Oh food, how I love thee. Without you, I could not survive. It be true, I couldn’t. Anyways, enough with silliness. Something I love doing is eating food in other countries. Sometimes it’s as tame as eating crepes in Paris, and other’s it’s as interesting as eating squid in Seoul.




Here in West Africa, there are quite a few ‘strange’ things to choose. There is street meat, fofo, and banku. Now street meat is the most dangerous, because I never know what I am getting. If it is the shish kebabs it is so spiced up that, it no longer has a taste of its own. It is still good, just slightly more dangerous, because it does not tend to be cooked on the spot and I am not always sure what sort of surfaces and hands it has touched between the time cooked and the time eaten by me. There is another type of street meat, which is a bunch of chunks of either goat (not a bad tasting meat) or cow cooked right in front of the person about to eat it. This is considered the safer bet as the big peace of metal the meat is cooked on is sanitized through extreme heat. Of course, the actual quality in the health department of the meat is still a mystery.

I love street Meat! More because I feel like an adventurer than because it tastes good, which it does.

The other food mentioned is fofo and banku. Both are basically big balls of doughy substance, which is dipped into a sauce. Therefore, when picturing Africa people often view a woman pounding a tree-branch sized stick into a vase like bowl. What they are pounding is a root, which after much pounding turns into the doughy substance called fofo. There is a reason why Africans are so strong. Anyways, there is a little restaurant where I can buy a plate of fofo or banku for only ten thousand Leoneans. That equals about two dollars. There are so many restaurants here made specifically for wealthy Africans and foreigners, and the food is expensive! In America, I would never spend that much for food (at least ten dollars for a plate) on a regular basis. Instead, I can have African food where the buildings might be a little less posh and the food less delicate, but it is good and cheep.

So, that is African food.



On other news, I am at this moment sitting at reception for the last time. That’s not true. I will probably hold the fort several more times between now and when I leave, but it’s the end of my official reception responsibilities. That is so strange to me. I’ve worked at reception for two years now. It’s had its difficulties, but overall it has been good.

Taking a walk

One of the best ways to experience a country is by taking a walk. This past week I have gone on two walks to the Crown Bakery, and the week before we walked to the museum by the cotton tree. Both take about forty five minutes to get to on foot. In a car, it could take from fifteen minutes to two hours depending on traffic.

The streets of Freetown, Sierra Leone are both fascinating and over the top frustrating. To meander one’s way to the crown or to the museum, one must go through the street market. Think of a flee market on a busy street. Small shops under old west saloon type buildings with their dilapidated and artsy balconies line both sides of the street. Fruit, spices, shoes, and clothing stalls stand wooden and rickety right in front of those, almost completely blocking the small sidewalks. In front of both, on the street itself, is numerous venders selling soaps, spices, shoes, and diapers, in large bowls, old blankets, and right on the tarmac. There is a constant noise, a pushing, a shoving, and people pulling at the pedestrians to look at their product, hoping the foreigner will spend more than it is worth. All this, and I haven’t even added the traffic!

Most people in Africa just walk everywhere, so on the main thoroughfares there are huge crowds (especially on the street market) mobbing the whole place: a continuous stream of bodies weaving in and out of each other as mini busses, semi trucks and taxis stream through, pushing and squishing people to the side, and causing the vendors on the street to scramble up with their merchandise, breathing a sigh of relief as their toes are not squished. On these streets I have had people pulling on my sleeves, little kids taking my hands, my ears numbed, and a feeling of overwhelming come over me.

There is a reason Africans are so communal. They have no choice otherwise. As little children, many of them take naps on the sidewalk as their parents yell their wares out to the passing populace. When they grow old enough (about five), they get their own bowl to place on top of their head and wander up and down the street calling out for people to buy from them.

I almost paint a bad picture, but it is not. It is a communal picture. I hear laughter often as moms' joke about something that went on that day (not unusual for me to be the butt of the joke). Many of them lounge in their chairs and chat to one another and let a tape recorder do the calling out. There is even a street performer in one of the byways and people gather around to watch him much like in Paris or London.

People stay in basically the same place day in and out. I’m starting to recognize them. On one of the corners, close to the bakery is a coconut seller. He sells them, chops them open, and takes out their meat while you stand there, all from a wheelbarrow. One has to stand there while drinking the water and eating the meat because he takes the shell back. It’s the same idea with coke vendors. African coke, along with fanta and sprite, comes in a bottle. The vendors get money for bringing back the glass bottle to their supplier so one must drink the coke right there. In America this would never work. People are too busy moving, thus the reason for take away and fast food. Here people stand and chat to one another as they refresh themselves with the best tasting coke I have ever had.

Truly, I have grown to love Africa, and taking walks has done just that.

Note: The pictures taken were from a car, and are not in the places described, but they give a good depiction of what I mean. I rarely take pictures when walking.

Salsa and God

            What does one think of when one says salsa? Well maybe the sauce, but I mean the dance. The picture I get, or I should say got, was sexuality, male with female, gracefulness, maybe some dark lighting. I did not picture myself and prophecies from God. On Wednesday night I went dancing with a group of people who go almost every week. It’s pretty cool to see men and women who did not know an inch of salsa, flying on the dance floor. Well this was my third time, so I’m still not that great (thankfully with the right dancing partner it doesn’t matter because he’ll just fly me around). On one of the lessons, God nudged me (think almost visual picture with a mix of feeling) and said “remember that prophecy."

When I was fourteen at winter camp a lady told me in prophecy form that one day I would dance but she didn’t know how. Well picture a scrawny teenager who is socially awkward and not exactly graceful and see how she reacted. In the years since I have danced before the lord and several occasions.

One of the more notable times, was when I was at church one Sunday and I learned there was a shooting at YWAM where I had gone to school and possibly deaths. I had no idea who was killed. I danced before God then, cause I didn’t know how else to express myself in God’s presence. 

Apparently, my learning Salsa was one of the parts of this prophecy. From what I can gather, dancing is one of the more self assured things to do. When dancing alone I can’t think, or at least not care what other people are thinking. When dancing with another person, I have to be ok with touching other people. Both show a need for me to not care if I make a fool of myself. Anyways, the point is, God said, see I have molded you into such a confident young woman, and I love you enough to get you into Salsa. Hehe. God’s cool.

Still Small Voice

God’s presence is so good. Sometimes it comes in this rush and I am filled with the joy of the Lord. Other times it is just the tender comfort of quiet. I received the later today. Just a sense of calm. I am an extremely analytical person. It means I think through things (usually wrongly) over and over until it drives me a little nutty. Today, as my friends were not in the dining room that I could see, I went up to deck seven to eat. Deck seven is a semi open air deck (think of a porch) with two tables and the corresponding chairs. It overlooks Sierra Leone, which with all its poverty, ramshackle housing, and smoky surroundings, is actually quite beautiful to view. I was joined by one other person, but at first neither of us talked except for the greeting. When we finally did talk it was without the need to put a bunch of words together and fill up space. It wasn’t small talk. I don’t really like small talk. Inside these large spaces I had music in my head and I could talk to Abba, my daddy. I felt calm. Quiet. Peaceful.

Yesterday, I finally bought my plane ticket home. November 27th is not that far away, and the plane ticket brought that all the more close. August 19th was my two year anniversary. I can still remember the day I came here, came home. We landed in Benin, drove, met a bunch of strangers who drove us to the ship. What a comfort it was to see all my gateway family lined up next to the gangway with signs, ready to take me and my fellow travelers (other gateway family members) into their arms. It was surreal but I was home.

This really is home. Here I have grown friends who, once we are apart physically, I will never part spiritually for they have become my brothers and sisters. Here, I learned the meaning of the prophecy told over me; that I would one day unfold and come into myself. Here, I have cried, I have laughed more times than I can count, I have done some crazy things, I have become friends with people from all over the world, I have sung on worship team, I have sung a solo(!), and I have said goodbye to hundreds of friends.

My gateway group, which has started out in the twenties has dwindled to about six. I have been to twenty-four countries. I have met thousands of people, but normally I am the one who says goodbye and drives away. I have become tired and sometimes downright moody. I feel like an old woman sometimes who says “well in my day…” because I do. I say things like, “Well when I started two years ago…”

Am I complaining? Maybe a little, but this little bit of sadness, cannot compare to the abundant joy of the former. I am so so glad I came. This has been a marvelous experience.

Still, thanks God for giving me this one moment of quiet where I didn’t have to put up any mask, and I could just be.

God bless all of you,
Heather

A FEW THINGS WHICH HAPPENED THIS PAST MONTH



Went to the Crown Bakery and had a Lebanese breakfast

 Movie Fest on board - dressed up

Said goodbye to Johan

Country Line Dancing!

Airplanes

Dear Readers,
I beseech you to forgive me. Ok, well I have no good reason for my absence so I will make it up by trying to give a faithful account of life on board in the past few weeks. It’s been interesting.
Every job has its ups and down’s, disadvantages and advantages. The advantage being I get to know almost everyone on the ship. The disadvantage is I have many hours where nothing happens. We do a lot at reception but most of those things only take a few minutes.
This week I worked night shift. Now, most people, when they hear that, feel sorry for me. It’s actually not that bad of a time. I get the quiet time, so rare on this ship, that I need. While I did get my quiet time, I also had a bit of chaos mixed in.
Our most used airways is Brussels and they only use the one plane to go back and forth between Europe and Sierra Leone. That one plane kicked up a rock into it’s engine and became temporarily unusable. This meant the poor people trying to leave the ship went back and forth from the airport twice, only succeeding the third time in getting on airplane.
What this entailed was hours of traveling to the airport, a few hours at the airport and hours coming back. To say the least, people were not happy. It was my job to get them back into their old cabins (hospitality, God bless them, did most of the work on that part) and do the paperwork necessary. I’ve never seen so many people up and about at twelve in the morning, what with drivers, hospitality, and those wanting to greet the poor souls coming back.
To end it all, everyone is safe and sound where they are supposed to be. The arrivals are here, and the departures are gone.
As for me, my most exciting time was going out to eat at a nice restaurant. My roommates and I decided we needed a roommate get together (yes I’m back in a regular cabin with three roommates) and so we went out to eat. It wasn’t so much the eating (my food tasted like street meat and I know that because I’ve had street meat) but the drive back that I found fascinating. Our taxi driver was one I’ve used before so I knew him well enough to sit up front and chat with him. He is a Muslim by the name of Polo. We talked a bit about our religions. At the time it was Ramadan (I think the month of Ramadan is finished now). Religions is one of my favorite things to talk about as well as other cultures. Here I was getting both things in one go. Yes, it was a nice time.
Suffice to say, the past few weeks, has been interesting.
Well, God bless all of you,
Heather

Banana Island

Hello all,
This has been a fairly interesting week. Not because there is anything truly new going on, on the Africa Mercy. I am still living in a family cabin (cabin sitting) with Becca. Probably the biggest change on board, for me anyways, is the arrival of a good friend who is back on board and once again our reception team is full. One of the highschoolers was good enough to work here during her summer breaks.

So what I did these past few weeks: the Wednesday before last, we went Salsa dancing again. It was one of my friend's birthday, and as he is one of those who has gone salsa dancing every week, we did that and added a dinner and a cake into the mix. Very tasty and fun.

More to the point was this weekend. A small group of us stayed over night on an island. As I got ready for it, I found out from my friend that she didn't have a clue about the accomadations. I had visions of sleeping on the sand covered beach, with little protection from mosquitoes and small small food. While it was rough with no electricity and we didn't receive food until nine pm, we did have beds, mosquito nets, and coverings from the rain. We didn't do much (kinda the point when one leaves the ship) except lie on the beach, read, watch the sunset, talk, and play the dutch game - jungle speed. It was nice to sit together and get to know eachother a little bit better. I didn't get eaten by bugs too much and I didn't go to bed on a hard ground. I call that a win!

God bless,
Heather

Dancing + Dress Shopping + Worship = A good week

“People are going to think you’re an extrovert.” That’s the laughing response I got when I told someone I had gotten off the ship yet again. So, I haven’t left the ship every day this week but a good amount.

Wednesday night was the most eventful in that respect. For the past I don’t know how long, a group of people have been going salsa dancing. I joined this past Wednesday. So, I’m still not the greatest dancer – little coordination, but oh it was so fun. I twirled. I floated. I stumbled. I had a blast. What made the evening more memorable was the atmosphere. The dance lessons were held at this fairly large restaurant in front of the ocean with the beach and the crashing waves. What is more: it rained. From the distance we could hear the thunder rolling and see the lightning flash. Awesome.

Thursday, I went dress shopping with a friend who is planning on having her wedding here. Well, that was interesting. I think the Africans like a little flair to their weddings. They like the big poufy dresses, the large hats, the numerous colors. My friend – not so much. We went into three different shops. The first were wedding planners. We shall see on them. The next was a shop where the ladies told my friend all she would need for a good wedding (the big hats, the gloves, and the poufy dresses). They also led us to a dress shop with a few good dresses in it (come all the way from David’s Bridal) but were too expensive. Strangely, because of all the NGO’s the land of Sierra Leone is not all that cheep. We shall see what actually happens on my friend’s wedding.

The third time I went out is not a big deal, so I will keep you from being bored over that. But on Tuesday, a group of us, went up to deck eight and had worship. We watched the sun set and the lightning come in. I could definitely feel God’s presence. Isn’t it good to be in the presence of the Lord?

Anyways, this week has been more than good. It’s been…well great.

God bless,
Heather

PS: I'll download pictures later