Where Skies Burn

It's finally finished. After months of selecting from over twelve thousand photos, designing layouts, editing, writing and formatting, it's finally ready for your coffee table. I've organized and self-published a collection of the very best of my photos from this past year into a 76-page 9x7 photo book for your viewing pleasure. The books are available for purchase exclusively from my Lulu.com storefront for only $22.95. For those who haven't been following this blog regularly you can get a sample of my photography under the label heading "photo of the day" in the right column or following the link to my Flickr site. Thanks to everyone for all your support and encouragement through this adventure. May this book be a small token of my appreciation for you all. I hope these photos will be a reminder to you of God's glory displayed through beauty and through poverty, on this continent and every other.

Two Different Worlds

I’ve spent two weeks saying not much has changed, but as the novelty of being home begins to wear off I’m starting to see those things that are very different. And not necessarily different than when I left, but perhaps I just see them differently because I left. Things as subtle as conversations, what people talk about, how much they talk, expressions people use; it’s not things you’ll notice after a two week short term trip, more like things I would expect an African to notice. Every time I shake someone’s hand I want to do our three-part Namibian handshake. I feel offended when I haven’t greeted someone at an event (yes, you read that right and it is quite intriguing). The appeal and temptation to spend money frivolously here is to the point of overwhelming. Spending money isn’t an event; it’s just a natural part of life. I’m beginning to realize that I’ve gone way beyond getting annoyed or even frustrated at cultural differences. I’ve gotten to where I think far differently about things like money and relational living. Dallas Willard describes culture as what you think and do without thinking about thinking or doing it. If that’s true, then after a year Africa has left a far bigger imprint on me than I probably realize, definitely more than a little dust in the blood.

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As a sidenote, for those who are concerned that I use the term Africa far too generically, especially seeing as Namibia is the only African country where I’ve ever been outside the airport, please consider this. While yes, Africa is a continent, most Africans I’ve met from whatever country take pride in identifying with Africa, much like residents of our 50 states identify themselves with our country, the United States. We even go so far as to call our country ‘America’ when in actuality that is the name of our continent. Much of Africa shares a common heritage in tribal living, colonialization, and racial oppression. The struggles with war, poverty, and disease have left no country unscathed. With their shared culture, history, and crises it’s no surprise Africa has forged for itself an identity that somewhat resembles how we Westerners would think of a country.

There and back again

How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on?
Then in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back.
     ~Lord of the Rings: Return of the King

That’s how I expected to feel coming home, but truth be told, that hasn’t been my experience…at least not yet. I look around at everything that was once so familiar, and now a year older, but relatively the same. The biggest thing that’s struck me so far is how little has changed, how life goes on without you, not skipping a beat. And now I just melt right back in, almost as though I never left.

But that raises the obvious question of how I have changed, which is more what Frodo’s quote is talking about. How does a changed person fit back into a culture that hasn’t changed? Or in our cross-cultural training terminology, when a square-headed person lives in a round-headed culture his edges become more and more rounded. So how does the newly rounded square-headed person fit back into his square-headed culture?This is the process often called “re-entry” or “reverse culture shock.” At least that’s the technical explanation. More personal insights to come as I experience more.

As for the jet-lag, I was kind of enjoying waking up at 5 and 6 in the morning, reading the Word, watching the sunrise. The morning hours are lovely, a few quiet moments before the world awakes to it’s busy-ness. But I think staying up until 1am watching the Patriots last night has gone a long way to setting my body clock back on schedule.

Sleep when you get home

Over 12,000 photos and 218 blog posts later, I find myself back in the United States. I won’t write much tonight because my body clock is telling me it’s 2:15am, but I need to keep myself awake a little longer to help with the jet lag. Everything with my traveling went amazingly well. The lady at the desk checked in my overweight bags with only a slight scolding. The immigration officer didn’t ask a single question. Layovers were short and uneventful. And on the long flight from Johannesburg to Washington D.C. I had an extra seat next to me so I could stretch out a bit. Everything went great.

I picked a good time of year to come back. With my first deep breath of fresh air I was reminded how much I love fall in New England. The cool temperatures, the few colored leaves that remain, even the light sleeting this afternoon were welcome homecoming gifts. It was good to meet up with friends and family and catch up a bit. Much more of that lies ahead I’m sure. At least for a short while I’ll continue posting about my thoughts and reactions to being back in American culture as part of the overall educational experience. But for now, it’s off to bed for me…

Until next time

The bags are packed, each weighing in at close enough to 50 pounds that I should be ok. Most all my goodbyes are said. And I have only a nights sleep and a few last minute errands between me and my flight home. For my last post from Namibia I thought I would leave you with a list of random little things I will miss (other than all my incredible friends of course!):

1) The geckos stalking moths on my window screen
2) Cattle grazing right next to the road
3) Warthogs on the side of the road
4) Watching the sun set on the horizon while it’s raining overhead
5) How rain is a blessing, not an annoyance
6) The extravagant colors of clothes, houses, flowers…everything
7) Namglish
8) Solitary mountain tops
9) Pink, blue, and orange money
10) Being tan!

Photo of the Day

Grace, Stephanus, Emily, and Tuuliki playing
in the pool at our Gross Barmen Fun Day.

Two hundred and forty seven

That’s the number of days I’ve been illegal in the country. Now finally four days before I leave I’ve got my visa and my peace of mind. Yesterday morning I drove in to Windhoek and went straight to Home Affairs. I found myself on the third floor (where all the important people’s offices are) speaking with a Miss Inge. I was eying the large stamp on her desk that would easily solve all my woes. I explained my situation, then she explained it to someone else, then they called over an intimidating immigration officer who briefly said, “This man is going into custody.” But armed with the prayers of all my friends and the fact that they seemed like they genuinely wanted to help me, the three worked out a situation where I could get a 4 day exit visa and the certain immigration officer couldn’t be held responsible. So I walked out that morning with a stamp in my passport and a spring in my step from such a weight lifted. Praise the Lord!

The rest of the day was filled with visits to old friends in Windhoek that I won’t see again. It was such a blessing to reconnect with some of them that I hadn’t seen in ages. In the evening I picked up Toivo and we went to a youth group meeting at one of the churches that attended the camp I was involved with back in May. In typical African style, I ended up sharing the message about Jeremiah and being a prophet to your own people. Afterward they prayed over me as I’m preparing to leave. The warm-hearted, welcoming African spirit never ceases to amaze me. You can meet someone for five minutes and every time thereafter it’s as if you’d been friends for years. There’s nothing in the States I can quite compare it to except visiting these old-time, country Baptist churches with my singing group in college. That’s one part of this culture that I will miss greatly.

As I write this, I’m about to head out to Gross Barmen Hot Springs with the kids from the Ark for a kind of farewell fun day. After spending so much time with them before, I’m glad I can get in a good full-days worth of quality time before I go. Then it’s final goodbyes and packing on Sunday, and off to the airport on Monday. How time flies!