Culture shock, rafts and lipstick

I don't really remember that much from our long ago class devoted to culture shock and how to deal with it. But I do have a vague memory of comparing our lives to floating down a river on a raft. Our rafts are made up of various pieces of ourselves and our culture and are roped and nailed together with various other cultural experiences and skills. Sometimes the rapids come and knock us up a bit, but overall after years of experience, trial and error, we find ourselves on a decent raft that suits our needs pretty well on the river of life.

Then, if you are really lucky, you enter into a new culture with widely different expectations and assumptions. What happens to your nicely crafted raft? It pretty much sails right off the top of a waterfall to burst apart at the bottom with pounds of water beating down on top of the pieces. Dramatic, huh?

The human spirit being what it is, and God's presence encouraging you on... the raft gets slowly, painstakingly re-built with new pieces and tied together in unthought of ways. And if not perfect, at least passably usable to keep afloat in this new situation. The rapids continue to come and you do get used to frequent dunkings and clamborings to get back up. About the time your raft is looking cool and stable, it is time to return. Over yet another waterfall...

Quite an introduction to my main point which is today make-up and general skin care.

What? Yes, seriously. In Uganda, it was a good day if I managed to shower, brush my teeth and glance in the mirror. While Kev and I liked to have regular "date nights" both in Bundibugyo and in Kampala, mostly, this meant nice food and some dedicated time spent on my appearance (10 minutes tops), before an evening devoted to reconnecting... to paying attention to each other. Despite my sister's dire warnings I wore not one lick of sunscreen the whole time. Perhaps a bit on my nose if we were on vacations, but beyond that nada. Believe me this was a big mistake. Facial cleanser? You've got to be kidding. And most make-up just did the humidity slide right off my face whenever I tried. So here I stand at the ripe age of 37, staring at a face that has seen kinder days armed with nothing but a 10th grade understanding of skin-care. Which was just about the same time I put on make-up on a regular basis. Let us just say that while fashion does come around in circles, the bright blue eye-shadow that I once sported will not. What's a girl to do? Let's not even devote ourselves to the theological questions surrounding application of make-up, lotions, recovery gels and the time or money devoted to personal vanity and appearance.
But yes, if I'm being brutally honest, which I know is one of my weaknesses, I have to admit that I like the way I look with make-up on AND I also like when my face is free of blemishes and red itchy dry spots. So here I am at the bottom of the waterfall and there is not one piece of my Ugandan survival raft that is of any use.

The flylady has been immensely useful in organizing and cleaning (I'll save that line of thought for another day) but for skin care and make-up tips I have learned to trust the cosmetics cop. My new cyber friend (although she hasn't a clue I exist) is Paula Begoun. My neice Christina, another skin-care diva, introduced me to Paula's book "Don't Go To the Cosmetics Counter Without Me" and I have been relying on her information ever since. Paula's website... found right there on the side bar has handy free advice on most products (cleansers, lotions and make-up) as well as step by step videos for the clueless, like me. Just go to the LEARN tab on the main page. She has a team of researchers that test and report on most of the beauty products for a given year (hence the "cop") and fill you, the average customer, in on which products actually do what they say they will and which are a bunch of overpriced crapola. In my 2 months of trial and error, she has steered me true every time. I'm still learning and experimenting. Mostly indulging in a little bit of peace in the bathroom while small children pull on my shirt trying desperately to rope me into solving their problems. Which are my current favorite products? This post is already too long, so that'll be next.

A MK's look at being sick

So Joe's been down with a flu-like sickness this week. Evidently it is flying around the middle school and on Friday he was in bed with fever, cough and sore throat. He's been miserable for the last few days. He wants to eat then gets full after a few bites... then throws up. His head hurts and he alternates chills with fever. Not fun. In response we have been pushing fluids, popsicles, ibuprofen and encouraging tons of time on the sofa watching Netflix instant play movies or TV shows. It is evidently a virus of some sort. And of course, being in America right now, the ever present question... is this swine flu? Hmph. Not sure, he's recovering today so my guess is no. But in the midst of fever, achy body, and known cases both in the community and the academy, who can say for sure. When Joe moaningly questions from the sofa, I answer with a vague "Maybe, it is tricky to know." Louisa, listening from the other room FREAKS OUT. She is positive her brother will die. I calm her down with lot's of reassurance and she seems fine.

This morning on our way to violin lesson, it comes back up.

"Mom, I thought swine flu was deadly?"
"It can be. But there are lot's of things that are deadly. Even normal flu can be deadly."
Lot's of silence.......
"Hmmm, well is it like Malaria then?"
"A bit. You can die from malaria and lot's of people do, but also you can recover from malaria."
"I almost died from malaria."
"Yes. "
"I turned blue."
"Yes."
"But then I got better and everybody who gets malaria doesn't die."
"Right."
Lot's of silence....
"Oh. So swine flu is a little bit like malaria, right? WHEW! I thought it was like Ebola."

Candy Tickets

Too cute.

Facebook

The thing I love about blogs is the opportunity for long or at least some what long and introspective entries. It can border, I admit, on inspecting your navel and then broadcasting for all the world to hear. But in general, I like the feeling that I can cast my thoughts out into the internet wind and perhaps someone, somewhere gets a chuckle or too.

When I was little, perhaps 3, my mother made a bunny shaped birthday cake for me. My birthday flits around the Easter holiday and that year it was probably a bit close and viola a beautiful shaped cake. Since my sister and I are only 16 months apart, I am sure the said cake was not an easy task and when it was finished and iced Mom sat it in the middle of the dining room table and went upstairs to get me. I am sure I was so excited to bounce down the stairs and see the cake just for me and in the shape of a bunny no less. Instead as the table came into view there was my little sister. She had managed to climb on top of the table and was throwing junks of my now decimated cake at us. Tory was laughing, I burst into tears and my mom dashed for the camera. Her presence of mind is amazing, but it was also that need to record, to share what I am sure was not extremely funny at the time, rather than lose her cool. Of course, as the years pass it is one of our favorite family stories, fueled by that very picture of a grinning toddler with her hands full of cake. The emotion that could have been very negative flipped on its head to be something positive and funny.

I guess my blogs are a bit like that. In the past they have been attempts to squeeze the laughter out when we could of our time in Bundibugyo. To process out loud our furlough time in Durham, to plead for prayer this summer for Kev. A sense of connection and remembrance. As we continue to re-acclimate to the US and now to New England, the need to blog has decreased and my posts are sporadic. And now I have become newly attached to Facebook. Which promises connection with minimal effort. Not quite sure how I feel about it, except that it is cool to be able to keep in touch with lot's of people, to glimpse into their lives if only at the surface level. To share random thoughts and quick snapshots with friends both old and new. It feels a bit like the American definition of community. Ha! Now I know I'm going through culture shock.

Weather

It had never occured to me how tied my view of color and temperature are. Weather, yes, in a broad sense. In BGO when everything was brown and dusty it was usually very hot and dry, and when everything was green and lush it was usually rainy and wet. In North Carolina, three seasons out of the year are reasonably green and warm. Summer is hot and muggy, but the skies are bright and the trees are green. By the time winter rolls around... and by winter I mean temperatures in the 50's, the trees are bare, the sky is gray, even the grass is bit dull. You can see your breath and you know it is just freezing weather! Perhaps a dusting of snow might be in the forecast.
Here in Exeter, it has been in the 50's on and off for a couple of weeks. It is very confusing as this started in September. The trees are still mostly green, the sky is a brilliant shade of blue and many folks are still running around in shorts. I am cold, but in a brisk sort of way. The brightness of the sky and the warmth of color all around seem to taunt a Southerner like myself. As if to say, "this isn't cold... this is refreshing!" Ha. I'm not fooled. Everyone that hears me open my mouth wonders where I am from and then looks sympathetically when I annouce we just moved from NC. "Just wait." they say. I murmur something about dressing appropriately. They respond "Yes, layers." or "learn to appreciate the outside winter sports." Hmmmm. I think to myself. My guess is I am about to see and experience more snow this winter than I have in 37 years of living. It will be fun. It will be fun. It will be fun. It will be fun. It will be fun.

Ikea

Fortunately for us, Kev's sister and brother-in-law arrived just minutes after the movers pulled up. I LOVE Ikea furniture but the concept of "some assembly required" is definitely a bit of an understatement. At one point Dave looked up at me and said, "Did that box really say 31 of 72? Tell me we don't have 72 boxes of furniture to put together." I sheepishly shrugged and said something lame like, "We did move from Africa." We were extremely grateful for the furniture that our home church pulled together for us prior to our arrival in Durham. But as we made plans to move here, we decided it was time to bless other folks in need with much of what we had been given and invest in some furniture that we thought was both beautiful and functional. Furniture that well... matched. There was very little discussion about where to go to buy such furniture. Ikea draws forth such an emotional response from both of us. When we were first in Uganda and evacuating in and out of Fort Portal due to rebel warfare, our place of refuge and safety was a former Swedish missionary compound. All of the houses there felt beautiful and safe. They were well but simply decorated with various Ikea pieces that were likely easy to ship to such a remote location. So when we considered how to furnish our new home here in Exeter, we were drawn to a similiar style. Beautiful, yet simple. Ikea.
Of course, that was before it occurred to me that when we arrived at Kahunga Bunyoni all of the furniture was already assembled. As we stared at the 72 boxes with screwdrivers and allen wrenches in hand, I began to think that maybe, just maybe, we should have bought furniture from Craig's List or Rooms to Go. Something that perhaps might not invoke the "safe" memories but would arrive...well...together.
Dave and Janis worked tirelessly for days putting together tables and chairs, sofas and beds, dressers and wardrobes. As my family would say they worked from "can to can't." (From when the sun comes up and you can see until it goes down again and you can't see anymore.) I did think the queen size box spring might be the straw that broke the camel's back... imagine having to assemble 150 different 1 inch by 20 something inch slats into rubber pieces that first must also be attached to various wood pieces that form a frame of sorts. We won't even mention the need to assemble and adjust the 25 or so center piece double slats to reflect a hard or soft bed preference. Of course, now fully assembled it IS the most comfortable bed I have ever slept on...
All of this to say, we love our Ikea furniture and we love Janis and Dave.
And while the house is still not fully unpacked, the kids are all happily attending school, Kev is teaching, our internet/phone/cable services are hooked up and the whole family has been to see both dentist and doctor. So for all intents and purposes we are settled here in Exeter. It is a lovely place to live. And did I mention the Ikea store that is just outside of Boston? It is a decent drive, about an hour or so away. But Nate is thrilled that we have to go through a complicated underpass, over a high cool looking bridge and through a long tunnel to get there. Anything to please the kids...

Welcome PEA Students

Introducing Kevin Bartkovich to any PEA students or parents clever enough to find our blog, here's a favorite YouTube video illustrating the need for further math instruction.