Our homestay mom and me
Caprice and I have dance parties with the kids in our apartment.Yes, Yaqoob is head banging
Never assume that the Internet will be readily available wherever you go! I’ve had to learn that the hard way. Actually it really hasn’t been that hard. It has been more difficult to motivate myself to write my thoughts out on my computer knowing that they probably won’t be published/sent for several more weeks. The lack of Internet has enhanced my laziness in that way. I feel like I have years to update you all on, even though it has only been about three weeks. (Sorry, Dr. Frost)
So to continue on from my last blog, a couple days after I had written, we had a birthday party for our homestay mom. Our homestay dad went ALL out for this party because it was a surprise and he is just a really good husband. He invited almost 50 people, but only about 25 were able to come. He had wazwan made and brought to the house. Wazwan is a variety of meat dishes served on huge platters and in big bowls. Some is really spicy, some is not. Caprice and I and the other family members spent the evening serving the guests and making sure they had plenty to drink. Then that evening, after everyone left, we got to just sit down and eat. It was a wonderful party, but we learned some sad news that day, too. Our homestay sister announced that she was leaving. I had gotten really close with her during our time there, so I was very sad. The night before she left, Caprice and I stayed up late making her a journal out of a notebook and cut up magazine pieces. It has her name on it and reminders of several inside jokes that we had shared.
After she left, I was pretty bummed and homesick. It was also awkward because we weren’t really sure where to help out. I always helped out before by following our sister around and helping here with whatever she was doing, or at least watching her cook or sweep. After she left, our homestay dad’s father and sister were still there from the party, so we weren’t really sure how much we should let them do, as far as playing with the kids and stuff. As a result, we spent a little more time in our apartment. We had noticed during that time that our homestay dad seemed to be a little sad or depressed or something, we weren’t sure what. One day on a walk, we asked our homestay mom if he was ok. She smiled and said, well he’s mad at you. I was shocked! (Just a little insight into my personality, I CANNOT stand for people to be upset with me. I have serious people-pleasing issues and I need people to like me, so if anyone is upset with me, I have to be able to fix it.) I immediately proceeded to grill her about why he was upset, what we did and how we could fix it. She mentioned a few little things that we had done and said that he gets angry easily, even with her. She said not to worry about it and that he would probably start talking to us again in a few days. I was not satisfied with that answer. When we got home, we looked for an opportunity to ask him why he was upset and tell him sorry, but there was a lot of tension that night on the news and out in the city, so it really wasn’t a good time. That night, Caprice and I both cried quite a bit because we didn’t know what we could do and we both felt that we were being a burden on this family that we had wanted so much to help. Our goal was to be a blessing to them, but we thought that we had turned into a burden. After listening to Caprice cry for a while, I got dressed again and was going to give him a piece of my mind for making her cry. She had such a rough time there, and I didn’t want him making it worse, because she was trying so hard. It wasn’t fair for him to be upset with her. Anyway, I chickened out (which was probably the Father teaching me self-control) and gave myself until morning to cool off and plan what to say. The next morning, I woke up earlier than normal (5:20 am as opposed to 5:30) and went up to breakfast. Our homestay dad’s father and our homestay brother were in the kitchen with him, so I didn’t feel like I could confront him in front of them and all the children. I waited for the kids to go in the playroom and Caprice to come up for breakfast. Finally, while I was doing the dishes, I turned around and asked him point blank, “Brother, are you angry with us?” (we all call each other brother and sister (partially because they have trouble remembering our names) He seemed a little taken aback, but knew exactly what I was talking about. He mentioned the few things that our homestay mom did on our walk. I apologized and he left the room. It was just Caprice, our homestay brother and I left in the kitchen, and I started to cry. (Another insight into my personality, I hate crying. I rarely cry at movies, hallmark commercials, or even funerals. However when there is conflict hanging in the air unresolved, that’s when I apparently loose all control.) After I regained my composure, we went in to play with the kids before it was time for morning devotional. While sitting there with the kids, our homestay dad came in and explained himself a little further. I explained that we did not want to be a burden on his family. He said that there were no burdens; even the children weren’t burdens for him. That didn’t exactly make me feel better, but I did feel that the conflict was resolved. It did turn out also that he was more upset with me than with Caprice, anyway.
So in the midst of this rough patch, Caprice and I were able to start teaching English in my language teacher’s home. She has several cousins that want to learn English and are all high school age. We started out with about 6 girls, but now it’s grown to 14 girls and 2 boys. She is a little nervous about having that many people in her home because she is worried people with think they are having meetings about the Father. I’m not sure what to do about that, I told her that we would teach whomever she brought. Also, that same week we started, I made a new friend that lives about 3 miles away from our homestay. She goes to school very near our homestay, and that is how I met her. She is very nice and friendly, and very excited to have a friend from the US.
Now to bring you up to speed with the present, this past Thursday, we finally moved out of our homestay to the other side of our city. The auto ride is about 200 rupees, so it is a rather expensive trip, but we committed to teaching English on that side of town, so we will be making it 3 times a week, as long as the strikes don’t keep us here. We got all moved into our very own apartment and cleaned and shopped for food and other supplies we would need on Thursday. When we got home that evening, we both just lay down on our dining room floor and nearly fell asleep. We did eventually make it to our beds to sleep, but it took a lot of effort! Yesterday, we spent the day doing laundry, setting up our kitchen, and just taking a Sabbath. It was a nice day of rest because we hadn’t really had one in several weeks. That afternoon, we went up to visit our landlords. They live two floors above us and have two sons about our age. We got up there to visit Baji (that means older sister, and that’s what everyone calls her, even her sons), but she still wasn’t back from the hospital where her nephew was being born. The oldest boy was there and we said hi and stood there awkwardly wondering if it was ok to be there without Baji. He invited us in though and we chatted for a bit. Then we started talking about games and how bored they all were with the strikes. Since its Ramadan, they can’t eat either, so they are hungry and bored. He said that he would teach us how to play karam when he got back from prayers. Then he and his father left quickly and said they’d be back in five minutes. They woke the younger brother up to keep us company until we got back. He doesn’t like to go to prayers often, but he does like video games and soccer, so we talked about that until the older brother got back. The younger brother and I played chess and Caprice and the elder brother played karam (which is like pool and air hockey, but you hit the discs with your fingers). I enjoyed getting to the point where I was hopeless in chess and then I would give the game to the elder brother and he would try to win. He lost twice because of me though, so I did feel a little bad! After that we came back downstairs to start our dinner. I decided that I wanted to make the rice in the pressure cooker. Caprice was going to make the veggies and use some of the spices we had bought the day before. To make a very long and sad story short, the rice kind of exploded out of the top of the pressure cooker and turned into this baby food-like substance. The veggies had no taste, except for spicy. We were very VERY skeptical about how this would all taste, but we were going to eat it anyway. We set out our pretty table cloth on the floor and sat down on our pillows. We decided to treat ourselves to some Limca (a delicious lime soda) to make up for the nasty food. We began to eat and we just started laughing. It was so awful. After trying to choke it down some and then deciding on just eating popcorn and watching the one movie we have here with us (sisterhood of the traveling pants…ick), we heard a knock at the door. Our landlord’s youngest son was there with a tray and two bowls of yummy looking something. He explained that it was a sweet dish and said his mom wanted to send some down. I thanked him and told him that it looked so good and our dinner had just turned out awful, so we were thankful for a treat. He smiled and then ran back up the stairs. Before we had even touched the yumminess, we heard another knock. I jumped up and got the door. He was there again and said that his mom sent him to get us, since our dinner was awful, we would eat with them. I told him no, it was really ok, and he insisted. He went back up the stairs and we brought our yummy stuff with us and our dupattas (see Caprices’ blog). We had a lovely meal that was delicious. I am excited to get to know that family better.
A few things to bring to the Father on our behalf: - we have to get to the other side of town several times a week, which will be expensive and time consuming, please ask that this time is productive to further the Kingdom and that the Father would just show us His will on how we should continue to do this. - We are in a new community, so please ask that we would be active in making new friends here and that we would be able to use what gifts we’ve been given to minister in this place. Please continue to lift up the people here. There is so much tension all the time and everyone is sick of it. Some want freedom (Hazadin!) and others just want peace. Please ask that they would begin to realize that there is no freedom and no peace apart from faith through grace in the Son.
Love,
Kallie-Jo
I see this on my walk everydayP.S. In reference to my lovely blog title: So my lovely roommate and darling friend hates men. Not really, but here, in this country, she is constantly annoyed by the freedom they have to wear as little clothing as they please. Our homestay brother often tramps about the house in his shorts and wife beater while we sit there in our full-length, giant pants, very long shirts, and six-foot scarves draped over our chests and shoulders. Also, one more reason to dislike men in this country is the fact that they have serious staring issues. We’ve learned several phrases in Urdu to help prevent this problem. “Go look at your wife!” “You’ve watched too much television!” “Go away!” wageda wageda (or extra extra as people say here when they mean et cetera et cetera) I’ve only had one occasion to really use this because I kind of got used to annoying men last summer in NYC; for Caprice, though, it is pretty much a daily occurrence. I’ve decided that it is because sometimes I actually look like I live here, but her skin is so much fairer than mine in addition to her rosy cheeks; it just kind of gives her away.
P.S.S. This is a footnote to our Dupatta Poopatta Blog: The other day I was walking back from my language lesson and I have to walk past this army station. I was walking along, trying not to go too quickly (sometimes I get nervous) and all of a sudden I felt choked. I looked down and my dupatta was caught on the barbed wire spiral next to me. I blushed through and through and then proceeded to bend down to take it off the wire. Once I did that, I quickly walked away because I was so embarrassed at all the army guys watching me. However, things didn’t go as smoothly as I imagined. I felt a tug around my neck again and lo and behold, there was my dupatta caught on the wire a second time! They were all laughing by this point and I was about to melt into a puddle and die of embarrassment. I yanked it off there and held it tightly by my side until I was well out of barbed wire range. The End.
