Lydia Howe's Blog, page 48
February 2, 2015
An African Wedding - Ghanian Trip Part 2
While we were in Ghana we had the amazing experience of going to a Ghanian wedding. It was only the second Christian wedding that they've had in that part of the country, so they were pretty much on uncharted ground while trying to figure out what Christian elements they wanted to incorporate into the day.
One of the really cool things about our missionary friends is that they have a high respect for the Ghanian culture and have worked very hard at not Westernizing them in any way. Therefore, even though the people there had asked what an American wedding was like, our friends basically said, "No, no, even though you want to have a Christian wedding, you don't want to make it American. Keep it totally Ghanian." And so they did.
There are about 30 girls walking around the drummers at this time. We drove four hours over bumpy, red, dusty roads to get to the village where our friends (Wes and Charity) used to live (they moved to the city of Tamale a year and a half ago), then a bunch of us piled into the back of the truck for another fifteen minute drive to the village where the wedding was going to take place.
When we arrived, we walked over to a large field where they had set up some benches with a dried-grass canopy overtop. There was one set of benches and canopies, then a large open space, and then another set of benches and canopies. One side was for the grooms family, the other for the brides.
While waiting for the ceremony to commence, there were some guys drumming and a circle of girls walking/dancing around them singing. It was burning hot and I watched in amazement as they continued walking/dancing for a long time. It was pretty crazy.
The best man, groom, the groom's father, and the paid drummers who drum on talking drums. After a while we headed over to the groom's compound with Wes and sat outside on their 'couch' which is a bunch of logs about eight inches thick sitting on a platform, all the sides open and a dried-grass roof. It's probably about fifteen feet long and eight feet wide.
The Ghanian's are a very, very respectful and honoring people. When greeting someone, it's customary to bend over or squat down to show respect. They also have quite the long greetings with questions like "How are you doing? How is your husband? How are your animals? How was your sleep?" even to complete strangers. The correct response is to say Naaaaaa after each question, which pretty much means "I received your greeting."
Another thing they do is, if you want to show extra respect to someone, you don't talk directly to them. Wes wanted to tell the father of the groom something about the wedding, so he quietly said it to the man next to him, and that man went over and quietly said it to another man, who then went over and told it to the father. Wes was only about five feet away from the groom's father in the first place.
After waiting for a while, the brides family was ready and so we girls got ready to take pictures of the procession. (The people were excited at the thought of having pictures of the happy event, so we girls joked with each other that we were international wedding photographers.)
A lot of the bride's friends walked/danced and sang in front of the truck carrying the bride and her family. Some of the girls were even carrying wedding gifts on their heads. It was a beautiful sight. It's the dry season there right now, so almost everything was brown and red. The extremely colorful clothing was such a wonderful splash of brightness.
Since Wes had his truck in the village, he took the bride and her family from the compound they were staying in to where the wedding was taking place. As you can see, they were piled in.
The wedding was several hours long, and it was hot, probably over a hundred degrees. We were sitting on backless benches (which we were very thankful for!) and half of the time we weren't able to see what was going on because so many people were standing in front of us. We couldn't understand what they were saying because out in the village they don't speak much English. (English is the official Ghanian language, but it was quite different from the English we speak.) It was hard to keep track of what we were supposed to be doing (Sit. Stand up. Oh, wait, they're praying. Say Amen. Clap. Etc...), Wes did a great job of coming over and explaining stuff to us when he could, but he was busy with other duties. It was an amazing experience and something totally unlike what I was used to.
After a while, one of our Ghanian friends who live with Wes and Charity came over and translated for us. That made it extra, extra neat! Believe me, it was a ceremony unlike any I've ever been to before.
After the wedding was over, they all brought gifts over and had a contest to see if the men or women would give more gifts. The women won; Wes said they always do. It was a big production though, with everyone dancing over with their gifts (the guys were drumming during this time). It was really neat to watch. The people there are very generous.
Then they all danced around the drummer, this time probably a couple hundred people joining in the circle. After that everyone was divided into groups and taken to the different houses to eat lunch.
There's so much more to tell, but I'm running out of space and time, so I'll leave it at that for now. I hope you enjoyed learning a little bit more about the African people of Ghana.
One of the really cool things about our missionary friends is that they have a high respect for the Ghanian culture and have worked very hard at not Westernizing them in any way. Therefore, even though the people there had asked what an American wedding was like, our friends basically said, "No, no, even though you want to have a Christian wedding, you don't want to make it American. Keep it totally Ghanian." And so they did.
There are about 30 girls walking around the drummers at this time. We drove four hours over bumpy, red, dusty roads to get to the village where our friends (Wes and Charity) used to live (they moved to the city of Tamale a year and a half ago), then a bunch of us piled into the back of the truck for another fifteen minute drive to the village where the wedding was going to take place.When we arrived, we walked over to a large field where they had set up some benches with a dried-grass canopy overtop. There was one set of benches and canopies, then a large open space, and then another set of benches and canopies. One side was for the grooms family, the other for the brides.
While waiting for the ceremony to commence, there were some guys drumming and a circle of girls walking/dancing around them singing. It was burning hot and I watched in amazement as they continued walking/dancing for a long time. It was pretty crazy.
The best man, groom, the groom's father, and the paid drummers who drum on talking drums. After a while we headed over to the groom's compound with Wes and sat outside on their 'couch' which is a bunch of logs about eight inches thick sitting on a platform, all the sides open and a dried-grass roof. It's probably about fifteen feet long and eight feet wide.The Ghanian's are a very, very respectful and honoring people. When greeting someone, it's customary to bend over or squat down to show respect. They also have quite the long greetings with questions like "How are you doing? How is your husband? How are your animals? How was your sleep?" even to complete strangers. The correct response is to say Naaaaaa after each question, which pretty much means "I received your greeting."
Another thing they do is, if you want to show extra respect to someone, you don't talk directly to them. Wes wanted to tell the father of the groom something about the wedding, so he quietly said it to the man next to him, and that man went over and quietly said it to another man, who then went over and told it to the father. Wes was only about five feet away from the groom's father in the first place.
After waiting for a while, the brides family was ready and so we girls got ready to take pictures of the procession. (The people were excited at the thought of having pictures of the happy event, so we girls joked with each other that we were international wedding photographers.)
A lot of the bride's friends walked/danced and sang in front of the truck carrying the bride and her family. Some of the girls were even carrying wedding gifts on their heads. It was a beautiful sight. It's the dry season there right now, so almost everything was brown and red. The extremely colorful clothing was such a wonderful splash of brightness.
Since Wes had his truck in the village, he took the bride and her family from the compound they were staying in to where the wedding was taking place. As you can see, they were piled in.
The wedding was several hours long, and it was hot, probably over a hundred degrees. We were sitting on backless benches (which we were very thankful for!) and half of the time we weren't able to see what was going on because so many people were standing in front of us. We couldn't understand what they were saying because out in the village they don't speak much English. (English is the official Ghanian language, but it was quite different from the English we speak.) It was hard to keep track of what we were supposed to be doing (Sit. Stand up. Oh, wait, they're praying. Say Amen. Clap. Etc...), Wes did a great job of coming over and explaining stuff to us when he could, but he was busy with other duties. It was an amazing experience and something totally unlike what I was used to.
After a while, one of our Ghanian friends who live with Wes and Charity came over and translated for us. That made it extra, extra neat! Believe me, it was a ceremony unlike any I've ever been to before.
After the wedding was over, they all brought gifts over and had a contest to see if the men or women would give more gifts. The women won; Wes said they always do. It was a big production though, with everyone dancing over with their gifts (the guys were drumming during this time). It was really neat to watch. The people there are very generous.
Then they all danced around the drummer, this time probably a couple hundred people joining in the circle. After that everyone was divided into groups and taken to the different houses to eat lunch.
There's so much more to tell, but I'm running out of space and time, so I'll leave it at that for now. I hope you enjoyed learning a little bit more about the African people of Ghana.
January 30, 2015
When Life Hands You Lymes - #56
Hey Everyone! Can you imagine? The first month of 2015 is almost already over! Craziness. Actually, there's been so much going on in my life that I can hardly believe it's still January. :) Today is Friday, so sit back and enjoy the 56th segment of my fictional story, When Life Hands You Lymes.
Dear God, My mind is begging me to spill the huge amount of unsolicited thoughts ramming around in my too-small brain and so I’m going to endeavor to do just that and perhaps I’ll be able to find some relief. Life is confusing me. Not just the little things like “What should I do with my life?” but the bigger things. Like, “Why am I here?” and “If I’m just going to be sick day after day, week after week, month after month and then eventually year after year, why do I keep fighting for life?” I remember as a little girl wondering how in the world anyone could ever commit suicide. Life seemed like such a perfect thing back then, a treasure to hold on to, to work with, to turn into a beautiful story. Now I think I understand. Life is hard. Each day I have to make a choice to continue this fight that I didn’t ask for. Sure, there’s beauty, but there’s also pain and at times the pain overshadows everything else. This morning I was ‘excused’ from playing in the Ashburg Symphony. Meaning, Dad was so freaked out by my little stunt of not sleeping for 40ish hours that he refused to let me leave the house. Sure, I see his point, I’m so weak that I’m on the verge of collapsing, but really? Why? Why can’t I do the one thing that still holds excitement for me? It’s so not fair. Ok. Ok. Deep breath. Who am I to be talking to You this way? God, please forgive me. I know You’re so powerful You could have just struck me down dead and I thank You for not doing that. Even though I might not want to continue this fight any more, I would be scared to death and hate to go out while not giving You the honor You deserve. I’m sorry. Alright, let me see how I can say this: I’m freaking out inside, God. I don’t know how to think any more. I don’t know how to pray like I think I’m supposed to. I don’t know if I should be railing against the injustice of life or thanking You for all the added blessings I’ve received in my seventeen years. I don’t know if I should beg You to erase the healthy years of my life so it’s not so difficult to be ok with how life is now, or if I should thank You for giving me those years of living life free from health related trials. I’m worried about who I’m becoming. About the cynical, frowning girl I’m turning into. I’m used to being bubbly. I’m used to finding joy in the little things in life. I’m used to having a grand sense of humor. I hate who I see when I look in the mirror. Dead eyes. A smile-less face. A heart aching so badly it’s blocked out the rest of the world just to try and combat the pain. This isn’t who I want to be. This isn’t the person I signed up to become. I need to change, but I’m not sure how to. I don’t want to continue like this for one more day, yet somehow I let myself get so involved with being sorry for me and focusing on what I want instead of others that I’m not even sure how to change any more. I used to have such great relationships with my family, now I feel like each day we’re drifting a little further apart from each other. Same thing with You. And I’m so sorry about that. I want to change. I really do. But how? How do I change? How do I stop the wheels and reverse this life of mine when it’s going so fast in the wrong direction? Please help me. I want to find joy in life again. I want to praise You. I don’t want to view my life as something I have to endure and want to escape. I want to embrace the moments. Not because they’re easy, but because they’ve been given to me and I have the ability to make a difference in the world. God, I think I’ve stopped believing that You have a reason for my life. I think I’ve stopped believing that I have purpose. That I can make a difference. But it’s true, isn’t it? You can work though my life just as easily now when I’m sick in bed as when I’m healthy and full of passion and zest for life. That’s a crazy thought. Please help me really believe that. Please help me to remember that You are powerful. Please help me to remember that even though I live in a sin cursed world where I have to endure pain and suffering, that it doesn’t mean that You’ve lost control. My thoughts, God, they’re a little bit less confusing now. Or, maybe not less confusing, but at least I’ve cleared some of them out of my brain and I can focus on just abiding now. On just being who I am and not worrying about the rest. I don’t even know what that means. What I do know is that I want to get out and do something. I want to make a difference that I can see. But what if You’ve called me to just quietly praise You while experiencing mind-numbing pain? Father-God, that doesn’t sound like fun to me, but since when did I only do what was fun? Please, please, please help me to stay where You want me to be. For me to hold tight to You and look at where You are instead of where I am. Thank You for having patience with me. Thank You for taking care of me. Thank You for loving me. I pray this in Jesus’ Name. Madalyn Marie Emerson
Dear God, My mind is begging me to spill the huge amount of unsolicited thoughts ramming around in my too-small brain and so I’m going to endeavor to do just that and perhaps I’ll be able to find some relief. Life is confusing me. Not just the little things like “What should I do with my life?” but the bigger things. Like, “Why am I here?” and “If I’m just going to be sick day after day, week after week, month after month and then eventually year after year, why do I keep fighting for life?” I remember as a little girl wondering how in the world anyone could ever commit suicide. Life seemed like such a perfect thing back then, a treasure to hold on to, to work with, to turn into a beautiful story. Now I think I understand. Life is hard. Each day I have to make a choice to continue this fight that I didn’t ask for. Sure, there’s beauty, but there’s also pain and at times the pain overshadows everything else. This morning I was ‘excused’ from playing in the Ashburg Symphony. Meaning, Dad was so freaked out by my little stunt of not sleeping for 40ish hours that he refused to let me leave the house. Sure, I see his point, I’m so weak that I’m on the verge of collapsing, but really? Why? Why can’t I do the one thing that still holds excitement for me? It’s so not fair. Ok. Ok. Deep breath. Who am I to be talking to You this way? God, please forgive me. I know You’re so powerful You could have just struck me down dead and I thank You for not doing that. Even though I might not want to continue this fight any more, I would be scared to death and hate to go out while not giving You the honor You deserve. I’m sorry. Alright, let me see how I can say this: I’m freaking out inside, God. I don’t know how to think any more. I don’t know how to pray like I think I’m supposed to. I don’t know if I should be railing against the injustice of life or thanking You for all the added blessings I’ve received in my seventeen years. I don’t know if I should beg You to erase the healthy years of my life so it’s not so difficult to be ok with how life is now, or if I should thank You for giving me those years of living life free from health related trials. I’m worried about who I’m becoming. About the cynical, frowning girl I’m turning into. I’m used to being bubbly. I’m used to finding joy in the little things in life. I’m used to having a grand sense of humor. I hate who I see when I look in the mirror. Dead eyes. A smile-less face. A heart aching so badly it’s blocked out the rest of the world just to try and combat the pain. This isn’t who I want to be. This isn’t the person I signed up to become. I need to change, but I’m not sure how to. I don’t want to continue like this for one more day, yet somehow I let myself get so involved with being sorry for me and focusing on what I want instead of others that I’m not even sure how to change any more. I used to have such great relationships with my family, now I feel like each day we’re drifting a little further apart from each other. Same thing with You. And I’m so sorry about that. I want to change. I really do. But how? How do I change? How do I stop the wheels and reverse this life of mine when it’s going so fast in the wrong direction? Please help me. I want to find joy in life again. I want to praise You. I don’t want to view my life as something I have to endure and want to escape. I want to embrace the moments. Not because they’re easy, but because they’ve been given to me and I have the ability to make a difference in the world. God, I think I’ve stopped believing that You have a reason for my life. I think I’ve stopped believing that I have purpose. That I can make a difference. But it’s true, isn’t it? You can work though my life just as easily now when I’m sick in bed as when I’m healthy and full of passion and zest for life. That’s a crazy thought. Please help me really believe that. Please help me to remember that You are powerful. Please help me to remember that even though I live in a sin cursed world where I have to endure pain and suffering, that it doesn’t mean that You’ve lost control. My thoughts, God, they’re a little bit less confusing now. Or, maybe not less confusing, but at least I’ve cleared some of them out of my brain and I can focus on just abiding now. On just being who I am and not worrying about the rest. I don’t even know what that means. What I do know is that I want to get out and do something. I want to make a difference that I can see. But what if You’ve called me to just quietly praise You while experiencing mind-numbing pain? Father-God, that doesn’t sound like fun to me, but since when did I only do what was fun? Please, please, please help me to stay where You want me to be. For me to hold tight to You and look at where You are instead of where I am. Thank You for having patience with me. Thank You for taking care of me. Thank You for loving me. I pray this in Jesus’ Name. Madalyn Marie Emerson
January 29, 2015
Writing Update
I'm at the point where I don't have any huge writing projects going on at this time, just a few "maintaining while getting ready for the next big thing" pieces. Due to some big meetings going on with my non-writing related job, I'm waiting a few more weeks before diving into the writing world again. Yea for business meetings in Florida! Instead of the freezing weather back home (which I really do like) I'm sitting in front of an open door, looking out at this:
I do have several happiness-inducing book ideas lurking just below the service of my conscious thoughts as I go about my every day life right now, though, so I'm excited.
Currently I'm debating if I should wade back into the writing groove with a mystery that takes place in Africa (fresh on my mind) or Germany (which is what I've had marinating in my brain for the last six months). Maybe I'll just jump in with both feet and decide to do both. That's one of the good things about writing short (12,000ish words) books for kids: It doesn't take forever and a day to write each one.
I'm also eager to be back in the blogging groove. I made the choice to leave my computer at home and refrain from internet and computer usage during the trip, so that was kinda crazy for me. I throughly enjoyed the break from communicating with the outside world via texting, emails, Facebook, Google+, Twitter, and blogs. Now that I'm back though, I'm very much looking forward to blogging. Blogging is one of my "happy moments" each day. Sadly during this crazy-busy time at work the posting might happen at weird hours. Better late than never though, right?
What have y'all been up to? I'd be delighted to hear!
I do have several happiness-inducing book ideas lurking just below the service of my conscious thoughts as I go about my every day life right now, though, so I'm excited.
Currently I'm debating if I should wade back into the writing groove with a mystery that takes place in Africa (fresh on my mind) or Germany (which is what I've had marinating in my brain for the last six months). Maybe I'll just jump in with both feet and decide to do both. That's one of the good things about writing short (12,000ish words) books for kids: It doesn't take forever and a day to write each one.
I'm also eager to be back in the blogging groove. I made the choice to leave my computer at home and refrain from internet and computer usage during the trip, so that was kinda crazy for me. I throughly enjoyed the break from communicating with the outside world via texting, emails, Facebook, Google+, Twitter, and blogs. Now that I'm back though, I'm very much looking forward to blogging. Blogging is one of my "happy moments" each day. Sadly during this crazy-busy time at work the posting might happen at weird hours. Better late than never though, right?
What have y'all been up to? I'd be delighted to hear!
January 28, 2015
To Africa, to Africa! - Ghanaian Trip Part 1
One of my favorite parts about traveling is, well, the traveling.
To me long car rides, long flights and long layovers just add an extra element to life and always have the potential for unexpected excitement. There's something kinda crazy about rushing through a building you've never been in before to go and sit on a plane, that will fly thousands of feet above the air, full of strangers you've never met and will more than likely never meet again. And of course when there is trouble, that's when the best stories come in.
We left home around 11:30 on Saturday, January 10th. Three hours later we arrived at the airport and without any difficulties or excitement checked our five totes and four big suitcases, said good-bye to our family and headed to our gate.
Everything went smoothly and on time and we were happily boarded on our second plane at around 7:45 that night. The flight from JFK to Accra, Ghana, was supposed to be nine hours, and with the five hour time difference we were supposed to land in Africa at around 10:00 am, Sunday morning.
Only, instead of taking off after everyone was boarded, we just sat in the plane. Then the crew came through the cabin, looking for a couple of passengers. And we continued sitting there. Finally they announced over the loud-speaker that one of the passengers hadn't shown up and according to federal regulations we weren't allowed to take off until the passenger's luggage was unloaded from the cargo hold. It was 9:15 when we finally took off.
There comes a point in most of the all-night flights I've taken where it feels like the hours are dragging by and I feel all stuffy, the air is so dry it feels like I need to drink everything I can get my hands on and my excitement at traveling gives way to just wishing I could arrive at my destination. Then eventually they turn on the lights, serve breakfast and life is back in a workable rhythm.
As the morning progressed, I watched my screen (on long flights each person has a little screen in front of them where they can watch movies, play games, track the flight, etc...), with eagerness as we approached Accra, the capital of Ghana which was our destination for the day.
Our original plan was to fly into Accra, then get a flight the next day for Tamale, the city where we were going to be staying for two weeks. A few days earlier we had gotten an email from our friends telling us that our flight from Accra to Tamale had been canceled due to The Harmattan. Therefore we were going to bus to Tamale; we were excited about getting to see so much of the country from the bus windows.
When our flight tracker said we were eight minutes away from Accra, I felt our plane lowering and beginning to circle. Only, every time I tried to get a glimpse of the land from out the window, all I could see was a redish-brown fog. This went on... and on... and on until I began to get perplexed. Something was not right. And, our flight tracker continued to say we were eight minutes away. A few scenarios about what could be happening to make landing impossible flashed through my brain and I began praying that everything would be ok. It was about this time that the plane turned and headed back the way we had come. Turning to Aubrey, I gestured at the screen in front of me, "Hey, we're going home!" We'd been circling the airport for around 30-60 minutes.
After a few minutes of wondering what in the world was happening, they announced over the loudspeaker that due to the high dust and low visibility we were unable to land in Accra and were heading to Abidjan to wait. We girls could hardly believe our eyes when we zoomed up on the map and discovered that Abidjan was in Ivory Coast. It was crazy because I didn't recall ever hearing of that country before, and now we were about ready to land in it.
Then came the waiting. We borrowed a cell phone from one of the other passengers and let our friend who was going to pick us up at the airport know what was going on. A lot of the people got out of their seats and went around the plane visiting. The people right behind us said that the day before a cargo plane had tried to land in Accra and because of the low visibility had overshot the runway and crashed. Thankfully no one was seriously harmed. After a while I leaned down on the tray table and was finally able to get a nice couple hours of sleep in.
Every 30 minutes or so we'd get an update over the loudspeakers. We were in a race against time, pretty much, because the pilots are only allowed to be on flight duty for a certain amount of time before they have to take a long break. So, if we weren't able to fly back to Accra within a certain period of time, then their on-flight duty time would run out and they would just have to fly us to another city (which was actually in yet another country, but I can't remember which) and we would spend the night there while waiting for new pilots to be flown in to take us to Accra.
At last the dust had settled enough in Accra for us to land, but then we ran into another snag. We had to be fueled up before we could take off, and there were other planes ahead of us in the fueling up process. Finally we got fueled up, but there was a disagreement between Abidjan and the Delta headquarters about how they were going to pay for the services. Then that got worked out, but the pilots on-duty time was going to run out before we reached Accra.
At last (happy day!) the pilots got an extension, the payment service was satisfactory on all sides and all we had to do was get pushed out by the ground crew and we'd be on our way. Then the ground crew decided it didn't want to help us out without some added incentive, so we had to wait for the pilots, the Delta airlines and the ground crew to reach an agreement and finally we were in the air again!
All in all we were only in Abidjan for four or so hours, but following the long journey we'd already had and mixed with all the uncertainty about what was going to happen next, it was a rather long detour.
Our whole plane erupted in cheers when we finally landed safely in Accra, nineteen hours after we boarded the plane for a nine hour flight, and around twenty-five hours since we girls had left home.
By the time we collected our luggage, went through customs and had completed all of our needed paperwork, it was dark outside and our first day in Africa was almost over. Leaving the airport we were so happy to see our friend waiting to take us to their house. After a happy hour-ish ride, dodging in and out off traffic, we arrived at our destination and through our exhaustion ate a wonderful meal.
After eating, we unpacked about half of our luggage because we were leaving several totes worth of stuff in Accra with our friends. Next, we condensed and repacked everything else then fell into bed for several hours of sleep before leaving for the bus station at 4:00 the next morning.
To me long car rides, long flights and long layovers just add an extra element to life and always have the potential for unexpected excitement. There's something kinda crazy about rushing through a building you've never been in before to go and sit on a plane, that will fly thousands of feet above the air, full of strangers you've never met and will more than likely never meet again. And of course when there is trouble, that's when the best stories come in.
We left home around 11:30 on Saturday, January 10th. Three hours later we arrived at the airport and without any difficulties or excitement checked our five totes and four big suitcases, said good-bye to our family and headed to our gate.
Everything went smoothly and on time and we were happily boarded on our second plane at around 7:45 that night. The flight from JFK to Accra, Ghana, was supposed to be nine hours, and with the five hour time difference we were supposed to land in Africa at around 10:00 am, Sunday morning.
Only, instead of taking off after everyone was boarded, we just sat in the plane. Then the crew came through the cabin, looking for a couple of passengers. And we continued sitting there. Finally they announced over the loud-speaker that one of the passengers hadn't shown up and according to federal regulations we weren't allowed to take off until the passenger's luggage was unloaded from the cargo hold. It was 9:15 when we finally took off.
There comes a point in most of the all-night flights I've taken where it feels like the hours are dragging by and I feel all stuffy, the air is so dry it feels like I need to drink everything I can get my hands on and my excitement at traveling gives way to just wishing I could arrive at my destination. Then eventually they turn on the lights, serve breakfast and life is back in a workable rhythm.
As the morning progressed, I watched my screen (on long flights each person has a little screen in front of them where they can watch movies, play games, track the flight, etc...), with eagerness as we approached Accra, the capital of Ghana which was our destination for the day.
Our original plan was to fly into Accra, then get a flight the next day for Tamale, the city where we were going to be staying for two weeks. A few days earlier we had gotten an email from our friends telling us that our flight from Accra to Tamale had been canceled due to The Harmattan. Therefore we were going to bus to Tamale; we were excited about getting to see so much of the country from the bus windows.
When our flight tracker said we were eight minutes away from Accra, I felt our plane lowering and beginning to circle. Only, every time I tried to get a glimpse of the land from out the window, all I could see was a redish-brown fog. This went on... and on... and on until I began to get perplexed. Something was not right. And, our flight tracker continued to say we were eight minutes away. A few scenarios about what could be happening to make landing impossible flashed through my brain and I began praying that everything would be ok. It was about this time that the plane turned and headed back the way we had come. Turning to Aubrey, I gestured at the screen in front of me, "Hey, we're going home!" We'd been circling the airport for around 30-60 minutes.After a few minutes of wondering what in the world was happening, they announced over the loudspeaker that due to the high dust and low visibility we were unable to land in Accra and were heading to Abidjan to wait. We girls could hardly believe our eyes when we zoomed up on the map and discovered that Abidjan was in Ivory Coast. It was crazy because I didn't recall ever hearing of that country before, and now we were about ready to land in it.
Then came the waiting. We borrowed a cell phone from one of the other passengers and let our friend who was going to pick us up at the airport know what was going on. A lot of the people got out of their seats and went around the plane visiting. The people right behind us said that the day before a cargo plane had tried to land in Accra and because of the low visibility had overshot the runway and crashed. Thankfully no one was seriously harmed. After a while I leaned down on the tray table and was finally able to get a nice couple hours of sleep in.
Every 30 minutes or so we'd get an update over the loudspeakers. We were in a race against time, pretty much, because the pilots are only allowed to be on flight duty for a certain amount of time before they have to take a long break. So, if we weren't able to fly back to Accra within a certain period of time, then their on-flight duty time would run out and they would just have to fly us to another city (which was actually in yet another country, but I can't remember which) and we would spend the night there while waiting for new pilots to be flown in to take us to Accra.
At last the dust had settled enough in Accra for us to land, but then we ran into another snag. We had to be fueled up before we could take off, and there were other planes ahead of us in the fueling up process. Finally we got fueled up, but there was a disagreement between Abidjan and the Delta headquarters about how they were going to pay for the services. Then that got worked out, but the pilots on-duty time was going to run out before we reached Accra.
At last (happy day!) the pilots got an extension, the payment service was satisfactory on all sides and all we had to do was get pushed out by the ground crew and we'd be on our way. Then the ground crew decided it didn't want to help us out without some added incentive, so we had to wait for the pilots, the Delta airlines and the ground crew to reach an agreement and finally we were in the air again!
All in all we were only in Abidjan for four or so hours, but following the long journey we'd already had and mixed with all the uncertainty about what was going to happen next, it was a rather long detour.
Our whole plane erupted in cheers when we finally landed safely in Accra, nineteen hours after we boarded the plane for a nine hour flight, and around twenty-five hours since we girls had left home.
By the time we collected our luggage, went through customs and had completed all of our needed paperwork, it was dark outside and our first day in Africa was almost over. Leaving the airport we were so happy to see our friend waiting to take us to their house. After a happy hour-ish ride, dodging in and out off traffic, we arrived at our destination and through our exhaustion ate a wonderful meal.
After eating, we unpacked about half of our luggage because we were leaving several totes worth of stuff in Accra with our friends. Next, we condensed and repacked everything else then fell into bed for several hours of sleep before leaving for the bus station at 4:00 the next morning.
January 26, 2015
Back from Africa!
Hey Everyone!
Just a little update to let you know I'm back in the states now! It was a crazy and amazing two weeks in Africa and I'm excited about sharing all about it with y'all. I'm currently in the airport waiting for my last flight of the day, which will be to Florida. I'll be away from home with business meetings, a book signing and family time for almost a month longer, so the adventure continues.
There are so many stories to tell, pictures to show, excitement to share and all that kind of good stuff that takes place after a two week trip to a perviously unexplored (by me) continent.
Thank you to everyone who read my blog and to everyone who commented when I was gone. It was wonderful to come back to so many comments. Thanks, y'all, for sharing my life with me.
And, my plane is boarding now, so I've got to go, but I hope you enjoy this little glimpse of Africa. Have a great Monday, y'all!
January 23, 2015
When Life Hands You Lymes - # 55
Happy Friday! I hope y'all enjoy the 55 segment of my fictional story, When Life Hands You Lymes.
“Madalyn?” Abbie’s sweet voice made me wake up with a smile. “Hey.” “I’d wanted to let you keep sleeping, but your mom said you’d want to wake up.” Abbie perched on the side of my bed. I tossed my pillow up in the air, then caught it. “She was right.” I swung the pillow at Abbie. “I’ve gotten enough sleep for today. I’m feeling all vigorous and seventeenish and all that good stuff.” Abbie ducked the pillow, then tapped my head with another one. “I thought maybe you’d let me give you your gift now, before everyone else gets here.” “Oh my.” I felt a grin sliding over my face. “I’m going to guess it’s something you made?” My artistic friend hops to her feet. “Of course. Now close your eyes and put out your hands.” I do as she tells me and then I sit there waiting. And waiting. And waiting. I can hear her moving around the room, but I can’t tell what she’s doing. “Don’t you dare peek,” Abbie’s voice warns me just as I’m about ready to open one eyelid a teeny-tiny amount. “Abigail!” I turn on the whine in my voice. “You can’t do this to me. You’re making me way too curious.” “Ha, you like being curious.” She does have a valid point, so instead of trying to argue I break out with a fake whimper. “It’s just not fair.” I wail the last word. “If you’re trying to engage my sympathy you’re succeeding.” I can tell I’m making Abbie feel bad even though she knows I’m not being serious. Abbie’s so thoughtful and sensitive that she’s easy to get to.” I consider continuing my charade, but then decide against it since she is working on a surprise for me. “Alright, you can open your eyes now.” “Um, but my hands are still empty.” I hold them up, eyes still closed, wondering if Abbie could have really been bothered enough to forget to give me my present. “Having you hold your hands out was just so you’d be distracted.” My eyes pop open and I look around the room for a moment, feeling disoriented as I try and figure out what’s different. Abbie’s standing back, eyes trained on me, a hopeful smile on her face. Then I notice it. “The curtains!” Jumping out of bed I throw my arms around Abbie and squeeze tight. “I take that to mean you approve?” Nodding, I rush over and run my hands over the smooth fabric. Abbie, the talented seamstress she is, had made music themed curtains for my three floor to ceiling windows. The background was the color of burlap and there were black pianos and music notes scattered all over. “As soon as I saw the fabric I thought of you. Katie got me the measurements and now you have the final product.” “That was so incredibly thoughtful of you.” Giving Abbie another hug I step back to surrey the who room. “They fit my room and my personality perfectly.” I grab her hands and dance around the room with her. “You’re a good friend. Thank you.”
“Madalyn?” Abbie’s sweet voice made me wake up with a smile. “Hey.” “I’d wanted to let you keep sleeping, but your mom said you’d want to wake up.” Abbie perched on the side of my bed. I tossed my pillow up in the air, then caught it. “She was right.” I swung the pillow at Abbie. “I’ve gotten enough sleep for today. I’m feeling all vigorous and seventeenish and all that good stuff.” Abbie ducked the pillow, then tapped my head with another one. “I thought maybe you’d let me give you your gift now, before everyone else gets here.” “Oh my.” I felt a grin sliding over my face. “I’m going to guess it’s something you made?” My artistic friend hops to her feet. “Of course. Now close your eyes and put out your hands.” I do as she tells me and then I sit there waiting. And waiting. And waiting. I can hear her moving around the room, but I can’t tell what she’s doing. “Don’t you dare peek,” Abbie’s voice warns me just as I’m about ready to open one eyelid a teeny-tiny amount. “Abigail!” I turn on the whine in my voice. “You can’t do this to me. You’re making me way too curious.” “Ha, you like being curious.” She does have a valid point, so instead of trying to argue I break out with a fake whimper. “It’s just not fair.” I wail the last word. “If you’re trying to engage my sympathy you’re succeeding.” I can tell I’m making Abbie feel bad even though she knows I’m not being serious. Abbie’s so thoughtful and sensitive that she’s easy to get to.” I consider continuing my charade, but then decide against it since she is working on a surprise for me. “Alright, you can open your eyes now.” “Um, but my hands are still empty.” I hold them up, eyes still closed, wondering if Abbie could have really been bothered enough to forget to give me my present. “Having you hold your hands out was just so you’d be distracted.” My eyes pop open and I look around the room for a moment, feeling disoriented as I try and figure out what’s different. Abbie’s standing back, eyes trained on me, a hopeful smile on her face. Then I notice it. “The curtains!” Jumping out of bed I throw my arms around Abbie and squeeze tight. “I take that to mean you approve?” Nodding, I rush over and run my hands over the smooth fabric. Abbie, the talented seamstress she is, had made music themed curtains for my three floor to ceiling windows. The background was the color of burlap and there were black pianos and music notes scattered all over. “As soon as I saw the fabric I thought of you. Katie got me the measurements and now you have the final product.” “That was so incredibly thoughtful of you.” Giving Abbie another hug I step back to surrey the who room. “They fit my room and my personality perfectly.” I grab her hands and dance around the room with her. “You’re a good friend. Thank you.”
January 22, 2015
January 21, 2015
Is My Writing Like Salt or Rotten Lettuce?
Just like salt adds flavor to our food, there are certain words that add flavor to our writing. And just like rotten lettuce takes away from the enjoyment we experience while eating a salad, there are certain words that take away from a sentence.
My problem? I'm still trying to figure out what words fit in what category.
I know that any word when used repetitively gets redundant and annoying. It's surprising how surprised some people get while reading a suspense mystery. I mean, mysteries are supposed to have surprises, right? So why would anyone be surprised by a surprise in a novel where surprises are common?
Ok. Wasn't that painful to read? Repetitive words obviously fall into the rotten lettuce side of the spectrum.
What about descriptive words though? They're good, right? Well, it depends. When someone uses cliché expressions all the time it gets old really fast. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her heart pounding in her ears. It was a dark and stormy night. Her dark eyes flashing. So yeah, cliched descriptions are out, too.
What about non-clichéd descriptions, though? The chair was the softest, most comfortable thing I had ever sat in; it almost felt as if I were on top of a scoop of whip topping. The path the wind had taken was clearly evident by the toppled spruce trees that looked like they'd been plucked from the ground by a baluchitherium. The day had been full of pricks and burns, it kinda felt like I'd had a flaming porcupine riding around in my pocket.
Alrighty, alrighty, so maybe I'm not coming up with the best non-cliché descriptions, but I think overall descriptive words in moderation fall into the salt category.
What about using large or uncommon words? While I concede that not everyone is a sesquipedalian, I conjure to establish the verifiable and constructive certitude that being in possession of a proliferate vocabulary is beneficial. Just don't over do it.
* * *
What about you? What are some things you'd add to the list?
My problem? I'm still trying to figure out what words fit in what category.
I know that any word when used repetitively gets redundant and annoying. It's surprising how surprised some people get while reading a suspense mystery. I mean, mysteries are supposed to have surprises, right? So why would anyone be surprised by a surprise in a novel where surprises are common?
Ok. Wasn't that painful to read? Repetitive words obviously fall into the rotten lettuce side of the spectrum.
What about descriptive words though? They're good, right? Well, it depends. When someone uses cliché expressions all the time it gets old really fast. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her heart pounding in her ears. It was a dark and stormy night. Her dark eyes flashing. So yeah, cliched descriptions are out, too.
What about non-clichéd descriptions, though? The chair was the softest, most comfortable thing I had ever sat in; it almost felt as if I were on top of a scoop of whip topping. The path the wind had taken was clearly evident by the toppled spruce trees that looked like they'd been plucked from the ground by a baluchitherium. The day had been full of pricks and burns, it kinda felt like I'd had a flaming porcupine riding around in my pocket.
Alrighty, alrighty, so maybe I'm not coming up with the best non-cliché descriptions, but I think overall descriptive words in moderation fall into the salt category.
What about using large or uncommon words? While I concede that not everyone is a sesquipedalian, I conjure to establish the verifiable and constructive certitude that being in possession of a proliferate vocabulary is beneficial. Just don't over do it.
* * *
What about you? What are some things you'd add to the list?
January 20, 2015
Traveling - Being Me
I want to travel the world. From Alaska to India, from Poland to Montana, from China to Antarctica, it all sounds so intriguing. In fact, I can't think of a country or state that I don't want to visit one day.
Until recently I thought this was normal. I thought everyone had a thumping in their heart to see the world like I do. To experience new sights, sounds, scents and flavors. To touch another part of the world, to feel another culture seep into their being, to strive to understand the way other people groups communicate.
Traveling pushes me out of my comfort zone (time and time and time again), yet it's a good thing. Uncomfortable? Yes, it can be. But it's worth it.
The thought of eating cat or being stuck on a 15 hour-long bus ride with no bathrooms at the "rest stops", or shopping at a market place where chicken heads and cow intestines sitting out in the heat of the day smell everything up might not always be viewed as fun, but that doesn't mean I would refuse to experience a piece of another person's life.
Traveling has been a big part of my life during the last few years (since I was 18 I've been blessed to travel between two and a half and almost five months a year), but traveling doesn't define who I am. When I'm home I'm content, loving my life and finding enjoyment in the every day, "normal" blessings I get to experience.
Would I be sad if I never got to travel again? Probably, but I truly don't think it would change the level of enjoyment I find in life.
You know what? Just like I find beauty in an old castle in Europe and a tumbling waterfall in Asia, I also find breath-taking beauty on the little country road I live on. Just like I enjoy eating potatoes and cheese in South America, I also enjoy trying out new concoctions in my kitchen here at home. Just like I enjoy listening to Mexican music in Latin America, I also enjoy sitting in my red and tan office, working on writing while listening to music made by my friends.
Traveling doesn't make my life exciting. Traveling adds to the excitement, but my life is exciting because it's my life.
And on that note... I'd better go so I can finish packing for Africa. :)
(Post written Monday, January 5th.)
Until recently I thought this was normal. I thought everyone had a thumping in their heart to see the world like I do. To experience new sights, sounds, scents and flavors. To touch another part of the world, to feel another culture seep into their being, to strive to understand the way other people groups communicate.
Traveling pushes me out of my comfort zone (time and time and time again), yet it's a good thing. Uncomfortable? Yes, it can be. But it's worth it.
The thought of eating cat or being stuck on a 15 hour-long bus ride with no bathrooms at the "rest stops", or shopping at a market place where chicken heads and cow intestines sitting out in the heat of the day smell everything up might not always be viewed as fun, but that doesn't mean I would refuse to experience a piece of another person's life.
Traveling has been a big part of my life during the last few years (since I was 18 I've been blessed to travel between two and a half and almost five months a year), but traveling doesn't define who I am. When I'm home I'm content, loving my life and finding enjoyment in the every day, "normal" blessings I get to experience.
Would I be sad if I never got to travel again? Probably, but I truly don't think it would change the level of enjoyment I find in life.
You know what? Just like I find beauty in an old castle in Europe and a tumbling waterfall in Asia, I also find breath-taking beauty on the little country road I live on. Just like I enjoy eating potatoes and cheese in South America, I also enjoy trying out new concoctions in my kitchen here at home. Just like I enjoy listening to Mexican music in Latin America, I also enjoy sitting in my red and tan office, working on writing while listening to music made by my friends.
Traveling doesn't make my life exciting. Traveling adds to the excitement, but my life is exciting because it's my life.
And on that note... I'd better go so I can finish packing for Africa. :)
(Post written Monday, January 5th.)
January 19, 2015
A Special Day
Some of my earliest memories are of being read to when I was just a little bitty thing. Snuggling in bed next to Mom, I had the prime seat where I could see the pictures. I was the youngest after all.
When I found out I was going to be a big sister, I danced around with joy. Each sibling added to the family after that upped Mom's workload, and our family's fun-load. I remember people asking time and time again what it was like being in a big family? How did my mom manage? Did I like it?
Being home-schooled was all I knew, but I never wanted anything else. I enjoyed the freedom of tailoring my subjects to help move me to the next level with my writing. I didn't realize at the time how much work it added to Mom's life. How much she gave up so that she could teach us herself.
I was still pretty young when I started gardening, raising animals, doing laundry, helping with the housework and cooking. Now that I have an abundance of little siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews, I can see that having kids "help" with the work can often add even more work to the already toppling stack, but how else do they learn? I have no clue how much extra time it took Mom to get everything done while teaching us, but I'm very grateful for all the time she spent with us early on. Plus Mom knew how to make work fun.
There's no way I'll ever know what all Mom had to endure while taking us kids back and forth to out-of-state specialists to treat our Lyme disease, nor all she went to in the years leading up to our diagnosis. What I do know is I'm glad she didn't give up, even when the doctors told her to.
I didn't realize until recently how unusual it was that our family sits down at the table twice a day for a family meal where we discuss everything from work to eyesight to family memories to dreams to green beans and seemingly everything in between. Our family is close to each other.
I could keep going and going, but I think I'll end there.
Today, this day that I'm far away in Africa, is my wonderful Mom's birthday. A birthday that she's spending serving others, blessing her grandchildren and being the amazing, giving, sweet, godly Mom that she is.
I love you, Mom, and I hope you have a wonderful day! Thank you for all you've done for me!
When I found out I was going to be a big sister, I danced around with joy. Each sibling added to the family after that upped Mom's workload, and our family's fun-load. I remember people asking time and time again what it was like being in a big family? How did my mom manage? Did I like it?
Being home-schooled was all I knew, but I never wanted anything else. I enjoyed the freedom of tailoring my subjects to help move me to the next level with my writing. I didn't realize at the time how much work it added to Mom's life. How much she gave up so that she could teach us herself.
I was still pretty young when I started gardening, raising animals, doing laundry, helping with the housework and cooking. Now that I have an abundance of little siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews, I can see that having kids "help" with the work can often add even more work to the already toppling stack, but how else do they learn? I have no clue how much extra time it took Mom to get everything done while teaching us, but I'm very grateful for all the time she spent with us early on. Plus Mom knew how to make work fun.
There's no way I'll ever know what all Mom had to endure while taking us kids back and forth to out-of-state specialists to treat our Lyme disease, nor all she went to in the years leading up to our diagnosis. What I do know is I'm glad she didn't give up, even when the doctors told her to.
I didn't realize until recently how unusual it was that our family sits down at the table twice a day for a family meal where we discuss everything from work to eyesight to family memories to dreams to green beans and seemingly everything in between. Our family is close to each other.
I could keep going and going, but I think I'll end there.
Today, this day that I'm far away in Africa, is my wonderful Mom's birthday. A birthday that she's spending serving others, blessing her grandchildren and being the amazing, giving, sweet, godly Mom that she is.
I love you, Mom, and I hope you have a wonderful day! Thank you for all you've done for me!
