Then in Guatemala, 2 years later in Africa

I was looking back the other day at pictures of Jim and I when we went to Guatemala 2 years ago to pick up Gabriel, our adopted son, and visit Aisha, our adopted daughter. The pictures reminded me of how small they seemed. Aisha was four years old, and only looked 2; Gabriel was 2, but seemed not much older than 1. I got a kick out of posing a picture of them in the same position as a previous one to show how much they have grown. They are now 6 and 4. It is great to see how much they have grown, and especially the smiles on their faces.

On the Road Again

I haven't blogged for a while, since I have been travelling a lot. We just got back from two long trips, one two-week trip in November over 1000 km of rough roads, and then another two-week trip over 800 km of windy mountain roads here in West Africa. Travelling in rural Africa is not a small undertaking, especially with four kids. It seems like we take everything with us - the usual, like clothing, and snacks, and the not-so-usual like air mattresses, extra linens, food for cooking for ourselves for two weeks or several trunks full of fresh produce that we get in the mountains, and are taking to those we are visiting who can't get that kind of thing in their remote villages. We went to visit several American families whose projects my husband helps to supervise, as well as some friends in another remote area for Thanksgiving, and the roads getting there got so bad at times it brought me to tears. Over the past 18 years of living this life in Africa I have developed arthritis in my back which makes these kinds of trips nearly unbearable and requires lots of therapy afterward. It is ironic when I think about it, since when I first came to Africa 18 years ago I was intrigued by the remote places, and longed to venture out into them. My first "bad road" trip in 1991 in which a fellow colleague drove his fossil of a Land Rover over deep potholes as if they were mere cracks, sent me soaring out of my seat and hitting my head on the ceiling over and over - at the time I remember thinking how exhilarating that was, to be "roughing it" in the "African bush". At the time I had the "wanderlust" of my German ancestors flowing freely through my veins, driving me to explore the outermost regions with enthusiasm and a great sense of adventure.

18 years and four kids later, my back arthritic and my tolerance threshold for change and stress pretty low, I endure the roads with all the strength and character I can muster, and crash into bed at night exhausted. The case of ameba and malaria I got on this trip was far from exhilarating. But I did it for the fellowship of good friends, and to say for one last time that I could do it. Now we are finally home for a long stretch after nearly 6 weeks of living out of suitcases, and all I long for is routine, and relaxing at home with my family in familiar surroundings. That will probably be our last "bad road" trip. We will leave Africa next year, and in many ways that was my farewell trip. Africa has a lot of charm and intrigue, but it also can have its toll on you, as it has on me. One thing it has taught me is that I long for my home country, the familiar, the normal, the comfort of home, family, friends and traditions. I have many good memories here, but many bitter-sweet ones too. I now look forward to the journey home.