For those who knew me from childhood up to about age 20, what follows will utterly amaze you. In fact, it may even belong to the category of things the Lord does that "you would not believe, even if you were told."
I'm kidding. But only a little.
For those of you who did not know me as a child, I grew up with a pathological fear of dirt, bugs, and anything creepy-crawly. Pathological is not an overstatement, my parents would be quick to assure you. Once I had a panic attack when a bug flew in the open window of the car and I couldn't get it out (and if I recall, nearly caused my dad to have an accident with all the commotion). I became hysterical after a Magic School Bus episode opened my eyes to the disturbing fact that bacteria is everywhere-- you can run, but you can't hide. And the first time I went to church camp, I almost cried because because I couldn't find anything to sit on that wasn't dirty.
And look where I am now. God has such a sense of humor.
If someone had told me ten years ago that I would spend almost two weeks in the African bush, with no electricity, no running water, pumping my bathwater from a well into a 20 L bucket, and using a "squatty potty" inhabited by bats, I would have said you were crazy.
Yes, bats.
Let's start there.
I was warned by Kayla from day one that there were bats living in the toilet. Only when she said toilet, I heard "restroom facility." Like maybe they were living up in the ceiling somewhere.
Nope. When she said toilet, she meant toilet. Hearing them screeching and flying around down underground was pretty terrifying, but praise the Lord I never came face-to-face with one of them.
My friend Jennilee wasn't so lucky.
Shower
After completing the lengthy process of pumping, hauling, and heating bathwater, she went to pour it into the shower (basically a bucket on a pulley). But lo and behold, when she lowered the shower bucket… there was a bat inside. Alive.
At least it wasn't a tarantula or spitting cobra… oh wait… we found those too.
But nothing compares in my mind to what the participants experienced in their homestays. They spent the weekend with Zambian families in the village. At least two of the missionary families found they were not alone in their mud huts. Imagine waking up in the night to screeching and pitter-pattering of little feet… looking up and seeing several rats climbing up the outside of your mosquito net. Both families who had this experience have stories of epic duels with the rats over the course of their three night stay, but those stories are theirs to tell. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.
I am SO thankful to have been spared from sleeping with rats. But camping in the bush was an adventure nonetheless. At first I was just kind of in survival mode. It took twice as long for me to do simple tasks like washing my hair or getting drinking water. But then I started to learn. I learned that it actually IS easier to carry a full bucket of water on your head than letting it hang from your arm. I learned to light my kerosene lantern before the sun went down and made the task impossible.
Pumping water
Heating water
Hauling water
It amazes me when I think of how everyone lived this way only a couple hundred years ago. It was just daily life. Hard, hard, work.
And yet it's also amazing the simple pleasures we can find here that we might miss otherwise. Like, appreciating the vast diversity of insects (it amazes me how the Lord has transformed me because the crickets that once gave me panic attacks are now placed in my hands by my students and I just smile and nod).
Or the simple pleasure of music. I will never forget these nights, even after months or years away from Africa. Sitting around a smoky charcoal fire, singing with the Zambian staff. Irene's fierce, plaintive voice piercing the night air, accompanied by the mens' husky baritone harmonies. Mwaka dancing with feigned shyness, and all the girls cheering her on. And I, with my chin to the sky, taking in the dazzling, dizzying stars that cannot possibly be counted.
Oh, the stars.
It seems almost irreverent, I stand on my straw mat brushing my teeth and gazing heavenward, nothing in sight but trees and stars. In this moment, the sacred and mundane meet. How can anyone not believe in a Creator? Somehow I think this is how it's supposed to be-- an awareness of God that cannot be ignored.
Here in the midst of all this untamed beauty, it's possible to forget everything else. The superfluity that technology has brought to our lives. The stress of time and schedules, because we rise at dawn and welcome sleep soon after sunset.
This life is beautiful.
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