When the Spirit Moves, Buy Those Shoes

I think I mentioned I pretty much wore out the cute little ballerina skips I bought for this journey in Malawi. I was thinking I'd be in the city for the most part. And, for the most part, I was. But when I wasn't actually in the city, I was walking pretty dusty and rocky roads. The shoes were quite lovely and very thin soled. Alas. They looked quite stylish with my long cotton skirts.

Something told me, though, that those thin soles were not going to make it much further, so I went shoe hunting during my 5 hour layover in Johannesburg. I ended up with something not nearly as chic, but certainly a lot more serviceable. They ended up being Crocs! They look like suede Mary Janes. That strap across the instep was an excellent idea. Being Crocs, there was no way I would get a "perfect" fit, but they did the trick, except for those moments when my foot twisted out of them because they are just a tad large.

I still don't like looking at them.

The first day in Ghana we went to the market in Accra. It was a lot like the market in Lilongwe -- only a LOT bigger. Around the perimeter of the market the shops and pathways are a normal size, but as you get into the market, the pathways narrow and the shops get smaller and closer together. Emmanuel had some errands to run, so I got to see the market up close and personal.

Everywhere we went the folks were gracious and kind. A couple of times Emmanuel left me at a shop while he went in search of whatever it was he was in search of. The people went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. Akkwaba! means "welcome" in Twi. I was very much akkwaba everywhere I went.

At one point Emmanuel was purchasing women's underwear to bring to his girlfriend, Charlotte's, mother in Cape Coast. Charlotte's mom has a store and she would resell the merchandise. The underwear booth we went to wasn't much bigger than a postage stamp. We went behind the counter and I sat on the only chair while Emmanuel negotiated his transaction.

Clearly modern marketing concepts haven't escaped the folks in Accra. Although the shop sold both men's and women's undergarments, they "got it" that women do most of the buying. There I sat surrounded by shelves and shelves of underwear boxes sporting rows of six-pack-abs men modeling their product.

I got to see a lot of those shoes while I was waiting.

As we walked deeper into the market the pathways narrowed. I'd say they were no more than three feet wide with hordes of people going both ways. I'd often have to step into a shop as someone with a more-than-3 ft. wide bundle on their head passed me by. Negotiating market streets was a challenge, to say the least.

Emmanuel had quite a few things to purchase, and his bundles were getting to be burdensome. As we were leaving the market, he engaged the services of a porter -- a young woman with a very large pan on her head. We piled all the bundles into the pan and for, quite literally, the equivalent of a few cents, she followed us to the car, carrying the bundles. I can think of times when I would like to have such a service!

That being said, a lot of the porters are very young and look to me like they should have been in school. It is a very hard life -- all day long carrying other people's good for pennies.

I wish I had taken a picture.

(This last market picture comes from http://search.creativecommons.org/ Uploaded on August 28, 2007 by Sara&Joachim) I tried uploading it using the blogspot facility so proper attribution would be made, but it didn't work.)

Welcome to Accra!

Arrived in Ghana without much of a hitch on July 9th.

The internet connection in Ghana was wonky, to say the least. It would start out at 54 Mbs and the connection fluctuated between 8 and 25 Mbs thereafter. I think the little men carrying the letters across the wire were on sietsa most of the time.

Our flight arrived a little early and I whizzed through customs. I walked outside and it took my breath away. Not that I could see anything -- it was almost 10 p.m. It was almost 80 degrees and huuuuuuummmmmmmiddddddd. After sleeping in socks in Lilongwe, this was definitely a change. I knew it would be hotter in Accra. I just missed the part about it being the rainy season.

Arriving early definitely has its disadvantages. When I arrived in South Africa my ride wasn't there. When I arrived in Accra my ride wasn't there. In another story you'll find out when I arrived early in Rome my ride wasn't there either. The only time it is a bonus to arrive early is when you have your own car at the airport or you're grabbing a taxi.

After a few phone calls Emmanuel arrived. My hero! We loaded into the car and set off for the Evita Hotel in Kaneshi. After I got situated we agreed we would set out the next day at 10:30 a.m.

The first thing you I noticed driving around Accra is the roads. Around the airport everything seems normal, but it is not long before you feel like you're on a roller coaster. Here we were in the capital city, and most of it has dirt roads! Dirt Roads + Rainy Season = potential disaster. The potholes are not to be believed. The best driving strategy can only be described as bobbing and weaving. At any given time you find yourself on any side of the road trying to avoid potential sink holes!

Of course, it doesn't really seem to matter which side of the road you're on in Accra. There don't seem to be any traffic rules once you get outside the paved areas. There are no lights -- or if there are, they don't usually work. There are no street signs, except for one or two stop signs everyone ignores. The only rule seems to be: only the boldest advance. These folks would put any NY taxi driver to shame. I think the method is to make no eye contact, pretend the other guy isn't on the road and keep going. The theory is the other guy will stop and you can move forward.

Another thing you notice immediately are the number of overtly religious references stenciled on the backs of mini-buses, taxis and business establishments. For example: would you have your nails done in a place called "In the Lord's Time Nail doctor"? I wonder what it means to make an appointment in that place. We passed a clothing store called, "Christ in All, the Hope of Glory Fashions." Would you eat in an establishment called, "Put Your Trust in God Chop Bar"? How about having your hair cut at "Hands for Christ Barbering"? Could be an exceptional haircut! When we were at Shoprite Supermarket, they played Christian praise music. It is quite a change from the American scene.

Putting the roads and references together, Emmanuel told me a joke about a cab driver who had "See What the Lord Has Done for Me" stenciled on the back of his taxi. One day he was driving around Accra and he attempted to drive through a pothole filled with water, thinking it was just a puddle. The pothole turned out to be a sink hole and his taxi went nose down into the abyss. The only thing anyone could see was the back window.

Welcome to Accra!

Half Way to Ghana on July 9th

Thanks to Sandy, I had a sense of what might come up at the airport in Lilongwe. All-in-all things went pretty well. Before boarding the bus to the plane we were required to identify our bags so they could be put on the plane. When the guy came to tell me to identify my bag I couldn't understand a word he said, but he was motioning toward the door and I figured it out.

As we were preparing to board the plane, the woman who checked me in in the first place told me my carry-on was too big and could not be taken on the plane. She was not happy with me. I was not happy with her.

Given the number of people boarding (there were 6 of us) I couldn't figure out what the problem was -- and I was beginning to think we were going to be on the prop plane I was staring at with much trepidation. I didn't see the 737 a way down the tarmac. The woman kept insisting the flight was very full and there was no room for my bag. I thought, she was out of her mind.

Turns out the flight originated somewhere else. It was full everywhere -- except in business class. Here's another international "language": Put your suitcase in the first available bin, regardless of where you are sitting.

The woman tagged the bag -- wanting to tag it all the way to Accra. I insisted I would claim it in South Africa -- which, of course,, meant I would have to do that exit-customs-check in-security thing when we arrived in South Africa. They don't do the "curbside" thing like they do in the US where, if they take your bag because there's no room, you pick it up plane-side when you arrive at your destination. Grrrr.

When I boarded the plane I spoke to the stewardess (do we call them that any more?) and I am sure was looking pretty darned miserable, I am sure. I didn't get my "New York on," though. I was very nice and said I couldn't understand because I knew it would fit in the bin.

Then I went to sit in my seat and someone was in it. "So sorry." I sat next to her.
The next thing I knew the stewardess came up with my bag in her hand. turns out there were only 5 people in Business Class -- 16 seats. She put the suitcase in front of the window seat behind me and said I could go back and sit with the bag.
I was majorly relieved and astounded. I could not imagine that happening on a US airline -- a fairly heavy bag just out there on the floor. I took my bag attachment loop, put it in the handle and attached it to the buckled seat belt and pulled it very tight. I figured if anything happened the only person to get hit would be me.

When we arrived in SA the pilot pulled up to the gate -- but not all the way. Everyone was getting out of their seats. I figured they knew something I didn't, so I got up too. The next thing you know the plane starts moving to get into position. Nobody said anything. I can just hear the US folks screaming "the plane will not move until everyone is sitting down."

Then the chief stewardess advised people that they might want to sit because we had to move to a new gate. I'd say 10% of the people sat back down. The plane repositioned with most of the people standing and the overhead bins wide open.
I'm telling you. Flying in the air is the easy part of getting around.

When I arrived in South Africa I did a survey of the airport shops. Sandy is right. They are VERY interesting. I spent quite a bit of time in "out of Africa." I ended up buying a pair of Crocs at another shop. They're kind of cute in that ugly Crocs sort of way. They're Mary Janes that have a sueded look. They have a bit more padding than the cute little black skips I was wearing in Malawi. I got to thinking that if I end up in the villages, those shoes wouldn't make it through the week. As comfortable as they are, there is not a lot of padding between the soles of my feet and the uneven terrain. Don't ask me what I was thinking when I wore them to Lilongwe. I think I thought I was going to be spending my time in the city. Silly me!

They didn't have the black in my size so I ended up getting the "chocolate" pair. It's a taupy kind of chocolate. I just won't look at my feet.

So, who knew . . .

Tea doesn’t come off the vines in mesh bags with little strings? Did I know there were acres and acres of beautiful green leaves on bushes almost shoulder high that yield the leaves in those little bags? Did I have any idea how the leaves are gathered (by hand) by people with baskets on their backs? They go through the rows of tea, pick the leaves and throw them over their shoulders into these rather huge baskets. The leaves are then brought to a facility where they are dried. Then they are crushed. Then they are sifted. Seems there are other similes for God’s refining fire.

Eventually they make their way into those little mesh bags with strings that we know and love. I never was much of a tea drinker until I met my good friend, Kathryn Jackson. She taught me tea was served best in a thin cup – a lesson she learned from her mother, Mrs. Grady. Since Ms. Kathryn is 90, I figure her mother musta known something we don’t in the 21st century.

On Saturday, July 4th, the MacFarlan clan and I headed down to Blantyre for the celebration of the 45th anniversary of Malawi independence. For Maitland it was somewhat of a command performance, although I am sure he was honored to be invited and part of the celebration. Sandy, Moses, Miriam and I were privileged to go along for the ride – although we didn’t attend the actual celebration.

While Maitland was in the stadium waiting for the President (who came on time), Sandy, the children and I went on an excursion to the border of Mozambique. I would have loved to have put my toe on the edge, but we didn’t know what the visa requirements were. The Malawi folks were ready to let us through, but not knowing the requirements, we didn’t know if the Mozambique folks would let us back into Malawi, so we didn’t go. I’ve got a picture of Mozambique from the Malawi side. That counts for something.

Our journey took us through the most incredible scenery. In particular, we went through two market places that reminded me of the pictures we used to see of Soweto back before South African liberation. Rows of wooden shanties packed together lining dirt streets. I do not have pictures. Perhaps I am just chicken, but it seemed to me to be disrespectful to be out there taking pictures of normal people living normal lives without their permission, and I just wasn’t sure how to negotiate that. I will attempt a word picture, but it will be woefully inadequate.
On both sides of the road were wooden “lean-tos” that were store fronts. They looked rather like Fisher Price children’s play store fronts – only they were larger, made of wood and not nearly as sturdy. They seemed to lean into one another from side to side. If the one on the end collapsed, it looked like they would all go down like a stack of dominoes.

All kinds of goods were being sold: food (tomatoes, potatoes, cassava, cabbage, bananas, pineapples—you name it); blankets (made in Mozambique), enamel ware (remember those old enamel dish sets? That’s the kind of stuff being sold.), all kinds of tin items, fabric for dresses and chitenji. My eyes could barely take in the variety of items offered at these markets. On each side there were cross streets leading up to the main road, each of which had similar establishments.
There were people everywhere – and they all knew pedestrians had the right-of-way. If we drove through these market areas at 5 mph we were making good time. Hats off to Aaron, our driver, who made it though without running over any toes or destroying any bicycles (or the people on them!)! Aaron is a very good, very serious driver who is able to negotiate Malawi’s roads with great aplomb. All of the highways, it seems, are two lane, so there’s a fair amount of passing slow trucks and even slower bicycles laden with amazingly heavy loads. I think in one of my posts I mentioned the bikes being stacked with 50lb sacks of maize flour or other grain. That was a mistake. The bags are 50 KILOS! Twice the weight I imagined – and sometimes there are two and three bags stacked on the back of the bike.

And, of course, wherever you drive and whenever you pass, you have to be aware of people walking – women, young and old, with heavy buckets of water or bundles of goods on their heads; men carrying heavy loads and/or passengers on their bikes – often a woman with a baby on her back (and sometimes another child in her lap!). You have to be aware of the children walking to or from school – horsing around as young children will when set free! You have to be aware of the goats – are they going to cross the road or not? And, of course, there are the never ending potholes – some of which I am sure are sink-holes. Needless to say, there is a big push to get home before dark because none of the streets are illuminated – adding a good deal of mystery and adventure to the sojourn.

Yep. Hats off to and prayers for Aaron! (and for Sandy and Maitland who do their own driving when there is no official business going on.
There really was no way to take pictures of this incredible experience, but it is one I never will forget. It is a graphic mixture of abject poverty (by U.S. standards) and prosperity and entrepreneurship.

Chitenji: I have no idea if the spelling on this is correct. It is pronounced Chǐ-teń-jē. The cloth is two meters of 36” cloth a woman wraps around her waist to make a skirt. It is used as a kind of apron, e.g., when we went to the Ministry of Hope to spend time with the babies, we put on chitenji over our skirts for “protection.” That being said, observing the women walking along the road, I couldn’t tell if they had skirts on underneath, but Sandy assures me they do. I bought for a Chitenji the fabric that was designed for the 45th anniversary of Malawi independence. I have no idea when or where I would wear it, but it seemed like the historic thing to do. (I also acquired other fabric for a dress. Love those African prints!)

On the way home from Blantyre we stopped at Mua Mission. Mua is a Catholic mission started by a French priest at the end of the 19th century. Those who began the mission were beset with disease and distressed by inter-tribal warfare, and they left. They returned in the really early 20th century, established a mission and within 20 years established a seminary. The first African Bishop of Malawi was trained at Mua. Pretty cool.

We wanted the short tour. (The full tour takes 2-4 hours, depending on the amount of detail you receive.) We got there just before lunch time, which insured the snappy presentation. Our guide was quite engaging. He began his talk by pointing to a picture of Dr. David Livingston who is credited with bringing Christianity to Africa. Then he proceeded to say: “we don’t talk too much about him because we are Catholic.” I thought that sadly funny.

We were whisked through three “huts,” (they were shaped and decorated like grass huts, but were solidly constructed since the huts constitute the museum.) The museum huts revolved around a concrete Baobob tree. The first hut detailed the history of the Mission. The Mission was started by three priests who, when they arrived, pitched three tends around a Baobob tree. Hence, the configuration of the museum. I’ve got a few pictures from the first hut.

The second and third huts dealt with the life of the indigenous cultures of the area. The agreement the Mission made with the local chiefs was that no pictures could be taken in the last two rooms of the museum out of respect of the culture. I understand it, but what a loss! It was amazing to see.

Part of what the museum deals with is how the Roman Catholic Church was able to incorporate elements of cultural norms into its teaching and worship. I would have loved to have had more time wrestling with that. Of course, it is clear there are many aspects of the culture the roman Church rejected. I am sure there are good theological reasons for this, but on the face, the stuff was just plain scary! Yikes! To put it mildly! Someday I’ll get into it. I don’t know what kind of web site they have, and I don’t have internet access where I am staying now, but I’ll keep you posted.

I was sorry to leave Sandy and Malawi. There is still so much to see and absorb and it was so much fun to have Sandy, who has been in Malawi for about 1-1/2 years, as a guide and fellow traveler.

On Thursday I was off to Ghana, where I am right now. In Lilongwe it is winter and quite cold – colder than I imagined it would be. This is Ghana’s rainy season. I got off the plane at about 9:15 p.m. and felt like I had landed in Miami right after a thunder storm. It took my breath away. Temperature was in the mid 70s with humidity that made my keratin-treated hair begin to fuzz. Not quite the bozo fuzz, but it will be another week before I can claim my sleek and sophisticated look again.

Lunch with Friends

This morning we went to church at the church of St. Michael and All Angels in Blantyre. The church itself is a National Monument, built by Scottish Presbyterian missionaries in 1891. It is quite an impressive building. Did I think to bring my camera to church? NOT! Ugh. However, I someone else did and posted the picture on the web. (Phew) http://www.panoramio.com/photo/9619171

We went to the 8:30 English service which was a 'quickie' -- only two hours. They had all the visitors come up front for introductions. (And here we are reluctant to wear a red ribbon to coffee hour. . .)

I really liked what the Pastor did with the children's time. I don't particularly remember the content, but they children took their own offering, and then one of the older children (say 9 or 10) gave the prayer of dedication. I was very impressed.

I am always impressed with the ease with which my African brothers and sisters pray in front of the congregation. Now I see why. They are trained early. I'm always amused at how reluctant some of us are to pray aloud in front of other people. (That includes me.) There we sit, a room full of clergy no less and someone says, "who'll pray," and nobody responds. Eventually the prayer gets said, but there's a lot of foot gazing between the question and response.

Anyway . . . for lunch we went to the top of Zomba Mountain. The mountain rises 7,000 ft. We were pretty far up there.

We ate at the buffet at Sunbird Ku Chawe Inn. Fortunately the weather warmed up and we ate outside. I had my first taste of Chambo, the National fish. Ummm. It takes just like fish. The most amuzing part of the lunch were the monkeys. They were everywhere. If a couple abandoned their table for the buffet, anything left on the table was fair game. It was a hoot. The hotel actually has a guy with a sling shot on staff to chase them away. They're not phased in the least. Sling-shot guy turns his attention to another task and the monkeys are back at it. These monkeys just sit and wait to pounce. They're not shy at all!

On the way back from lunch we stopped at Williams Falls. Let's just say I was happier on the drive back since we were on the side closest to the mountain. The scenery was beautiful; the drops were STEEP! I'm not particulary afraid of heights, but his was a bit much -- particularly right after lunch.


Sandy on Mt. Zomba

Scenery from Mt. Zomba


Williams Falls

Lions and Tigers and Bears . . .

Well, not quite. But there is lots of other wildlife to see at Mvuu Camp and Wilderness Lodge. http://www.eyesonafrica.net/african-safari-malawi/mvuu.htm

On Wednesday, July 1st, Sandy, Moses, Miriam and I took off for the Mvuu camp to do a mini-safari. Little did I know it would be a nearly 5 hour drive -- some of which was on a winding, very pitted (and deeply gouged in some places), dirt road that went through several villages. Clearly some of the villages are benefiting from renewal projects. The village 'streets' were well compacted dirt and the homes were quite elegant, given some of the villages we have seen. The roofs were thatched, though. Not many tin roofs. That being said, you can tell there was a degree of prosperity operating here.

I've learned that a tin roof costs about $350 for a typical two-room home. Seems like a pittance, but it is well out of reach for many of the villagers whose annual income may be below US$200 a year. Even thatched roofs can be pricey for some. I can't tell you the number of homes we see that look completely built, but people can't move in because they have no roof. Bricks, it seems are fairly cheap, or they can be "home made," but the materials for a roof need to be purchased.

It took about 45 minutes travel about 15 Km (roughly 9 miles). Sandy did a remarkable job keeping the axle intact.

We arrived at Mvuu just in time for lunch. We got all settled with Moses and Miriam in their high chairs. As we waited, Sandy turned toward Miriam who was sitting next to her, and the next thing you know a vervet monkey hopped over the stone wall and grabbed one of the pieces of bread off Sandy's plate! The monkey looked up and Sandy, took a quick second thought and grabbed the second piece as well before scurrying over the wall.

Most of the buildings at Mvuu have stone walls with canvas, tent-type tops. The chalets (where we slept) have mesh windows. The dining hall is completely open all around -- an open invitation to monkeys and birds, it would seem.

After lunch we had time to relax before heading off on our land safari. Along with another family we piled into a jeep and began our sojourn. Our guide Julius was very knowledgeable, and he was the first of the guides to find the elephants that day. Oh my! What a sight.

It turns out elephants are pretty destructive creatures. The villagers and not particularly thrilled to have them roaming free. If they can't find a path to where they would like to go, they just make their own, trampling grown trees and anything else in their way. I didn't know elephants ate the bark off trees. I know it now. I have no idea how they do it, but they must have a way of grabbing it with their snout and stripping the tree bare. Wallpaper should come off that easily.

Elephants, it seems, are pretty civilized warriors. Two elephants were competing for the top of mound of shrubbery. One elephant took off and the other was left standing, King of the Hill. Our guide, Julius, told us that when elephants fight and one walks away, that is the end of the fight. Hippos, on the other hand are not so kind. According to Julius, when hippos get into a contest, they fight to the death. If one runs away, the other will pursue him (or her) until the deed is done. So much for the happy hippo theory. Hmmm. I wonder what Presbytery they belong to.

Mvuu means hippo in the local language, Chechwa. The camp is named Mvuu for good reason. We saw more mvuu than anything else but we did see many other animals: waterbucks, antelope, impalas. We saw a porcupine who was not the least bit amused by the attention. His (or her) quills stood right up when s/he realized we were in the neighborhood. We saw mongoose (mongeese?) and a great assortment of birds, most of which were lost on me. They have something like a gazillion species. It's a bird lovers' paradise.

The next day we had a short boat safari where we saw more -- y0u guessed it -- hippos. Hippos are nocturnal animals (who knew?), so there were whole families sleeping in the water, none to happy for the disturbance, I am sure.

Oh! The bonus is we saw crocodile! Apparently they don't come out when the weather is cool, but we managed to spot a few (good ole' Julius!). I'd upload the picture, but even I'm having a hard time picking them out from between the reeds.

All-in-all it was a great trip and I'm really glad Sandy was willing to make the trek. It is not easy doing these long drives on the roads here -- with two year old twins in tow! Sandy is an amazingly strong woman.

And it is officially confirmed. I am a city girl. I love being in God's great wide creation -- for short periods of time. In the immortal words of my dear friend, Stephany Crosby, "I don't do camping very well any more," and you could hardly consider what we did "camping."

That being said, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Anyone up for lions and tigers :-)

Catching Up In Malawi

This is posted in reverse chronological order. If you're like me -- one of those compulsive types who likes to have things in (decently and in) order, skip down to June 28th and read up! :-)

Tuesday, June 30

Some Thoughts on Orphanages

Today I visited a second orphanage. The first week I was here I visited the Ministry of Hope – the Orphanage where Katie and Sandy found Miriam and Moses. This orphanage is smallish. They have mostly babies – but some of the children are approaching the 24 month mark. All of the children crave attention and it is so hard not to be able to give them what they need.

We tend to think of orphans as children who have no parents. Here in Malawi – as in many other countries of the world – it is possible to have one parent and be considered an orphan. Many of the children's mothers died in, or soon after, childbirth and the fathers were unable to care for them. The children are brought to the Ministry of hope – often very ill, often malnourished – where they are cared for until they are strong enough to return to their village.

The Ministry of Hope is clean, but crowded. The women work tirelessly to keep the children clean and fed and to give them the love and attention they can. Volunteers come in irregularly to hold the babies and play with the older children.

Sandy told a story of how one day one of Madonna’s representatives came into the Ministry. She proceeded to criticize everything about the place and everyone in it. She had one of the women take the pajamas off a couple of the children and a professional photographer took pictures. Apparently these pictures are being used to for Madonna’s Malawian projects – but none of the money goes to the Ministry of Hope.

Grrrrrr.

Today I went with Sandy’s friend, Catherine, to St. Teresa’s Orphanage. This establishment had mostly babies and toddlers; but, they had older children as well -- about 80 children total. The oldest there was a young woman of 16. The older children help with the younger and it is heartwarming to witness the love and devotion they have for their younger “siblings.”

As is the case at the Ministry of Hope, many of the children are brought in because their mothers have died. Many are very ill and malnourished. The Sisters at the orphanage and the women feed and care for and love them back to health. When they are strong enough (usually around 4 years old), they are returned to their villages. From time-to-time, though, the villages do not want them – particularly in the case of multiple births.

As soon as we arrived Catherine gave a quick tour and we went to the infants’ room where I was introduced to two surviving girl triplets. Catherine said their mother died in childbirth who were born, apparently, very prematurely. The grandmother stayed with the infants and did what she could, but she just couldn’t cope. One of the girls died. When the two remaining girls were brought to the ministry of hope, the smaller of the two almost didn’t make it. They are now six-months old and “flourishing” as well as might be expected; but, even with that, they weigh less than my granddaughter, Brooke, weighed when she was born.

It is difficult to explain how your heart can simultaneously break and expand to maximum fullness at the same time. It breaks for the suffering these children have experienced and the knowledge that their lives most likely will never be easy. At the same time, I cannot help but be overwhelmed with gratitude for those who rescued these little ones, and those who tend to their needs and love and care for them. I am grateful that while their lives may be difficult by our Western standards, their futures are infinitely brighter than they were just a short time ago.

Catherine and I were at Mother Teresa’s for a little over an hour. In that time we held the babies and spent some time with the older children. It was gut wrenching to have fifteen little ones reaching and grabbing, begging to be held. Catherine sat on the floor and they climbed all over her. I think if I went back a few times I could get to that place. It was all I could do to “high-five” as many as I could, pick up few and pat and hug those closest to me. As we left I was sure one or two would remain stuck to my legs all the way back to the States.

Catherine, I believe, is a force of nature in her own right. She has started a couple of feeding programs and is helping a few folks build their houses – using the habitat, sweat equity, model. When she first came to Malawi she wasn’t sure how much she wanted to be involved. Catherine didn’t want to start something and then find herself posted elsewhere, unable to continue what she started. But, then she thought if she spent the time doing something instead of thinking about it, she would at least get something done. Catherine said we think too much about stuff instead of doing it.

I think she’s right.

Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words. St. Francis of Assisi

Monday, June 29

To Market, to Market to Buy – from among an amazing array of foods and goods.

Today we went to the Lilongwe Market – right down the block from the Lilongwe Mini-Bus Depot (a whole ‘nother story!). We picked up Sandy’s friend, Elsa, for our guide. Sandy had never been in this part of the market before. I don’t think Elsa had been there too often herself, but she was ready to lead us on the adventure.

When we entered the market we were greeted by women selling the most appealing variety of peas and dried beans. The colors alone made me want to buy some. There were several narrow alleys to choose from, so we charged (as well as you could down a four-foot wide corridor crowded with people) down the alley straight in front of us. After winding down a few more corridors we came upon the fresh vegetables. I don’t think I’d want to shop for veggies in a supermarket ever again. The market vegetables make the supermarket veggies look anemic. The carrots were big and plump. The green beans were a vibrant shade of green, the lettuce leaves were Texan sized, etc. The Lilongwe Market seemed to me to have a wider variety of produce, as well. It would take me some time, though, to work up the courage to go to the market alone.

Elsa took us to see the fish. There was a whole section where piles of fish on tables were being sold. You could buy a whole fish, but you’d have to clean it yourself. Since fish I’m accustomed to dealing with swim in fillets, I’m not sure I’d know what to do with what I saw. I’m also not sure how long that fish was out in the hot sun.

On our way to the fish we took a turn down an alley not many women traverse. It was “automotive row.” I have never seen a car engine out of the car – in rusty, unidentifiable pieces. I saw my fill of them on that trek! The automotive "department" was comprised of a series of shorter aisles with loads of men coming and going. The sellers were quite amused to see the three of us scurrying through on our way to the fish.

Just before we left we peeked behind one of the main alleys at the entrance and, lo and behold! There was a long row of women selling textiles. We took a quick peek – beautiful fabrics in vibrant colors. Unfortunately, we had to scurry home and didn’t have time for a full investigation. We’ll do that first next time.

Sunday, June 28
I Saw A Third of the Country!

It has been a while since I’ve written. So sorry. The days go fast.

On Sunday we had an excursion to Lake Malawi. Lake Malawi takes up about 1/3 of the country. Visiting the Lake seemed like something one ought to do since it’s hard to be completely out of it's neighborhood. So, we stopped by. The place we went was a little over 90 minutes away from where Sandy and Maitland live in Lilongwe.

Lake Malawi is beautiful. It was a perfect day to be at the lake – even if a bit nippy for swimming. There were a number of people in the surf, so it couldn’t have been that bad. The sun was warm and I guess that was enough.

As beautiful as the day was, it wasn’t quite clear enough to get a good sighting of Mozambique. I could barely make the land out, but there it was. So, now I can say I’ve seen three African countries. I spent the night in South Africa; I’ve visited Malawi and I got a glimpse of Mozambique. Okay. So South Africa and Mozambique don’t really count – but I can put them on my resume anyway!

On the way home we stopped at a tourist market along the Salima Road. There were a number of stalls selling carved goods of all kinds from napkin rings to elephants. Some were selling woven items made out of (I think) bamboo, like place mats and floor mats, bags to carry groceries and toys! Maitland and Sandy bought Moses a woven helicopter. It has a little bamboo ball for a front wheel and when Moses scoots it on the floor the rotor goes around and around. It’s quite sophisticated. Miriam got a jeep, complete with an engine under the bonnet and a trunk strapped to the top. I think, though, that it is not nearly as fascinating as Moses’ whirling rotators. Alas!

The scenery here is amazing. As many of you know, my appreciation for God’s creation has crept up on me late in life. I still relate best to whatever greenery spouts between concrete slabs. The scenery here is quite amazing. Rolling hills dotted with villages, and everywhere we drive, people are walking, walking walking. Many of the women are carrying obviously incredibly heavy loads on their heads. The women here have incredibly remarkable posture, and I’ve finally figured out why. You can’t balance a five gallon bucket of water on your head and slouch at the same time.

The men are frequently balancing huge piles of wood or multiple sacks of grain (easily 50 lb sacks!) or long, long stalks of sugar cane on their bikes. As they walk, they lean into the load to keep it upright and moving. I am utterly amazed and the strength and stamina of these folks. I am such a wimp.

A slouchy wimp, at that!

Alphabet Soup

Holy smokes! Where does the time go. It is already Sunday here (00:41 to be exact. I've got my Blackberry on a 24 hour clock to see if I can get the hang of it. Next thing you know I'll be working on the metric system).

The days have blurred by. Let's see. Tuesday we went to Dedza Pottery and hunted for the Nkhoma Mission. Turns out the Mission is 16 kilometers (sorry. You get to do the conversion yourself. I'm still working on the 24 hour clock) from the road, which is quite a way when you can only go five or six km an hour.

Wednesday I never made it up for the walking group. Alas! I missed some of the ladies. This is a pretty transient community. Folks are sent here for 3 or 4 years and then they're off to another assignment, or back "home" -- wherever that may be -- until the next posting. This time of year many are traveling to on summer holiday back to families and friends in far flung places (even though it is winter here).

Thursday we began to make arrangements to go to Liwonde -- one of Malawi's national parks. It's an overnight trip. We'll get there next Wednesday in time for lunch and then go on an evening boat safari where we'll see hippos and crocodiles. The next morning we will participate in a land safari when we will hopefully get to see elephants and giraffes and the like. In the meantime we will be roughing it in a family cottage with two bedrooms and mosquito nets (an important accommodation, even in winter). We also went to the Ministry of Hope -- more on that in another post.

I did manage to get to the Friday walk -- Sandy was hostess, so I made a gluten free tea cake that was essentially butter and sugar with a little self-rising flour thrown in to make it look good. The cake was surprisingly good, even though I have never been much of a baker. That's my brother, Stephen's, strong-suit. The ladies seem to like the snack. So did the ants two days later. Monday we will meet at Kathy's house for our morning stroll.

On Fiday night Richard and Monique Dictus invited a group of UN employees over for a buffet dinner. It was a farewell for Elizabeth and Dom who are returning to Rome after being posted in Malawi for 4 years. Dom is with the FAO (no, not Schwartz -- the UN's Food and Agriculture Organization. It was very kind of Monique and Richard to include me in the gathering. Maitland is with the Intermonetary Fund (IMF), which gets him on this "A" list. Although not an agency of the UN, there is a close association in what they do.

Richard Dictus is the Coordinator for the UN Development Program coordinator (UNDP) and Monique and Richard invited people representing more letters of the alphabet that I can relay here.

Present at this dinner (which was outstanding and gluten free since Monique also has gluten intolerance), were people from all over the world working in a variety of UN enterprises having to do with food, agriculture, health, childrens' health and development. It was amazing -- and it was such a privilege to sit with these people who are so passionate about making the world a better place. I got to listen in on a true global perspective on the conditions in Africa, the United States and a host of other countries, since when people were describing a particular situation, they often referred to their own points of reference in their own countries, as well as their observations of similar circumstances in other parts of the world. It was fascinating.

The conversations certainly gave me pause to consider where I get all my news and how I might be a little more diligent about knowing more of the background of a situation while I am forming an opinion.

I think the most moving aspect of the evening was hearing how much everyone around the table truly cares about the people they serve as representatives of the various United Nations entities. We in America tend to have a very jaded view of the UN and its accomplishments, but when you are on the ground, so to speak, there is so much good work being done by dedicated people whose intent is to change lives for the better.

It is almost church, and something for us churchy people to think about.

On Saturday Sandy and I took a small excursion to the Four Seasons Center where I could pre-price touristy gifts. Sandy said the prices there are good and will provide good comparison for other expeditions.

After Moses and Miriam woke from their naps we all piled in the car and drove down to Kumbali Lodge. That's the place Madonna stays when she is in the country adopting children. I can see why she stays there. The Road to Kumbali Lodge is right in front of the President's home. In order to get to the road there is a checkpoint -- a checkpoint that is there for the benefit of the President. Just so happens the check point guards don't like paparazzi any more than Madonna. Works out well.

On the way to the Lodge is Kumbali village, which is supposed to be a tourist stop where they have individual huts constructed for pottery, carving, art, etc. Unfortunately, we got there around 5 p.m. and it was almost all closed down. I think Kumbali village has not yet caught on. Maybe having to go through a checkpoint is a bit of an impediment?

Our First excurision . . . and then some.

I think I am no better at figuring out blog titles than I am sermon titles. Ugh.

Anyway. I am so hoping I will be adjusted to the travel and time change soon. Last night I went to bed at midnight and didn't wake up until 10:50 a.m.! Almost 11 hours sleeping does not a good houseguest make! That may be just what I needed. Let's hope so; and, let's see when I wake up tomorrow!

Yesterday was pleasant. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings Sandy goes walking with some of the women of the neighborhood. Some are young with young children. Some are not as young with young children. Makes for an interesting walk. Sandy says she used to go with one child strapped on her back and the other in a stroller. It is what accounts for her fetching svelte figure, but now that the kids are 2+, hauling the both of them around is a bit of a challenge. So the kids get to take turns.

Monday morning Sandy loaded Moses in the car and off we went to one of the Sara's homes. (There are two.) When the lot of us had gathered, off we went -- strollers, childpacks and all. We walked for a good hour at a fairly good clip. Sandy and I started out near the front of the pack and pretty much held our own until the end. Going around that last bend we somehow found ourselves last in the lane! I still think the other women cut the corner -- cheating us of third place. I'm told it is not a race. It's not, except in our minds. I'm pretty sure we were the oldest, and we don't like being shown up.

After the walk we all settled into Sarah's enclosed porch for coffee, tea and refreshments. It was quite nice.

As we walked, there were men and women walking to work, children walking to school (late). Walking seems to be the primary mode of transportation. I wondered what they thought of this group of women walking for nothing -- for exercise! We must seem very odd.

That afternoon Sandy and I sat down to plan the rest of my visit. We quickly agreed that Monday, Wednesday and Fridays -- being walking days -- were not the best for any extended or tiresome journey, so we broke the list down to "around the corner" and "far away."

Far, by the way, doesn't have to be far distance wise. Like New York City, we measure distance by time. Dedza is 73 Kilometers, or 45 miles from Lilongwe. I'd say it took us about two hours to get there. There's a small restaurant and pottery shop there.

The roads are quite interesting. The main highway is a two lane affair. Malawi is fairly hilly (at least where we are), so getting behind a truck is always a fun challenge. To pass or not to pass, that is the question. This time of year is the tobacco harvest and there are heavily laden trucks all over the place. The tobacco is piled high with no visible means of support. I'm sure there is some cuz none of them I saw were toppled over, but it is quite a sight to see.

All along the roads people walk. Men in suit jackets, women and young girls with bundles piled high on their head, school children teasing one another as the walk along. Nothing idyllic about this, though. These folks are working really hard. The sides of the roads are deteriorating in many sections, so when trucks and cars speed by they kick up quite a bit of dust. The people are covered, but they just keep walking -- many of them with no shoes! I can't help but wonder how they do that. The road is hot and dusty and rocky. There are many folks on bicycles, too; but for the most part there are walkers . . . lots and lots of walkers of all shapes and sizes and ages.

We had a good lunch at the pottery place in Dedza. Moses and Miriam were captivated by a crow sitting on the fence. When the crow took off they dissolved into puddles of laughter. It wasn't long, though, before they were off chasing another crow. They are small for their age which seems to work to their advangte -- they can really move!

Of course, you know I couldn't leave Dedza without a trinket . . .

Here's the Wikipedia link. The photograph was definitely staged. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dedza

On our way out of the pottery place Sandy stopped to buy tomatoes. I am so going to miss Malawi when I get home if for no other reason than there are real tomato tasting tomatoes here. The women stack them on tables. There will be two -- stem side down -- and two stacked on top in the middle -- like an inverted "T." Here in town the tomatoes are 100 kwacha. (I think the official exchange rate is 147 kwacha to the dollar -- you can do your own math, thank you.) Here in Dedza the tomatoes are 50 kwacha a stack. Quite a bargain.

After Sandy got back in the car someone spotted the children in the back. Everyone -- and I mean everyone -- had to take a look. All the women behind the tables and all their children were poking their heads int the car. Moses and Miriam ate it up. Nothing like being the center of attention.

On the way home we attempted to stop at Nkhoma Mission run by the Presbyterian Central Church of Africa. Here's the link from the PCUSA Web site: http://www.pcusa.org/health/international/profiles/nkhoma.htm

We couldn't find it. We turned down a dirt road and went quite a while. The road was actually two ruts in dirt. I think we probably could have driven without hands on the wheels -- the ruts would have kept us going in the right direction.

Along the road were villages -- certified, bonafide, thatched-roof hut villages. It was quite a revelation. I always knew people in these circumstances would be poor, but I had this picture of a circle of homes centered around a village common where people would gather for celebrations and village meetings. Not so. the homes seem randomly positioned. They were fairly close together and sometimes I could see in the distance the village outhouses. The structure was long and narrow and had, I think, five or six doors in the row. I recognized the structure immediately. It looked like the one in Providence Forge -- times six! The poverty was in the air -- you didn't need to open your eyes to see it, but a picture is worth 10,000 words.

What seemed like a long way down the road there was a fork in the road. No sign, but a fork. Alas! We took the most promising looking road, but when we came to a rise and saw nothing resembling a hospital in the distance, Sandy turned the car around and we headed home. I'm sure the folks who saw us come and go so quickly are still shaking their heads.

And now my head is nodding. I'm determined to be awake for the walk. (Or at least I intend to be on the walk, whether I'm awake or not.)

June 20th -- My First Real Adventure

It seems planes fly very early in Johannesburg. The first plane I heard flew directly over my hotel room at 4:30 am. I’m pretty sure the wheels scraped the hotel roof. At least it sounded like they did. The roar of the engine drowned out the sound of the thumping, I am sure. I figured I’d get used to it, so I gave myself a half hour to fall back to sleep. Then I gave myself another half hour. Then another. Then I got up. It was only an hour earlier than I planned to arise.
That’s okay. It gave me time to repack BOTH my bags. Now I know where my toothbrush is for sure.

My flight isn’t until 12:25 p.m. but I wanted to begin the checkout process early. When I left dinner last night there must have been a jillion people checking in. The shuttle from the hotel to the airport left every half hour and was an eight-seater mini-van. If there is not enough room for you on the van, you have to wait for the next one. By my faulty reasoning, the only reason to stay at a hotel on the runway is to be sure to get to the airport in time for your next-day flight out. If a jillion people were angling for the van, I could have a long wait.

I was planning to be on the 9:30 shuttle. I went to breakfast and on my way back to my room I asked for assistance with my baggage. The one bell person (is that what we call them these days?) was busy with a check-in and I was assured he would come to me immediately after. Given the time (about 8 a.m.), I figured I might get on the 9 o’clock van.

So, did I know immediately meant IMMEDIATELY? Six minutes after I got back to my room there was a knock on my door. We got down to the desk and I was the only one checking out. Seems those jillion people checking in last night were staying at the hotel for a conference. Interesting choice of hotel for a conference.
I was on the 8:30 shuttle and to the airport long before Air Malawi opened its office or manned (personed?) it’s check in counter. I was definitely on time.

I wish I could draw you a picture of the check-in area. Air Malawi had two stations. There is a rope about 30-40 feet from the stations and folks queue up. Sort of. The queue reminded me somewhat of the chaos in Mexico City. People with carts bearing tons of luggage and boxes milling around the narrow opening waiting for their luggage to be weighed. When it was my turn the nice gentleman weighed my carry-on which was 18 kilos. I thought to myself, great. What’s a kilo – feeling an awful lot like Bill Cosby’s Noah. The carry on limit is 8 kilos.
Apparently they don’t make allowances for ignorance.

So there I was, sitting on the floor outside the rope reorganizing my carefully packed luggage. My 24” suitcase is now expanded with lots of heavy stuff on the top so it won’t stay upright. Once I got it all organized (sort of) the nice gentleman reweighed my carry on. 12 kilos. Great.

Ah! They do make some allowances for ignorance. I got through. Now it will be interesting to see if my 52 kilo checked bag actually lands in Malawi when I do.
All the while I was trying not to look as frustrated as I was feeling. I wanted to explain to the gentleman how good I had been packing for this trip, but I don’t think it would have made much of an impression.

Now I am sitting in the lounge waiting for my flight drinking 200 ml of Coca-Cola light – less than 100 kilojoules per 100 ml. Maybe I’ll learn the metric system while I’m over here. I’m looking out of the waiting area and I just noticed a HUGE sign for Red Heart Rum – the official rum of Vodacom Super 14 Rugby. Wish I had known that last night. I would have tried some. Now that would be an interesting occupation – being an international rum taster.

Well, it’s 20 minutes before boarding time and I’d better start the gate hunt. I have no idea where I am. It would be a shame to miss my flight after getting to the airport 3-1/2 hours early!

Midnight – flight was smooth. I arrived safely and am so glad to be here! Sandy, Maitland and the children are well. They’re better than well – they’re thriving. Now it’s time to sleep.

Notes to Self

Note to self: Do not worry too much about your makeup when embarking on an 18 hour flight. All that will survive, maybe, is a little eyebrow.

Note to self: There are a lot of very helpful people out there. Don't worry. Someone will help you lift that suitcase into the overhead. Pack away!

Note to self: When you go to the trouble of making a mini-toiletry kit for your carry-on so you don't have to go into your big suitcase during an overnight layover, remember where you put your toothbrush. Now I've got to repack the big suitcase. Grrrrr.

Note to self: It really is okay to talk to people on airplanes. Some folks are usually downright fascinating when you listen. By the same token, if you see a woman eating alone in the dining room, staring out into space, ask if you can join her. You never know what you'll learn about Namibia (you can fill in a blank).

Note to self: Find a way to pressure Comcast into carrying CNN International and BBC for real -- not the edited for us version.

Note to self: When passing through a country you have never visited before, maybe you should plan to spend a couple of days getting to know the place before leaving.

Well, here I am at the Airport Grand Hotel in Johannesburg marveling at how unremarkable the journey has been, so far. It most definitely is a reminder not to stress.

Pre-journey was a little tense. First, the Dr. Julie (the witch doctor -- if you don't know that story, I'll blog about it one day, I am sure) recommended (out of an abundance of caution) that I not wear open shoes in Africa. I know my African friends will think she has lost her mind, but, oh well. So, instead of beginning to pack at noon, there I was in Nordstroms in Tyson's corner looking for a pair of shoes that would work with skirts and pants.

Then I got call and had something I needed to pick up in Rockville, so insteand of begining to pack at 1:30 or 2, I was stuck construction traffic of 495. While in Rockville I stopped into see Seth from the Ghanaian Presbyterian Church of Maryland. Seth has made bunches of arrangements for my stay in Ghana, and Rev. Mark thought it would be a good idea for us to meet before I took of. It was a good idea, and I figured I gcould get home by 3. I was still in good shape.

On my way home I received a call. The family member of a dear friend called to say my friend was just taken to the emergency room, and the family member was severl hours away. So, rather than exiting at River Road, around the Beltway I went to Alexandria Hospital. The traffic Gods were watching. I made it in 30 minutes!

Family members arrived not too long after, and I managed to get home by 8 p.m. I'm thinking this all ended up being a good thing because I didn't have a lot of time to think and rethinkwhat to bring and to pack and repack which probably is what would have happened had I started at noon, or 2, or 3. (My friend, by the way, is much better. I understand they were sending her home today. It is not easy being 90!)

Note to self: Do not over think your packing. Just try to remember where you put your toothbrush.

Those who know me well will be surprised to hear I have a 24" suitcase that I checked; a 22"er I carried on along with a small regular hand-carried bag. That's for more than a month. And I'm carrying a fair number of crayon boxes and Obama tee shirts. AND I didn't use the 2" expansion in either suitcase.'

I think I am going to be very tired of these clothes in 34 days.

Those of you who saw my tweet from the plane know I was sitting across the aisle from a couple of gentlemen who were on their way to South Africa to do some bird hunting. I was a little put off about that, but when they started talking about squirrel hunting, I thought that would be okay. Maybe I'll invite them over and sit them out on my back deck with a bottle of Johnny Walker Black. (It's what they were drinking on the plane.) I finally got up the nerve to ask them what kinds of birds they would be hunting in South Africa. Ducks and geese and pidgeons.

Hmmmm. Okay. Pidgeons are the squirrels of the air. Maybe they'd like to set up shop on my Parents' stoop in Brooklyn.

When we arrived in South Africa the Chick (that was his name) and Dave graciously took my suitcase down from the over head and we headed off to Passport Control. One of the booths was for taking your temperature! It was a random thing, and I guess I looked healthy enough because I didn't have to have mine taken. I got my passport duly stamped (whoopee! I've got evidence!) and off I went through the "nothing to declare' section of customs.

Not what I imagined. We all just strode through the wide hall to the exit and there were uniformed customs agents with clipboards. They randomly stopped folks walking through to check their luggage and ask additional questions. Not quite as organized as I anticipated the customs checkout to be. There were no counters or anything. The agents just stopped random people in the hallway. Most interesting.

I decided to have dinner in the hotel. The food was hotel food geared to cater to European and American tourists. Nothing to talk about there, but at the table across from me there was a single woman finishing her meal and she was just staring off into space. First we started talking across the table and I finally asked if we could sit together. Good move.

Luciana is a school principal in a village in Namibia. She just came from a conference in Lilongwe where she and representatives from other African countries worked on strategies to facilitate getting women and disabled people more involved in sports. We talked about the difficulties diabled folks have because the infrastructure to support them simply isn't there. (No disabilities acts in Africa as of yet.) While she loves working with the 'women in sports' group, her passion clearly is working with the issues faced by the disabled. It was great to get to know Luciana and to hear about her life (she has three children: 21, 15 and 2!). She has traveled all over Africa working on these issues.

So this is my trip, thus far. Not really exciting. Sometimes that is a very good thing. I am happy to be here and sooooo looking forward to seeing my friends, Sandy, Maitland, Moses and Miriam tomorrow. Next time, though, I will plan to spend a few days in South Africa. Every South African I've met so far has convinced me I have made a huge mistake.

It is now nearly midnight. Time to go to sleep.

Oh yes. I did find my toothbrush -- in the carry on where I thought it was in the first place. Now I've got to figure out how to get everything back in the BIG suitcase. AUGHHHHHHH! :-)

Blog to Me

Okay. So it is late and I am tired, but I still have a half-glass of wine and I had a great idea for a blog:

• Sometimes I don't treat Jesus too well. (Jesus Doll)
  

But then I couldn't log on. I forgot to use my whole email address, then I couldn't remember the password I used

• Too many Passwords in Life

and there were a thousand steps to reset the password

• Security

and I greatly suspect it was the password I already had

• Memory
  

I did, however, much to my surprise, remember the name of my blog. That's a start.

And even as I type this, I know there are three or four other things I thought would make good blog subjects but I have forgotten them already.

• Really bad Alzheimer's joke

I was thinking I started this blog to keep in touch with my family and friends on my first month-long sojourn (in which I will get very tired of my clothes) to Malawi, Ghana and Rome.

But I think there is more to it than that.

Maybe.

Oh my gosh! I've started a blog!

Years ago I went to the (I think) Tenth or Twelvth Variable Doo Dah Parade in Pasadena, California. At the time they called it the "Variable" Doo Dah because, while it happened consistently, it wasn't always on the same weekend. The Doo Dah is a parade spoof, and judging from the web site: http://www.pasadenadoodahparade.info/ they've gotten more regular and a lot raunchier than when I first saw them. Organizers call it "the twisted sister to Pasadena's other parade." (That would be the Rose Bowl . . .)

What I liked best about the concept was the variableness of the thing. Yeah, there will be a parade. It will be held sometime before or after the other Pasadena parade. And, yeah, there will be lots of floats (like, Prom Queen of the 60s) and marchers (like the Syncronized Marching Briefcase Drill Team). And Yeah, "each year the Thorny Rose is awarded to Pasadena’s most controversial citizen, by an anonymous committee of local socio-political observers." (From their web site). However, we were not always sure when the Parade would be or who would show up.

With life so very structured and organized, I like the idea of the confidence of the Doo Dah happening, without anxiety of certainty that often accompanies scheduled events. It is my attempt not to be obsessive compulsive. Maybe it will work.

All this is to say this will be (at least initially) a variable blog. Once I hit "post" it may take me a while to find it again, and I'm probably not as prolific as I think I can be. My postings will be variable, but they will be. And that's the truth.