Car Buying

Our little car has served us well over the last few years. Or at least it got us to where we were going most of the time. But the time is coming for a change. Lately the battery is starting to die and I've stuck a solar panel in the back window to keep it charged (which is fine as long as we're not out after dark). However, buying cars in Niger is another story. Most people hire an agent to go out looking for them. Middlemen in theory are supposed to be helping the buyer but nevertheless I still get the distinct feeling of dealing with a salesman. Cars aren't built in Niger only rebuilt, and having said that the best buy is probably imported. Toyota will ship new products but shipping alone is over a thousand dollars. So the short version is we've been looking at used cars in Niger. Imports seem invariably to have had their odometer rolled back though there's usually some indication of what the real mileage should be. One car had the Swiss maintenance record in the glove compartment. Another had a little sticker by the door hinge from an Italian garage recording mileage at the last oil change... Fun doesn't stop there. Imported cars need to passed through customs to have the appropriate taxes paid. Paying once doesn't mean you won't have to pay again. Friends from various other missions have had their vehicles impounded on occasion because someone in customs pocketed the money instead of processing the paperwork. Oh, and did I mention that on newer cars that have micro chips in the key, you can't have a second key made because there is no way to prove that the car wasn't stolen at some point in time. Needless to say this is somewhat stressful moment, but God is faithful.

Simple Pleasures

This week was Ben's birthday so we gave him some choices for his celebration: 1) have a party at school with his whole class or 2) have some friends from his class over for a party or 3) go out to the restaurant of his choice with the family or 4) have one friend sleepover. He chose to have the sleepover, which means that we delayed the celebration by a day so that the sleepover wouldn't be on a school day. This left the problem of the dinner meal for his actual birthday, to which he responded “chicken noodle soup!” Thanks to friends in Canada that had sent some we used the last package or chicken noodle soup to celebrate his birthday and to make the day extra special, God provided that Grandma & Grandpa's present arrived in the mail on the day of his birthday. Because we only had one friend for the “party” we decided to make the presents a little more interesting by sending him on a treasure hunt to find them. He was thrilled.

I am amazed at how it can take so little to make a seven year old happy. Why is it that as we get older we forget to stop and take the time to revel in simple pleasures? I decided to do something about that and to slowly revel in the peppermint patty that Grandma sent me in the package! :)

Thanks for those who have been praying for us. We used Ben's birthday as a opportunity to reach out to some young men that we have been connecting with and invited them over for homemade ice cream. They came and we had a good visit with them. Continue to pray for our language learning and open doors, I struggled to understand a couple of ladies who came to our house last night looking for work and missed an opportunity.

One Is Enough

People still marvel at our use of Zarma in the street even though we're still have only a survival level of Zarma at best. It's just enough to get into trouble. We like to go out to the main road by our house where there are a number of street vendors selling everything from soup to nuts as my brother would say. The other day we went out to pick up some breakfast, little deep fried pancakes that are a penny a piece but heavy on the grease. Balkissa, one of the vendors greeted in us in Zarma and chatted. Meanwhile a crowd began to gather to watch her carry on with the white people, including a couple of ladies that were standing behind us whom I could overhear talking about the Anasara's ie. white people. Balkissa turned to me and nodded to the ladies behind Jennifer, and I thought she asked, “Do you understand what they're saying?” “Yes,” I said. She repeated this time point at them saying, “You understand them?” “A little bit,” I replied. At that point Jennifer suspected that something might be awry as some began to laugh. Upon further clarification I discovered what she really had asked was “Would you like to take one of these women as a wife?” (“Yes”) And then, “That one, you would like her for a wife?” (“A little bit...”) It was one of those days when I was glad I had Jennifer standing beside me. I quickly explained that I was quite content with the wife I had, and desired no more. “Oh but this is Niger,” she said, “you can have four wives here.” No, one is enough, and fortunately she helps keep me out of trouble.

Feet

I learned a new Hausa proverb this week that goes something like, “Your feet are your commission…”. I gathered that the essence is something like “your feet show where your heart is…”

I had been talking to my accountability partner about my frustrations with language and how I feel utterly useless because I can’t communicate. It makes me want to hide out or to go back to teaching English (where I know what I am doing and can feel a measure of success). She told me that in using my feet and getting out there to visit my neighbours I was not only exposing myself to the language to learn it, but I was saying that I cared about the people I was visiting even if I couldn’t understand or speak to them in a way that I would like to.
It makes you think doesn’t it? Where have your feet been spending most of their time? What are your priorities really? It is easy to let the busy-ness of life take over and direct your steps, so that you find your feet are always on the gas pedal and rarely stopping to visit that friend or neighbour that you have been meaning to catch up with. Or so busy rushing to the next location, that you don’t take the time to ask the store clerk you see weekly (or daily?) how they are doing –or even worse never take the time to really listen when you do ask. Maybe when you put your socks on tomorrow (or in my case, sandals) you’ll take a minute to ask God to direct your steps. You might be amazed at where you end up.

[About the pictures: The first is traditional henna tattoos that the women here do to get ready for a wedding. They usually decorate their hands too. These feet belong to me and a cousin that came for a visit we actually did this with a friend who was getting ready to go home to get married. The second is a shoemaker making sandals.]

Murphy's Law (anything that can go wrong, will!)

--of electricity
Last week Murphy’s Law of electricity struck us when I was up at 4am writing the blog and getting other jobs accomplished that required electricity before the power went out, because that was the only day in the last two and a half weeks when the power didn’t got out! Dave thought I should do that more often. I figured that it is his turn, but that would just turn into another exercise in futility because Dave is not a morning person.
--of propane
The other night our neighbours come over to confirm that they couldn’t find any propane in town for their stove. Of course, we run out of propane that night too! (Praise God! We were able to find some the next day—our neighbours haven’t been so lucky, but they have someone working for them that is quite good at cooking over a fire)
--of vehicles
This morning I was racing off to school and a meeting only to find as I pulled out the driveway that my tire was flat (of course our compressor had died from too much use, or the dust in the air!). I eased the car around the corner to the guy who fixes tires, only to find out he wasn’t open yet (and we weren’t exactly sure when he would arrive). So we tried a neighbour that we knew who had a compressor. Only to find out that he was sick, so instead of using the compressor he lent us their second car. The problem was that it was out of gas. When we finally got to the third gas station (the first one that was actually open), we couldn’t get the key to work in the lock on the gas cap and had to try to get to the school on fumes. Oh, and did I mention that the cell phone didn’t work the first two times we tried to phone the school to let them know that we would be late. (All before 8am! However, even with all of this I was only 5 minutes late for my meeting and it hadn’t started yet!)

I am so glad that we serve a good and gracious God that supplies all of our needs, gives us the strength to endure and doesn’t test us beyond what we can handle. And I am also grateful for all of your prayers! Thanks.