Life in Olepishet

Life in Olepishet is another new adventure. We are staying in a three room facility that normally operates as a place for oral Bible training. The place is equipped with bunk beds and linens, four plastic chairs, and a wood table. One metal bunk bed frame has become our shelf for language learning resources and materials, our food items, and a plates and utensils drying rack. In one corner sits our gas canister for cooking and the wall opposite the door are colored basins lining the wall filled with water used for cooking, cleaning, and bathing. In the middle of the room is the table that serves as our meal prep table and language learning desk. Our bedroom contains our belongings and two bunk beds pushed together with a mosquito net covering our little sleeping area/bed fort. 

     

After language learning, Chase and I prepared a fine meal of pasta and cleaned up in preparation to go on a walk. After walking a bit, we realized I had left Chase's Nalgene water bottle on the steps outside our house. We quickly hiked backed realizing there was a good chance it may have been taken. Sometimes things like to disappear. Thankfully, the bottle was sitting where I had left it. The previous day's market adventure had reminded us just how necessary these bottles were after an entire day in the hot sun and Landcruiser. (Of course, we had no idea it would take all day long, but we were waiting on an intertube since we ended up with a flat the day we arrived here and we didn't want to drive all the way out again the following day.) 

Chase and I continue to practice language with each other and people we meet and are thankful for each other's company in a place where we get lots of smiles and also lots of stares. To get a phone signal, we have to walk a bit to go and stand near this certain rock. We can only get texts or call people when by that rock and even then it's a gamble. Our experience to check and send emails proved to be an interesting one. We drove about fifteen or twenty minutes and when we parked, children and young people were eager to see who and what was happening with the people in the car. As I called my mama, she could hear people laughing and asking us questions in the background. Other than the words, "Give me ten shillings" and "What is your name?" we couldn't understand what they were saying. We answered and smiled back, but my heart sank with questions. How do I portray my love and care? Is it by giving shillings or is it by praying that God will shine through my smile when I have no words to speak? Or is it both? These are the delimmas of a missionary, I guess. One thing is for sure. You learn to rely on and ask for God's grace more than ever before.