth form and become distinct. This is a refugee man who has seen terror, who may have nightmares about it regularly but who is still in the habit of smiling, in the habit of joy. You can see it in the lines of his face. Anyway, he smiled, even chuckled a bit and replied "no..."

He kept watching the snow until his daughter, "H", my charge came. She and I left for school. At school I took off my glove and grabbed a bit of snow off of the top of a wooden fence post. "Touche?" I asked. H giggled and waved her arms in response "awww...touche, come on." I pleaded. Again she giggled and said no. So I threw the little bit I had in my hand at the arm of her coat. It hit its mark and she laughed saying "Pas bien, pas bien" (not good, not good) I laughed with her and said "No, no, bien bien." (no, no, good, good) We went into the school laughing.

Half an hour later I had H taken care of and was in my car headed to another home for another family. It was still snowing and now there was even more snow on the ground and in the trees. It was another African home I was going to. One of the children greeted me at the door. I stood around waiting for dresses to go over little girls heads, for socks and shoes to go on and for coats to be zipped. When all of this had been done the little children and I went outside to wait for their mother "V" while she finished getting herself ready to go.

The three children stood on the stoop looking at the snow. Again I picked some up in my ungloved hand. This time I could only reach out with it and use the English word "touch." I knew they would not know the word but they would understand the action so I said "touch" and to my surprise each one of them touched it. They giggled. I threw the small ball at one of them and got them bouncing, laughing. I picked up another and got the coat arm of another little girl and my final shot got their older brother. They all laughed and scattered so I couldn't get them. When their mother joined us we were laughing in the middle of a full fledged snow ball fight. Happily we all climbed in my car and they headed to school for the first time. It was their first day with snow and their first day of school.

Storytelling...the need to tell

Hey guys- parts of this blog will be a bit graphic

so please be aware as you read it!!

Stories help people to become animated, alive and full of different kinds of emotions. Many places in our world are based on oral communication. For years and years every time Robert and I did a registration we asked the family to tell us their story, how they got to America. When we began with the Haitians in 93' we didn't know the importance of this request. As a matter of fact until Robert went to a conference in October by Dan Allendar based on his book "Wounded Heart, dealing with victims of sexual abuse" we still didn't truly realize the importance of telling your story.

A Haitian story is about a man who had a radio show. When the unrest began to happen with Jean Bertrand Aristide, this man let everyone know his opinion over the airwaves. He supported Aristide. The rebels came for him and his family. They had to run.

A Bosnian story... A lady sat in front of us "needing" to explain the Bosnian war. She talked about how under Tito things had been good. In the fifty years of his reign life had been easy. Then he died and leaders began to fight over land, money and power. They used the ancient religions as leverage. She had grown up with a brother named S. He had a best friend who had lived next door to them all of their lives. The two boys had be born within days of each other. In truth this lady had two brothers. F, the next door neighbor and her own brother. F was a Serbian while S's family was Muslim. When the war finally after years came to their village-- one day the fighting began and the last she saw of her brother was him running in the city square away from his best friend. F shot S in the back right between the shoulder blades. S fell to his knees and died. F left his body in the town square and moved on to others. That day this woman lost her father, mother and brother in the same way. She was able to escape the village with her husband and brand new son. She is a haunted woman today.

An Iraqi story... one of the police officers came. He had been an officer in one of the cities that had rebelled against Saddam. The Americans were due to come in and overtake Iraq. They had promised. On the night the invasion was supposed to happen, he was on duty, waiting... the word finally came from the Americans. They had made a deal with Saddam. They were pulling out of Iraq. He ran! He couldn't go back into his village. He had to leave his family. They didn't even know where he was for years. They didn't know if he had survived that night.

An Afghan story...The family woke. The mother helpe her sons get safely to school. This was a very dangerous thing for her to do but she did it daily. The father was just leaving their home for work when a few members of the Taliban broke in. They killed him that day and threw his body in the back yard. During that day the wild dogs found his body. After school the eldest son of the man found his father's body in the back yard. I must tell you that it was at this story, listening to the anger, hatred, and festering pain in the wife/mother that I began to not want to hear stories. She told me that story for two hours, in perfect detail. It still rolls around in my head occasionally. I had a very hard time removing the graphic details that played a movie for me. Sometimes this work can be gut wrenching.

A Congolese story... He was a student. She was pregnant with their first child. They were newly married and beginning a life together. The war broke out. He was from one tribe and she was from the other. She had the baby and within days the war came to their city. They took the baby and ran. At one point they were starving, her belly was very bloated and sore, she was trying to feed the baby. They found fruit that had been eaten and discarded. It was decomposing. They ate it. They found an open sewer with other people drinking from it. They drank too! They prayed "God deliver us!"

This couple was amazing. As they sat on our couch blessing us with their story they got very animated. Emotions crossed they face... anger, hatred, bitterness, terror, disgust, peace and thankfulness. It amazed me that day what the human spirit can take and get past.

An African story... a young woman lost her husband to the rebels in Sierra Leone. She took her baby boy and they escaped to a refugee camp. They had no family so the camp was more dangerous then normal for them. They were starving because she was unable to fight for enough food in the camp. One day a man came to her tent. He had rice. He offered it for sex. She accepted. The next day another man came and then another. It had gotten out of hand. She was now a camp prostitute. She had more children. Now she sits in front of us. We ask her where the father of her children is. She makes up a convoluted story that we know doesn't work. We wonder. She is ashamed. The older kids know where they came from... they are ashamed. But she and her son survived. They are in America in a home, going to school and eating food.

Our story. We have been listening to these kind of stories weekly since 1993. As I said after the Afghan story I began to not want to hear them. They were too hard, too disgusting, to frightening, to painful and too ugly.

Then life got hard for us, for Robert and I. Our world was turned upside down, our finances were in trouble and even our marriage. We just stopped asking about stories and got through our day, our duty.

During this time, we turned our face to God. We talked and even fought with Him. Eventually things got better. Robert went to this conference and brought back with him many things but one of the most important was the power of story.

He asked a Congolese family their story last week. Another Congolese man who had come to visit us at the same time we were doing the registration sat and listened to the story. He explained cultural things to us that we did not understand. At the end of the story time he prepared to take his family home. When he stood with Robert at the door he asked Robert, "Why did you ask them their story but you did not ask me about mine." Robert was amazed. This man was jealous. We set up a time to go to their house for dinner and listen to their story. They need to tell it and we are able to listen. Perhaps we need to hear it.

July has it really been since July???

So for the past month I have been thinking about the moment in time when I would actually get to sit down at this computer and write to you all again. For the past month the first line that I wrote in my mind was always this one...
glub...glub...glub..... aah....!
I have gotten to the top of the water line and can breathe again.
Oh yes and there is Robert beside me.
I haven't seen him in awhile.
Normal life is pretty busy but since July I truly haven't been able to sit long enough to write to you. So instead of telling you how busy we have been how about if we tell you a little about what we have done for the past few months.
We all had a great time doing summer reading and were sad to see the summer go. The kids were great and we have enjoyed hugs this summer. On the first day of school I can't tell you how many of our kids in the schools said "I know you! You read to us!" I find that funny since neither Robert or I read very often but who can complain if a kid associates your face with books. Not us!
One of my favorite stories was the day we took a little Burundi child into the school with his family for a school tour. For weeks I had seen him and played with him at summer reading. Our kids played with him often but I had never heard him speak a word of English. On the day of the school tour he walked in the front door trailed by his parents and this little tiny first grader looked down the long hallway to the shelves that lined each wall. And then his little voice filled with awe... said quietly books............ He knows the word book in English. Yay!
Then there were the billions of pieces of paper that we wrote out, notarized and explained to parents, signed and finally delivered to most of the schools in the valley. Each group of papers came with usually three hours of orientation, an hour for a school tour and a half an hour to deliver back packs and put kids on the bus bright and early in the morning. Typically Robert & I have run the first day of school by ourselves but this year we had Jeremiah and Jay to help us out. The day went well. Later in the day when I was visiting a school to make certain all was well Jeremiah came with me and was able to secure a position in the school as a volunteer to grab some good volunteer hours for his scholarship. That was good!
One of the very different things about this year (This happened some last year but a lot this year) was that as we went into the neighborhood to take our cases to schools other people came to us needing their children registered into school. You see it is our goal that all of our cases are ready and set to go by the first day of school. Buses are ready, schools found, backpacks given, smiles and hugs and the first day of school in America is begun on a positive note.
So the first day of school was over and then we began the "please give our kids a school bus"; and "please I need to talk to a school counselor and I don't want to stand in line for the next hour to do it."
I forgot to say that we had also spent the weeks just before school getting documents translated, zipped up and given to BSU for new college students. We also went on BSU tours and to orientations with new students.
Right now the busy work is slowed down and Jeremiah is running Joy through her reading vocab while he waits to get onto Robert's computer to finish his BSU online math quiz. Roya is on her way over to study math. Our kids babysat Deborah, a little Kenyan girl, while her mother was at BSU attending an art history lecture, Sang came before dinner to do math and finally kids are in bed, and I am writing to you. The pace has slowed a bit.

The Weekend As We Knew It

Hello all...
The weekend was fun and very busy. On Friday we got to got to the African Children's Choir with a couple of CATCH! volunteers and some Kenyan friends. It was fun to sit with Sally, one of our friends from Kenya and get a play by play on language and information being given to us.
On Saturday we went to a Bosnian/American wedding where Robert played the "marryin' man." We enjoyed going to Katherine Albertson's Park for the ceremony and then a big party at the Basque center. It was so much fun.
Then about 11 o'clock pm we went to the Jewish Synagogue for a Bantu Muslim wedding. It is a nice place for a wedding-this being our second there. It was very hot as there were about 300 people there. One of my favorite girls got married to one of Robert's favorite translators so that was fun. Last week when I caught him in the neighborhood I went through my normal "hand on his shoulder- light squeeze- slight threat in my voice." So she has another year of school and then college....is she going to both? If she doesn't you will have to work three times as hard to get your family to eat. It would be best if she went to university. He smiled, having already anticipated my question and gave all the right answers. We will see if they actually come true but at least he KNOWS the right answers.

Fourth of July at Plum House

So we set out to have a lazy 4th. We had told Jill & Jer our plans and invited them if they wanted. We also knew that my parents would probably join the festivities.When we were visiting one of the neighborhoods, J came up and asked if she and her sisters could come stay with us for a couple of days. We said yes and so yesterday we had three extra little girls.That afternoon we went to the parade, my parents, our kids, Robert & I and three little girls. We enjoyed watching little girls who had never gotten to see a parade except for on TV. They had fun running for candy with our kids, waving at the people in the parade, clapping for the veterans and getting soaked at the end of the parade. It was a fun time.Then last night Jill and Jer joined us with one of their neighbors for fireworks. We had planned to get together with our neighbors for a firework show so with Russ, Robert and Jer's fireworks we had quite a show. We pulled lawn chairs out onto the side of the street and watched the guys and the kids run up and down lighting things, deciding on the perfect sequence and just general having a great time in controlled mayhem.At the end of the night when our visitors had gone all except our three little guests we heard a little voice say..."That was the best day ever!" and off to bed we all went.

Lunch at Plum House

So we are eating goulash for lunch. Our lunch time sort of ran into our meeting. As people came we were still eating so we offered them food. So as I sit here writing this we are eating with Jim Wright from TRIO, Boise State, Abubacar, a Somalian man and Sally, a Kenyan woman all of us, sitting around eating goulash and working on getting registered for fall term at Boise State.I could see my fall work sitting in front of me.

The First Talk Time Night

I went into one of the neighborhoods to begin a new "Talk Time." My oldest daughter and I got there a bit early. We decided to sit and wait outside until all of the other "native English" speakers arrived. As we sat there one of the summer reading kids walked up and then another and then another. When they came up to me they asked every time when I was going to start reading and why I wasn't walking to the other side. I kept telling them that I was not here to read this evening (we don't have a reader yet for Tuesday) but instead I was here to visit a home. The kids didn't like that answer. Finally after a few minutes and ten children hovering around us we sent one of the kids off for a reading book. Our oldest daughter and one of the volunteers for Talk Time (tt) sat down with kids all around them and on their laps reading.About half way through the book, the women of (tt) had entered the neighborhood and were ushered upstairs to begin. We regained our readers and off we went. First we spent some time doing small talk to get the ball rolling, then we did a little review as I wanted to know the level of understanding that the non-native speakers have. The Turkish women in this group are great fun and outgoing, therefore they have a real need to communicate and their English shows it. They are really trying hard. After we had finished reading we decided to play a little game. I asked a native speaker what the sound for a chicken is in English. I was answered quickly "cock-a-doodle-doo" I then asked one of the Turkish women. She answered "co-ka-ree-co" Another person brought up an animal and we were off imitating animals. One of the women began to act out the facial expressions and body movements of horses, dogs, cats and pigs. By the time the story changed we were laughing very hard and enjoying ourselves. During the animal reenactments, a coffee table was pulled into the center of the room, tea was served with cakes, chocolate, candied jam and Uzbek bread. We enjoyed tea together and talked more. It was interesting that the previous conversation had made our friends think about their past lives. The Turkish women are a family, mother, three daughters and two granddaughters were with us. They began to talk about growing up on a farm in Uzbekistan, about how hard life was for Turkish refugees, the trek from Georgia (the region of Turkey they are originally from) and the then lastly their years in Russia. We left their apartment late. The night was a great success, everyone laughed and talked. At the end they walked us to our cars. It was a great night! Thanks to all of the volunteers who joined in and made it the night that it was. I attached a document below so that you could read about the experiences of this group of women. http://www.dwd.state.wi.us/dws/programs/refugees/Word_documents/mturksprofile.docAs an aside- most of the links I am able to send to you are found and given to me courtesy of the resident CATCH! historian, Jill Eden. Thanks Jill for all of your work.

Evenings that are just fun!

So we went into the neighborhoods this evening to join our volunteers. At the first neighborhood, while this was the third week for them and they are old hat by now we just thought we would go in to be a support to them. That neighborhood is the hardest one. The kids run around, they don't sit and they don't understand the importance of reading at all. However tonight I watched when our volunteers got out and began to set up their chairs the kids began to gather. I even watched some tearing across the parking lot at break neck speed to get there before the story started. I was amazed to see the kids in this neighborhood sitting on their bottoms, quietly listening to the story, some of them even raised their hands this evening and asked questions. It was fun to see! The numbers in this neighborhood have grown as well. They have gone from about 10 kids to this evening it seemed like there were about 25 sitting there intermittently but most actually stayed and listened.After we finished in that neighborhood we headed over to the second one. That neighborhood is mainly one long side walk with a very busy street right in the middle. When we get there we start on one end and move down until we all cross the street together. As we were rounding up children I sent a couple of messengers to the end of the sidewalk to pick up the others down at that end. A few minutes later I saw our messengers round the bend of the sidewalk with 7 other kids in tow, all of them yelling at the top of their lungs "We love to read! We love to read!" That was music to my ears. After that Robert and I and our volunteers crossed the street with the kids and sat down by the playground to read. We had a great time. There were about 29 kids here. This group is always quieter and their are a much more mixed bag of ethnicities in this neighborhood so it is an interesting puzzle. After we were finished reading, Jay, one of our volunteers went with Robert to visit a new Congolese family. On his way to their house he was invited in by one of our good Sudanese friends for a drink. I was left on the playground with Kerrie, another volunteer. I had promised the kids that I would stay and let them play for five minutes before taking them back. As we stood, waiting for the five minutes to pass, a very kind Uzbek women came and said "Speciba, cai moya doma?" or please come my house for tea. We smiled and I asked Kerrie if she were game and bless her soul she was so off we went. We went in through the sliding glass door of the home, taking our shoes off as we entered and sat to join Feruza in tea. She served us what she called "Uzbek pizza" meat and onions enclosed in a thin phillo dough, tea, cherries, candy and "hleb" or bread. After a bit I was feeling concerned about needing to walk the kids home but knew I didn't dare leave so soon so I began wishing for Jay, who can speak enough Russian to get the point across. As I was wishing for him I heard a voice "the kids said you were here." There Jay stood. I prompted him to tell Feruza that he spoke a little bit of Russian. She was thrilled. He started talking to her and translating for us and soon afterwards I was able to excuse myself and take the kids back. When I got back to Feruza's table they were still talking and having fun. Someone made a comment about the food and I told Kerrie "If she had known we were coming there would have been much more food." Just as I said that Jay began to translate "She says that it is too bad that she didn't know you were coming because she would have made much more." Feruza smiled and use her hands to show a whole mound of food on the whole table. I was so full with the little that we had eaten that I was content that she hadn't known we were coming. She asked them to come the next day for dinner. After we excused ourselves from Feruza's home I parted ways with Jay and Kerrie and went to relocate my husband. He had moved to his third African home by this time and was now firmly planted on the couch of one of my newest favorite little boys. As Robert finished his business with the family I got to make faces and play with the little five year old boy. He is such a great kid. He wants to learn English so badly. He will sit through five books without moving on reading nights. Finally we said our good byes to the family and headed to our car. As we were driving out of the neighborhood I saw a very familiar figure crossing the street. I pretended to speed up the van and act like I was headed toward the person. The young Bosnian father looked at the van first confused, then irritated then he knew and just stood in the middle of the street hands on hips daring me. I have always loved this kid. We pulled up beside him and his wife joined him at the side of our car to talk. She was holding their baby. As Robert was holding a conversation with the parents I was busy smooching the baby on the forehead and teaching her to say "your daddy is crazy" in Bosnian which got me a smack on the head. Just the reaction I was looking for. I then kept saying "Ja volim te" which means "I love you" to her. She is about five months old and adorable. She was kept launching herself and trying to climb into the window of our car. We had a great night. Twas fun! Thanks volunteers for your faithfulness. This is a blessing! It is fun making kids happy!!!

Cultural Confusion

Fourteen years ago, Robert & I started spending hours upon hours with Haitians, enough time that I learned to speak their language. Robert, being raised by a French mother only had to make some changes to his language to communicate.After two years with Haitians, God moved us into the Bosnian community where we spent the next five or so years. It is important to note that we never left the Haitians we just spent time in three different cultures, American, Haitian and Bosnian. In 2001 we again moved our focus to another culture, that of Afghanistan. As the years have gone on we have added three African cultures, and the Uzbek culture to our roster.Over the years since 94' Robert has become increasingly cross cultural but it has been very normal to him because this is the way he grew up, Jews, Iranians, Iraqis, French, Russian and on it goes in his home. If they were not originally from America his mother invited them home for dinner. She invited Americans too but you had to be a certain type of American to come and be willing to stay in the culture created by so many other cultures in the home.As for me, I grew up with people of different cultures around me but not in my home every minute of the day. We had people over on special occasions, Thanksgiving, Christmas etc. So here I sit 14 years later having difficulties that I don't understand.Last week we had two dinners to attend. The first an Uzbek family invited us to their home for dinner. I looked forward to it all week. I thought about how to adjust the culture in my head to fit into theirs. Knowing they were Muslim I chose my clothes to be appropriate for them, no short sleeve shirts, no skirts and I made certain my feet were really clean, no street dust. I then thought about who would be there and topics that would be fun to talk about. I made certain that as a family we did not have a large lunch and only a small snack for the kids in the afternoon as we were going into an eating marathon of very good food. We must eat or dishonor the family.I thought of the words that I knew in Uzbek and could use. Put my "Rakhmat" in place of my most used word for "thank you" (the thank you word I use most often right now that just rolls off of my tongue quickly is the Kizigua Bantu "Asante" followed quickly by the Mai Mai word wattmahatsuntie) I needed to replace them and use "Rakhmat" instead.That evening we had a great time, talking, laughing and enjoying new and old friends. My children being raised in the same type of home as my husband had jumped right in, adjusted their culture like breathing and played with their friends. Robert hung with the men, went outside and walked around. We all went away feeling like it was a successful night.However as I drove away a familiar nagging feeling hit me. I never feel this relaxed in America anymore. By this I mean that when I spend time in a room for that many hours with Americans I leave feeling uptight and out of place. This nagging stayed with me all the next day as I knew I had an all American event to attend that evening.As I thought about it I analyzed my life and realized that I spend very little time in a strictly American society. By that I mean a room where the American culture is the dominant one. At our home the dominant culture is not a pure American one, it has American pieces, Haitian pieces, many Bosnian and Afghan pieces and even Laotian pieces thanks to one of our favorite people. We go to church for one hour a week but even there we sit with and spend much of our time in the building with an English Language Teacher, her husband and a young family from the Congo. So as you can see it is very rare that we spend time in a strictly American enviroment.So on the day of the American party I was nervous and unsure even a little angry. On the night of the event I had figured out what my problem was... when going into an American cultural situation I just went in and didn't prepare myself for the change. So on this night I prepared. I thought of how to act, what to say, what to wear and yes- even which "thank you" to use. It was odd thinking for me but it worked. So often lately when I leave these places I am unhappy worried that I did something wrong but I never understand why. I think I finally figured it out. So many pieces have added to my cultural make up that I have to be on my game and I take my American culture for granted which is just not there the way it used to be.In summary "Thank you" is not my first choice. I usually use asante, wattmahatsuntie, speciba, tashakur, or merci first. I don't use the culture I grew up in near as often as I use the one I have adopted to help me move into the Bantus, the Afghans, the Bosnians or the Africans. I take my shoes off at the front door much more often then I leave them on and I don't assume you speak English. It has been a very fun and interesting change for me. However, it comes with its share of confusion as well.

Just Shopping

I remember the days that we could go to WalMart or Winco and grab a couple of things and leave. Then there was Sunday night. A call came in at 9pm. An emergency. The emergency took us to WalMart to see what one of our kids was up to. In we walked, looking for a certain young man..two aisles in Robert called his name down the aisle. A man looked up and said "Robert?" Not the guy we were looking for but another friend of ours. He took us to the young man we were looking for. We then decided to go do some shopping and I think that after we left the store we had run into about 12 people we knew and had conversations with them. Two invitations to dinner were accepted, a promise to look up one of their children and the promise to visit two ill individauls were added to our roster by the time we left the store. We not only take our work home with us but to the store too.

Collective Shame, Collective Pride and a need to belong

So 12 years ago, August, a family got off of the airplane. They were from Bosnia. The family was made up of father, mother, son and daughter. It was a neat a clean little family by my American standards. They did not smoke. They did not drink. There was one boy and one girl. They were educated and we could talk to them about art, philosophy, politics and world issues. (Or we could have if they spoke English) We enjoyed our time with this family. Surprising to us they were Muslim, and a much different Muslim then we expected. For three months we spent a lot of time with them, trying to communicate, getting them furniture, registering their children into school, helping them with their first adventures of shopping. I still know that the word "paradees" (spelled paradise) is the Bosnian word for tomato. We spent hours transporting them. We spent hours eating with them. We spent hours with them, so much so that we forgot they didn't speak English and they forgot we didn't speak Bosnian. We just learned to communicate.Then in November of that same year we went with our friends to meet their cousins who were getting off of the airplane. Again the family was a father, a mother, a boy and a girl. They smoked, they drank, the father was Muslim, the mother was Serbian Orthodox. This meant in Bosnian culture that the children would be raised Muslim. Again we spent many hours doing all of the same things for this family that we had done for the first. And again we became friends.In December a second cousin came. This time the family was father, mother and son. The father was Muslim, the mother Croatian. And still again we spent many hours. Robert and I were a young family then with only a five month old child. We were very mobile.February came and three more families came, all relatives of the first family, including the father's father and mother. We knew them all and spent time with them all. By this time we were so busy being with them that we spent little time anywhere else. We ate their food, sat with them for hours, watched TV with them and drank coffee. We started becoming community with them and we didn't know it.In the next three years many families came to Boise from this small town. By this time the community was in our blood. We loved them.Then after this long period of time, Bosnians from other areas of Bosnia began to come. We had had a couple families from other areas before but so few that we had not gotten to understand the politics and the pain of other areas. Then others came and we began having to look at the other side. The pain of Serbs fighting Muslims, of Muslims fighting Croats, of Croats fighting Serbs.I remember one day as I am sitting around the coffee table with a group of women, one of them began to talk to me about the day that her brother was murdered. Sead's best friend had spent time daily in their home. He had eaten lunches with the family, gone swimming, listened to music, ate dinner, spent the night, gone on double dates, the boys had been inseparable. They had both been Muslim, but their families were different kinds of Muslim. During the invasion of the town, she had watched this young man chase her brother down and kill him. She had screamed and cried, pleaded but her brother died and she saw it all. She lives with this memory along with others from that day until this.Another woman when I asked her if Bosnians wore wedding rings as part of their culture told me about the day that she lost her wedding ring. Her mother-in-law had called her from the other side of the village to warn her that the village was being invaded and that she needed to run. Her husband was gone fighting the enemy soldiers back. She didn't know where he was. She had been doing dishes when she got the call from her mother-in-law. She had put her wedding ring in the window sill while she did the dishes. The phone rang, she pulled her hands out of the water, answered the phone, ran for her two sons, put them under her arms and ran into the street, escaping the town with hundreds of other women and children. It was the last she saw of her wedding ring, her home and the life she had known.This war was a hideous war. One with absolutely no rules and humanity was lost. Now the people of this war are trying to live here and move past the terror, anger and bitterness. It is a tough thing to do, if not impossible for some.Here are some links to some "youtube" sites that may give you a taste of this whole thing. While they are not by any means fun and yes the words are disturbing it is still important that we see them. It is important that we not think we are above all of this. We are not. We need to learn from history and the sins of the past. Please be brave and look....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P7ESBQhNZpUhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lHKCH7dZDkwhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Id4wtBJHMdUhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8MCSV7lM8kWe have experienced many people from this country. We are fortunate enough to be a part of their community and to love them. We see in some of them the capability to move on, some hide their past and their struggles, others are bitter, others haunted....

The Summer Reading Program

Life was fun last night. We had a meeting for our new volunteers about the summer reading program. We talked about the plan and how we were going to do it and then Robert said "Hey! Ya' wanna' go visit the neighborhood and see where you will be working?"
We all decided to go and so off we went. When we all got there the neighborhood seemed awfully quiet but as soon as we piled out of our cars kids became to come. They ran up and and grabbed us, hugging us and jumping on us. We introduced our new guests.
Robert introduced the idea of these people coming to read to them every day. Eyes got big and the kids got excited. We were there for about five minutes when a line of cars pulled into the parking lot. The first car saw Robert and stopped. It was one of the Bantu elders. He came up to us and introduced himself and then he asked Robert if we could all come down to their meeting and meet with them. We were all ushered to Chief Musa's home. A translator was assigned to the meeting by the elders. The volunteers were then introduced to the Chief and the other elders. We had a good time. I was amazed that we were invited to the home. We were thinking about it later and we have only seen maybe one other American in this home so this was a big compliment.
As we were preparing to leave one last request was given by the elders. They want to be given a schedule of times that the volunteers will be in the neighborhood because they want to be able to bring their children and make certain they are being read to. Robert asked "So how many kids do you think you want to bring?" The elder said "Fifty" So now we are thinking that there will be a possibility of fifty kids when we read. hmmmm.... we'll have to see how this is going to work. Experiments are such an interesting thing. This will be a fun summer!

A crowd in the neighborhood

So this evening, about 10 pm we rolled into one of the neighborhoods. We had spent the evening delivering kids to events, doing paperwork, a visitation and then back to picking up kids. We did all of this while we had a little two year old Liberian girl with us. Her mom was at work and her babysitter was at youth group so we had her with us.Finally at 10pm we had delivered all of the children and were driving into one of the neighborhoods to finish what we hoped to be the last two peices of paperwork for the evening. When we pulled in we saw one of our kids that we know very well...so well that he and one of his friends had been with us for the afternoon and eaten dinner with us. So he sees us and dumps his arms up in the air, elbows bent, hands interlaced at the back of his head, moving them nervously back and forth. The minute I saw him I knew something was wrong and then I heard Robert say "What is that? What are they up to?"Finally I noticed the group of young men that were clumped together talking and waving their arms and hands. At the same time we noticed them, they noticed us and began to disband. Our friend and one of the other boys came to us. Robert asked them what was going on? The older boy said "Oh, we were just declaring war on little A." Robert with a startled sound in his voice asked what that meant. The young man then got hedgy but said that the young man had done something very bad, and let me promise you it was bad. So we tried to figure out exactly what that met. We are watching to see what will go on. This neighborhood has had a lot of trouble lately and the young man mainly responsible for the trouble is being punished, however we are worried. We will watch...If you are a prayer- please pray for this. Pray that these men/boys will learn their lesson and become upstanding, respectful American citizens. Blessings!

Northwest Nazarene University

We had a good time last night with a group of people working towards certification in ELL (English Language Learner) It was fun to be in a setting with people who are excited and interested in learning about new cultures, the issues that face them in their new society and how we as Americans can help them resettle and be successful, helping them to gain an education in their new homeland. We talked about case studies and issues that children and their parents may face in their new life. Thanks so much for letting us come visit with you and share some of what we have learned in the fourteen years we have been working cross - culturally. Thanks Lisa

A chance to volunteer!

This summer, hours of idle time drag out in front of kids. When I was a kid I looked forward to this because the worse trouble I could get into was falling asleep on a beach towel and getting too much sun. That is not the case with many of the kids we know. For them the summer will be a time of boredom and trying to find something to do. Last summer that got them into a lot of trouble.So in answer to this problem we will be starting different programs in the neighborhood.Here is the first!Summer Reading!Grab you lawn chair and a favorite picture book. Set it up in the neighborhood and read for a few minutes. This will be great for these kids to get a story a day read to them and you will soon fall in love with the kids.If you are interested e-mail us at robert@katchlife.net or debbie@katchlife.net and we will give you info on our next training time.Come on-- it will be fun!

last week and all it contained!!!

Monday - was so long ago I don't even remember what we did. I do know that Robert proctored for ISATs but other than that don't know.Tuesday- Robert proctored again and I went to put children on the buses and register them in school. I spent the early afternoon tutoring library skills. We went to some Bosnian friends home of ours for dinner. It was fun. We enjoyed pork chops, chicken and peppers, baked potatoes, corn, tomato and cucumber salad and bread with juice and beer. The discussion hit all topics, food, drugs legal and not, gangs in Boise, God (is He or isn't He) and culture.Wednesday- Robert proctored. The late afternoon was spent going to a track meet and watching some of our kids run track for their schools. It is fun to watch them succeed in a regular school setting. That evening we took kids to youth group and then went into the neighborhoods while we were waiting for youth group to end. After youth group, while dropping off kids in their neighborhoods we saw three police cars and policemen all over the neighborhood. Not a very comfortable scene. We got home and tutored math and English. It is down to the college wire so we are on call all of the time.Thursday- Robert proctored. I did registrations and BAM work and worked with young man on library skills. That afternoon we went into three neighborhoods and ended up talking to many different families about different needs they have. When we got to the neighborhood we had been in the night before we accidentally got called into a large community meeting. One of their people had been arrested the night before and now here we were. We were there to tell one of the men about a meeting for his child at the school and here we end up in this meeting. They want Robert to help them find a lawyer, to find out how much the bond is and to find a bondsman. Some of the men from this community came to our home so we could give them information. After that meeting we had a meeting at nine thirty that night. It was a very busy day. Friday- Robert proctored. I took my kids and a Liberian kid on a field trip to a farm outside of Weiser. We spent the afternoon walking the hills, looking at sheep and digging for fossils. I dropped my cell phone into a mud puddle and busted it. Wasn't happy! That afternoon we dropped our person into the neighborhood and just as she left three jr high boys landed in our van. We went to take care of my phone and as Robert was in the store taking care of the phone the boys were watching a movie in our van. This works great to keep them calm but alas the car died and we couldn't get it started. That was a real pain. Finally a man who was a mechanic saw us having problems and was able to get it started. One of the boys, with all sincerity looked at me and said "See Debbie! God He always has our back! He takes care of us!" I enjoyed that. Finally about 9:30 we rolled back into the neighborhood and dropped off the boys. We were tired by the end of that day.Saturday- we spent the morning at a basketball game and the late evening helping a jr high kid catch up on science. We were up late again.Sunday- we picked up two families for church. After church we dropped off one of the families and headed to the Sudanese church where Robert was teaching. By that time I was sick. I had been feeling sick since Thursday but I was done by then and just stayed in the car and slept. Again when we were headed home our van wouldn't start. After a half an hour Robert was able to get it started. We have to get it checked. By the time we got home I went to bed and Robert tutored. Today Robert is sick. Sick stinks.

Just Keep Walking

We have been taking a few days out to attend a prevention conference. One of our donors told us that they thought it would be a good idea. We followed their advice and off we went for three days of a conference and two days of R&R.The first day of the conference was good. We heard from a gentleman named Raleigh Philps about the inner workings of a teen brain. We also heard Arnold Shapiro speak. He is the gentleman who produced the Emmy award winning documentary "Scared Straight." In the afternoon we heard from a gangs person and a professor from CSI on culture. We took in a lot of information that day and got the beginnings of some great ideas.The next day we headed down the elevator to join the rest of the conference. On the way down Robert prayed for the day and for us that God would guide our path and show us where he wanted us. He prayed specifically that God would give us a relaxing and fruitful time. The night before we had gotten a message from the hotel about our room and so on the way into the conference we checked in at the desk. They let us know that the Sun Valley Inn (the part of Sun Valley) we were staying in would be closing on Saturday and they would need to find us another room for the remainder of the two nights that we were there. Now bear in mind we had a beautiful room in the Inn with a bed, TV and bath. It is a gorgeous place. The hotel person first looked for a room in the lodge and found that everyone room was booked for the time we would be there. At this point I was getting a bit nervous but kept remembering Robert's prayer and knew that God would take care of us. So after a few moments and a phone call to someone in charge the kind Romanian woman who was helping us gave us an apartment behind the lodge. The apartment has a beautiful kitchen, a living room with a gas fireplace, a terrace and a loft bedroom. My first thought as I stood there being given this gift was "Man!!! He is at it already." God is good!After our visit to the front desk we went into the conference and heard from a young lady working with teens in Washington DC named Shanterra McBride. She again had many great points and most of all she was uplifting. Listening to her gave us new ideas about what we could do next. In the afternoon we went to an "after school program" presentation. Bottom line we were given a lot of ideas about where to go next.The last day rolled around and we had a great time. The wrap up was a morning with a man named Michael Pritchard. Mr. Pritchard is a comedian who has worked as a California probation officer as well as working with at youth kids, educating them as well as the adults who work with them. He has also taken many of them into his home and his family. http://www.michaelpritchard.com/As I sat and listened to him, I knew in the first few minutes that we would enjoy this man. One of the first few things he said was about a Haitian young man who was he was living with his family. A few moments later he talked about the young African who had lived with them years before and then there was the Laotian. He spoke with dignity and gave dignity to those people he spoke about. Both Robert and I were really energized and excited after that last talk. The conference had built to a climax and we went away happy. I have to tell you though that although we thought that was the end of our conference experience it was not!Please remember back to Robert's prayer of the previous morning and his continued prayer that God would author our path.... so.... after the conference and lunch, we went to check on our room. It wasn't ready yet. We went for a drive up to Galena Summit. We got back and went into the lobby of the lodge to pick up our keys. While I was waiting for Robert to get the keys I glanced out into the seating area and further out to the ice rink. As I was looking around I noticed a man sitting in front of the fire on a soft couch reading his paper. I wanted to talk to him but was way too shy. I acknowledged God and stepped into the parlor. Now some of you who don't know me may think I walked up and introduced myself. HAH! No, I just waited for my husband to follow me in.Robert soon followed me in and of course my observant husband noticed the man reading his newspaper. He walked up to him. Immediately the man put his paper down and Robert introduced himself, telling him he wanted to thank him for his time at the conference. I walked up just about the time that Micheal Pritchard asked us what we did and why we were hear. Robert's answer was we work with refugees, specifically children in Boise. Michael asked us to sit down and although we tried to excuse ourselves after half an hour of conversation, he gave us two hours of his time. It was the highlight for us of the conference. He gave us great tips, tons of great ideas and told us to call him.So now we head back to Boise even more excited and ready to do the work that God has so graciously given us.

Schools, schools and more schools

Yesterday Robert was at one high school in the area all day long working with kids there. When he was getting ready to go there the phone rang and we were called to deal with a situation for another teenager not choosing the best decisions. Even though the kids in the conflict were guys I went. Usually Robert goes but he was out and I was there. The first kids took a couple of hours then as I was leaving the principals office (I have logged 100's more hours in the Principal's office as an adult then I ever did as a kid --am I doing something wrong?) Anyway I had reached for the door handle and innocently pulled it open to leeaavveee...... and there stood another one of our cases in trouble. I ushered him in and turned around. Two more hours passed and I finally left that school and headed to check on another neighbor school. I walked into the ELL room and the teacher said "Yay! I was going to call you and here you are." We spent 1/2 hour talking about why she had needed me and then she took me to visit one of my cases. I left there just as school was finishing and headed to one of the apartment complexes to check on one of the kids from earlier that day. As I pulled into the parking lot my phone rang and Robert's voice said "Where are you?" I told him and he said "I am almost there too." I laughed--guess great minds think alike. We met there and did our rounds. One of the kids who needs an extra dose of attention had had a difficult day at school. I had given him a ride home when I knew I was going to his apartments. He talked with Robert and I and conned us into taking him to McDonald's. We went to McDonald's and hung out for awhile talking and then took him back home. By this time it was dinner. We figured out a fast dinner last night and went off to youth group with the girls. While they were at youth group we went to the hospital to visit someone there and make certain all was OK and that she didn't need anything. We stayed with her for awhile and then picked up the girls and went home. By this time it was 10:00. Today Robert checked his e-mail. He received an e-mail update from a teacher about the young man we took to McDonald's yesterday. The e-mail let us know that this young man had been having more and more attitude problems that began on Monday. He said though that today the young man seemed to be doing better and was happier. It interests me what a chicken sandwich, pop, fries and conversation can do for a kid.

Visiting

We went to do school registrations on Tuesday in the late afternoon. The first home we went to was that of a little person who wants to go to kindergarten next year. We sat with his parents and talked about school, what to expect and filled out all of the paperwork. We enjoyed the family that was made of a mixture of Somalian Bantu and Ethiopian. That was a mixture we had not seen before so it was interesting to talk with them about where they met and about camp life.
After we were finished there we went across the courtyard and up the stairs to another apartment. We were struggling to communicate our need for a translator when someone knocked on the door and there on the threshold stood one of my favorite Turkish girls (who also speaks Russian) I hugged her and we talked for awhile and then she graciously agreed to translate paperwork for us. We were each given apple juice to drink in between talking. When our glasses got to 1/3 of the way full another full glass was poured. When I was done drinking I made certain to sip and not let my drink get too low or I would have been drinking way too much. We went through all of the papers for their two children, explained the schools to them and answered questions. As we were filling out paperwork the father sat with us while the mother moved from between us and the kitchen. Close to the end of the paperwork, Robert let them know that we were almost done. Whew!!! The father smiled and excused himself then spoke to his wife. She told him something and he began to move around furniture. As the last signatures were going down on paper a coffee table had been pushed in front of us. A table cloth was quickly produced and spread across the table, three kinds of pop, and juice was served. A big dish full of Russian candy, Uzbek pistachios, raisins and nuts was served next and the last thing was two large round 1" thick bread was served and we began to munch.
A few minutes later a young lady came up the stairs carrying a large soup pan. She smiled at us and curtsied slightly moving into the kitchen to join the mother of the house we were visiting. Lastly a young man of 22 came in and sat down.
At this point the apartment was full and it was getting to be dinner time. We saw our translator glance at her watch with a touch of concern. After we had finished the paperwork we had tried to dismiss her and let her go home but the father of the house pleaded with her to stay. She had stayed until we saw this newest young man enter. We started talking with him, found that his English was good enough to communicate and we helped our translator get home to her mother and their own dinner.
We spent time that evening, relaxing. The women trying to communicate and practice their English with me and the men sat around the dining room table playing chess. Two hours later, seven thirty by this time, Plav was served with salad and more pop. We continued to talk and eat.
At one point in the evening the man of the home asked his nephew (the 22yr old man) to translate for him. I found this particularly funny because when we had dismissed the first translator and said we could use this young man his family had giggled. But now they had learned a very important lesson in communication and he was asked to translate. The father talked about life in Uzbekistan and how when they lived there before the trouble every night they had eaten dinner with their family and friends. He talked about the laughter and the fun and how much he missed it. Then he said "This is good. Tonight felt like home."
That was a large compliment for us. It was a fun night.
They showed us a lapidary backgammon set that was very beautiful. We wanted to share it with you. Hope you enjoy!

It Is What It Is

I am wondering when I will stop chuckling...We spent Saturday with six teen age young men. Three of them, although they have had real problems in the past and are still trying to work past them, the problems come much slower then in the past.One of them did not begin as our case and is as far as our interactions to him he seems to be a pretty good guy. The last two, well suffice it to say, we were having a long difficult conversation with them that day about threatening us and who we would call if they did it again. On Saturday we went with this group of young men to pick up computers at "Computers for Kids." On the way home with one of the young men (one who among them is doing well but has been our very most difficult case in the past!) he brought up the behavior of the others and how he felt like they should do it differently, make better decisions. Robert started talking about his observations and what he would like to see change. How he would like to see them change. Robert and this young man were having a very good and constructive conversation. After a few minutes when our young man realized that until the other boys understood what he had learned and was trying to practice there was really nothing else any of us could do...he smiled...looked at Robert and said "Awww Robert. It is what it is!"I just started to laugh for you see this is my latest phrase. I have been trying to be more accepting of situations. Using less energy trying to change thoughts ideas and attitudes of others that I have no control over, instead working inside of the parameters that I have. Robert had obviously been talking to our young man about this and helping him work on his own problems and behaviors not focus on others. He was sitting here in the back of the van putting it into practice. We went to McDonald's that day as a reward. I still am chuckling!

Noses in the Corner

Last week was a pretty normal week. We went to schools, talked to kids, and disciplined some of them for poor behavior. On Thursday night we were putting the finishing touches on a grant when the phone rang at 10:00 pm.It was a Jr. high girl who was concerned because her mother and her high school brother were arguing. The mother got on the phone, yelling, told me that her son didn't listen and that she was tired. She said she was calling the police. I asked her what her son did. He was hitting his sisters. We know this family well and what we know is that the little sisters probably hit him first. They hit us regularly. We are also having to help kids in the neighborhood or in their own homes because they hit so often. So we knew there was more to this story. I asked the mother if we could come up. She asked us if we would hurry.When we got there we sat and listened. When we got into the house it was 10:00pm. The little girls, one who is too young for school and the second in her first few years of school were still up in the back room. They were jumping on one of the beds in the bedroom, yelling laughing and making noise. We were greeted at the front door by the Jr. higher who had called us. The high school son was sitting on the floor, school books spread out in front of him, trying to study. Mom was laying on the couch, her boyfriend sitting on a chair beside her. They were watching a comedy in a different language. When we got there, Mom sat up and began telling us how mad she was at her son and why. Her son jumped into the mix and the two began yelling at each other. Robert calmed the son down and I talked to the mother. One of my main comments to her was "If you do not want him to yell at you then you need to try to keep your own voice calm." She smiled sheepishly (I have told her this many times before) and agreed with me. The five of us began to talk. Within minutes the little girls came out to give their side of the story. I asked them where they were when their brother got mad. Soon they were, without knowing it telling on themselves and both Robert & I figured out that they had begun the whole conflict but because they were little and mom didn't know how to discipline them she just wanted her older children to ignore their behavior. Robert talked to the high school young man about how to handle is anger with his sisters and what to do next time he gets angry and feels ganged up on by four women.I talked to Mom about how we discipline our children. We taught her the trick of putting children's noses in the corner to help them decide to listen. It was very interesting to us that a very normal childhood discipline, one that most if not all of us have experienced, was such a new and enlightening thing to mom and her boyfriend.Finally when we were heading home at 11:00pm. Robert told mom that the girls really ought to be in bed much earlier, many children that age are in bed by 8:00pm. This is another idea we have told mom many times but this is a normal thing. Rarely, however, are kids in any other culture put to bed early. Mom told her daughters to go to bed. The oldest one went off to bed but the youngest one turned and told her mother "No!" very defiantly. Mom started to yell, looked at us, seemed to remember, smiled and said "Go to the corner!" I showed her how to set her cell phone timer and then we waited until five minutes was up. Half way through the little girl was crying and asking to be let out. We helped mom stand firm and it was interesting the difference in the child from before the corner to after the corner.As we left the home that night I wondered to myself if that little girl would ever want to see me again or not. Sunday we went back to the home. I was greeted with a big hug from the littlest girl. I looked over at the corner and there stood the other girl in the corner. The littlest girl said "I learned, now she is. I don't like that!" Mom was quite happily implementing a new trick. We will see how it works!

The Middle of February Already!

Surprisingly it is the middle of February already. The weeks since last I wrote have been much the same. We have done school registrations, dealt with school issues and gone visiting.The other day Robert got stuck in between both of the worlds that we lived in and I thought I would share the experience with you.Robert had for two weeks been working with the Bantu community to organize a meeting with them and the school district to educate the community on gang behavior and issues, many of which their kids are exhibiting. Robert had talked and worked with them. He had expectations. The expectations were that there would be both men and women there. The women being there was important because there are many single parent mothers that we deal with in this community. Alas however, on the night of the meeting I saw my husband standing in the parking lot at 5:30pm waiting. The meeting was to begin at 6:00 so Robert had gotten there a little after 5:00 to begin to get them ready. Now I watched him standing in the park lot, periodically moving from one apartment to another, hurrying people, calling them on his cell, hurrying them. Finally at 6:10 a small group of them began loading into cars. This was a much smaller group than Robert had wanted and unfortunately not a woman in the group. Many of the most difficult cases that we work with are kids from single parent mom homes so we were hoping they would come but only the men were coming.By the time a frustrated Robert and his entourage finally reached the school for the meeting some of the American officials had gone. They had followed the standard 15 minute meeting rule, if all of the parties of the meeting do not come at the appropriate time then the other parties are able to leave after 15 minutes. Alas this rule does not really work well with people of other cultures. Try as we might to get them there on time we can only do what we can do. So now Robert is really frustrated. A meeting he has spent the last two weeks planning and advertising did not happen at all.This is a common problem we have, we live often between two cultures and sometimes even more. While living between these cultures we often feel squeezed in the middle.

An Apartment Here in Town

As a kid I heard the Garrison Keeler "Prairie Home Companion" reading about walking down a side walk in a neighborhood. He talks about looking at the picture window of homes on the street and wondering what was happening in the home. He then tells quaint little stories about what we believe are typical American scenes. I always loved that story and have romanticized it many times in my mind. There is a problem however.Once I grew up when I looked at those picture windows, I knew in some of them there was not any romance, only suffering. But just in the same way that romance and suffering are a part of the daily fabric behind the windows of our homes so is the idea that what is "American" has many different scenarios.When I walked into the living room of an apartment here in town last week, I thought about this story and chuckled. I had come from my separate part of the neighborhood to meet Robert so we could go home and in I come to a most interesting scene. The living room was a long thin rectangle. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with embroidered curtains kept in place by colored push pins intermittently placed. On the floor of the room first was a rattan shade used a throw rug. Next to it on the floor was a large piece of linoleum that looked like a fake wood floor and then another rattan shade. I knew that the linoleum was used as the dining room table for the family and also for the anyone who happened to come during dinner time. I have often seen twenty people eating on that mat.I dropped my shoes at the door and walked in. Lining three of the living room walls were white plastic lawn chairs. On the fourth wall is a gap between the chairs and then in the middle of the wall stood sat a few chairs. On the chair in the middle of this last set sat a man I knew to be the chief. In front of him stood the object of my search, Robert. Beside the chief sat a couple of other men, part of the elders council. Robert stood in front of them feet planted, legs spread a bit but to my relief he was not sitting. I knew that was a sign he didn't intend to stay long, he planned to get his business done and go. Robert's hands were dug into the pockets of his blue jeans, he was bent at the waist leaning into the chief a bit and the four of them were talking in quiet tones, not whispering just quiet. A solution was reached, a time set for a future meeting and the shaking of hands. Robert turned, smiled at me, waved to the other men in the room seated on the chairs lining it and we left.I knew that when we left the next man would come and stand or sit beside the chief and the elders and that they would continue to solve the issues of their community.In Boise, the chief, the man who people in Boston, in New York, and in Africa contact or come to see to ask questions of, to get guidance from works as a janitor. He mops floors, cleans toilets and works hard.Perhaps the next janitor you see will just be royalty. The old saying "Can't judge a book by its cover" is so true in this situation.

The Adventures for the week begin

Our week began with a meeting at a school. Kids are wearing colors, words or signs that they are not supposed to be wearing. We had a meeting that was supposed to last for an hour that ended up lasting much longer. After that the day rolled into itself. I finally got the bookwork done that I have been focusing on and sent away. This was a huge thing off of my shoulders. Robert spent the day with a different young Bantu man. This is a 17 yr old who is working to understand his world and where to fit here in the United States. He and Robert went to school, came here, went to his relatives and talked for a long time. It was a stressful day yesterday. We are still working to understand it in our heads. Will let you know what we come up with.

The Most Fun We Have Had In Awhile

Friday was a day of answering phone calls, feilding e-mails, doing book work, overseeing Abdi and transporting a family to a drs. appt. That last one sounds simple. The only problem was we had to drive to four different places to get the family all together for the drs appt.Friday evening Robert was called to meet with the Bantu elder council to talk to them about an issue that is on the rise with the young teen boys. He was there most of the evening.On Saturday morning we were lazy. At noon Robert & I went on errands and lunch. When I was standing in the Cricket store getting statements my phone rang. Robert was out on the side walk pacing back and forth talking on the phone. My phone call was one of our families. They were fighting. The mother, her teenage son and her Jr. High daughter were trying to understand a document and they all had different ideas. That got them into a heated arguement. So we went to read it and settle it on our way home. When we were at the apartments I went to Joetta's house to see if she wanted to spend the evening with us and Robert went to Makhmudi's house. At Makhmudi's the Bantu elder council was eating lunch. When I showed to meet Robert to go home I found my husband sitting on the floor with a big plate of rice and chicken eating with his hands, 20 Bantu men around him. I waited in the entry way to the apartment until he finished, said his goodbyes and we went home.That evening we went back to the apartments, picked up Joetta and made our way to Tepanyaki for dinner. Sang was treating us to dinner for Joy's birthday. Not only was he treating us but he made certain that we all had soda's and he cooked for us. Gave us an excellent show! We had such a good time. Our children, one of which was not feeling well when they got there all laughed so much their stomachs hurt. One of the kids favorite things was when he threw an uncooked egg up in the air brought it down on the side of his spatual and slit it so he could cook it in the rice. Of course the kids very favorite thing of the kids was the big fire and the onion volcano. We also enjoyed watching him starle Joetta and listening to her scream.
The food was excellent. If any of you want very good food that is healthy for you go check out Sang at Tepanyaki. I was amazed that vegatables could taste that good. Ask for him specifically to cook for you and tell him you know us. He is one of the best things God ever made.On Friday Sebit had come by to see if Robert would teach for him at the Sudanese church. So this morning we went to Pursuit, dropped Pacifique and Zabibu off afterwards and headed off for the Sudanses church. We worshipped partly in Arabic singing to Alah and partly in English singing to God. It was so much fun! God has been good to us this week. We will now see what adventures next week holds. Hope you enjoyed the first full week of blogging!

Family Dinner with our Uzbek friends

We went to an Uzbek family home this evening. This is a very nice family with three teen age daughters and a young son. When we hit the front door, I reminded my kids to take off their shoes. Our oldest asked me if I didn't think they knew this by now. It was a good question. We then went in and were ushered to the dining table where we all sat together. On the table waiting for us was coke, chocolates, candied orange slices and a plate of fruit. We ate a couple of these and then were served shredded carrots with oil and a spicy pepper. After a few minutes we were served salad with thinly cut cucumbers, tomatoes, onions and oil. After the salad we were given little, triangular stuffed pitas with onions and beef inside. At this point I am beginning to get really full but I knew... What I knew is that there was more coming and I needed to eat it. One of the kids looked over the counter into the kitchen and saw "Plov." Plov is a rice dish with almond slivers and carrots and sometimes it has plumped up raisins. Picture a large dinner plate. This is the size of plate we were each served completley full and stacked 4 inches high with meat on the top. I got through about 1/4 of it and then, because I knew that wasn't enough, sat and talked and ate a spoonful, talked more and ate. That way I got a little more eaten but still had to make certain our host knew that I loved their food, but was unable to eat it all. I explained that most Americans only eat a portion of a plate full of rice. Robert who had finished his rice said "My wife has an American stomach and I have an Armenian stomach." I didn't point out that Monique had the same stomach make up as he did exept that she was a girl and she had eaten as much as me. It is true that he can just do what he needs to in a culture and does not find it difficult. He just does it. As soon as we sat down at the table last night, the father asked one of his girls to get something. Out came three books, three different flavors of Uzbek/English dictionaries. We all sat around and began the work of communicating. For Robert & I we look at it as a logic problem. What is he saying? What does he want to say? What is the topic? At one point we all had a good giggle. When we were served dinner Monique sat quietly waiting. I asked her why she wasn't eating. She said she had been taught to wait until the men eat. Robert & I explained that we had been seated together and served together so they expected us to eat together. Had they seated Robert and the father first it would have been different. We had said that all in reugular English so then we had to backtrack and explain the conversation to the parents of the home. When they understood it they laughed heartily and explained that they did not do things that way. It was not their culture. We had a good time last night talking about the English language, the Uzbek language, education and culture.After dinner we came home and college students came here. We edited papers and when we hit our bed last night we calcualted that we had worked an 18 hrs. It was a long day but a good one!

Making up for yesterday!

Well I made up for yesterday, today! But I am glad of it. The kids and I spent the morning working on school stuff. Kham showed up to show me a peice of art work he had been trying to explain last night. He hung out, studied and ate a bit. Robert was gone to doctors appointments for a family this morning. I am happy today! I was finally able to get a young Bantu girl back into school. That makes me happy. She has been out for a couple of months, not understanding the requirement to go to school and not really wanting to unless it went her way. Fortunately a few things happened and she was able to see the importance of school and she was able to listen. She starts school tomorrow. I had to pick her and her mother up in South Meridian and bring them into north Boise and then go back again after the meeting. When we were at the school I parked next to Jer's car at the school. When we were leaving, I left a simple note on his car "Rug Rat!" The African women with me asked "Are you the police too? Are you leaving tickets?" "No." I answered "I called him a name." I explained further and they enjoyed that. When I dropped them off and got back to my office/home there was Jer talking with Robert in the driveway. I was happy to know that he had gotten my note. His only greeting to me was "Rug Rat" I stuck my tongue out at him and let he and Robert finish their thing. I had barely dumped my bag on my desk when a busy Robert reminded me that he needed me to pick up one of the children of the newest Uzbek family. I grabbed my bag, went and got the older sister and then went to the school to get him. I am finally at my desk for a few minutes again today after feilding calls from two families and three schools about situations, some good, some difficult and some just plain tough. For example, I just this miunte answered the phone and was greeted by one of my favorite young African girls. She greeted me with these words "Debbie! I have a problem that is bigger than my head!!" I chuckled, knowing exactly what her problem was. Her school's nurse had e-mailed that she needed glasses and I knew immediately this was not going to be easy. I am thinking now that maybe I can con Joy and Jill into going with her to buy glasses that she thinks are cool. We will see. Anyway, this evening is youth group. So the kids and I will be out and about picking up and dropping off while Robert will be on rounds to the apartment complexes, carrying notes to them and checking to see that all is well.

An Ordinary Day!

January 20, 2007 Yesterday was just another ordinary day in our lives. It was different, however, because we saw it through the eyes of Robert’s sister, Monique. She is down here visiting this week and therefore gives a different perspective to the lives we lead daily. By ten o’clock in the morning there were people crowded around our desks and moving in and out of the kitchen/dining room. Nurali, a Mesketian Turkish man from Uzbek and most recently Russia arrived. Tea in my new Polish pottery teapot was presented with pistachios. He, Yama, and I drank tea and I listened to the two of them compare notes. They talked about the commonalties and differences of food, religion and music in their cultures. We looked up Turkish music and dancing on the internet. All the while we were talking Yama is eating burritos from the freezer for breakfast and pistachios are being popped into our mouths. Kham, a Laotian man who has been a friend of ours for years, came to check out things on the computer and play with our kids. While we sat in the office he was in the dining room with Monique and the kids talking with Monique and wrestling with the kids. The laughter from that room was loud. They were having fun. Eventually, Nurali and Robert left and spent the morning hours looking for a job for Nurali. Nurali was able to get his CDL/A driver’s license and is now able to drive a truck in America. He has been a truck driver all of his life. He drove truck both in Uzbekistan and Russia. Joy and Monique made lunch for all of the people in the house while Kham and Yama worked on the computers and I did school work with our kids as well as bookwork in between answering questions. Eventually we all moved to the dining room table and ate sloppy joes. Yama loves sloppy joes, we just keep yogurt in the fridge for him so he can add it to our food. (He loves it on Mac n cheese. Yuck! It looks disgusting!) By 2 o’clock, Kham had gone and Yama was preparing to leave to go to work. I had gone back to my kids school and bookwork and setting school registration appointments with Sue and Diane. Robert had come back to the office, eaten sloppy joes and gone again to move Prince from one high school to another. Prince is a Liberian young man who we first registered in school four years ago. His mom needs to work, if she misses work she misses money and her family can’t afford that so Robert and I are with this family often. In the late afternoon, Robert took some of the kids and Monique and they went on errands. I focused on my bookwork, prepared dinner and put it into the oven. Sebit came. Sebit is a man we have known for 11 years. He has a great story about life in Sudan. I will ask him someday if I can give it to you. He came to check in and see how we were. I talked with him for awhile. Robert and the kids showed up again. One of our kids greeted him with “Hi Sebit Bebit! and jumped on his lap. Robert landed for a few minutes but left after about half an hour and went to what I call court. His presence had been requested by Chief Musa, the Bantu chief. Robert went there. Sebit went to a prayer meeting and Monique, the kids and I ate dinner. Poor Robert, all of his food was reheated yesterday. I just realized it. That is truly an ordinary day in our lives. The only difference from yesterday and most days is that I got to stay home. Usually Robert & I tag team. He’s gone then comes and I leave and then back again.