Countdown.

Over the last 4 months, I have had many things to look forward to.  Naturally, I was able to keep track of all of these events by a countdown app on my phone.  I counted down to Dahab where I spent four days learning how to scuba dive.  I counted down to Dubai where I went to the top of the tallest building in the world.  I counted down to Ethiopia where I hiked across the Ethiopian Highlands with shepard boys and girls.  I counted down to Abu Dhabi where I partied with Jay Z.  I counted down to Hurghada where I learned how to enjoy scuba diving.  I counted down to Beirut where I learned how to speak Arabic while day drinking.  Now.  Finally.  I count down to Colorado where I feel the comfort of my own home.  And it could not come soon enough.

Living in Egypt isn't so bad.  I like my job.  My Second Grade team may be the most normal functioning team I have ever been on.  The kids are wonderful and make me laugh all day.  My apartment is pretty sweet.  It's on the best road in all of Maadi Degla.  I get to travel to the aforementioned places.  But I cannot wait to get home.  I can't wait to eat good food.  I can't wait to have heat and warm clothes.  I can't wait to see my family.  I can't wait to catch up with my friends.  And I can't wait to hang out with a certain boy.  

I looked back at past blog posts today about coming home.  It's funny.  As much as I love traveling, I write about coming home almost every time I travel.  They usually have the same theme though--not being ready to leave the place I am coming from.  Although I can't predict the future, this time it's different.  I don't know if it's Egypt.  Or if it's that I live here.  Or if it's that I've been gone too long.  Or if it's Colorado.  What I do know is this: the grass isn't always greener on the other side (Egypt doesn't even have grass).  So even though I am not coming home for good (yet), I know where I belong and will start an official Cairo Bucket list/Countdown to Colorado as soon as I return in January.  As much as this has been an adventure and an experience that I am thankful for, I know it's not for me.  Not now.  At the end to the school year, I will be headed home for good.  I'd love to give you details as to what has brought me to make this difficult decision over a fancy cocktail or a craft beer sometime.  

But I'm not done yet.  I still have lots of laughs with my friends and teammates here. I still have to teach some 7-year-olds how to read and write.  I still have to learn Arabic.  I still have to dive deeper.  I still have to see the region--Turkey, Jordan, and Greece for sure.  I still have to have some visitors.  I still have to visit my African family since I live in Africa.  I still have to see more of Egypt.  And for goodness sake, I still have to see the Pyramids.  So as I sit here now, counting the days, hours, minutes and seconds till I feel the frozen Colorado air on my cheeks, I know this adventure isn't over yet, but I desperately need a break.  Take me home!

Back where I belong.

I decided that as much as I knew I would miss Gulu this year, I couldn't spend another year thinking about and wishing that I was in Gulu.  I could no longer afford to count the days until I might one day return and as much as I want to not lose my Acholi-ness, I knew that I needed to move on.  Not that I'm done because that's impossible.  Acholiland is my pride.  Gulu is engrained in my heart.  It's funny though, what happens after being back after a month or so.  I find myself itching for culture, language and a simple life.  I crave building authentic-compassionate-intentional-yes-I-really-do-care-about-you relationships.  I seem to have a pattern when returning to the US after a life-changing experience and that seems to be investing myself in a {refugee} culture.  After Argentina, it was my Karenni refugee family.  Last year, I tried oh-so-hard to balance my need to be in Gulu, while being present, learning more about my Karen and Bhutanese Nepali students.  But what I have learned this year is knowing that I can't balance these things.  I have to be intentionally present while bringing things that make me Acholi into my everyday life.  Because those things I can do here.  Always.

Soon after I returned, I decided that I was going to fully invest myself into the refugee community.  This sounds daunting, but it turned out to be easy.  This year I get to teach ELD 1 and ELD 2 (English Language Development).  This means that all of my students are beginners or early intermediate English language learners.  Most are newcomers to the country and most of those students are refugees.  The second half of my job is to support these students (and teachers) in their B/EI literacy classes.  Many of these students have very limited schooling, literacy and language.  So needless to say, I know a lot of refugees.  And they like me.  I teach them English.  I learn how to say their names correctly.  I attempt to learn their languages and cultural dances.  And I LOVE them!  They make me laugh.  They make me cry.  They make me work harder than I have ever worked before.  They make me remember who I am.  They make me be present.

So things started to really fall into place when my good friend, Jenn, asked me if I wanted to 

(a) run a 5K (obvi the answer was no until I found out that it supported both Burmese refugees in the Denver metro area and on the Thailand/Burma border)

(b) mentor a refugee family with Project WorthMore

Naturally, I said yes.

Photo cred: Frank Anello, Project Worthmore

This afternoon I got to meet my [TWO!] families.  The first family we went to visit is a Chin family that has been in Aurora for 1 month.  Chin State is in Western Burma. When we got there, I was immediately introduced to the father, mother and the one-and-a-half year old boy asleep on the floor.  They were so kind and grateful that we were there.  After some checking in the refrigerator, Frank realized that they had no food.  When he asked why they had no food, they said their food stamps weren't working.  Fantastic.  Welcome to America.  As Frank tried to problem solve, the three kids that we hadn't met came through the kitchen door.  And then my heart danced with excitement.  In walked one of my newly enrolled 7th graders! When he saw me, he immediately smiled and walked over to shake my hand.  After trying to explain to him why I was there (without a translator), I told him he has to call me Ms. Millen at school, but can call me Jessica at home.  I am sure it would be so much easier if I just went by all three of my names.

After figuring out as much as we could about their lack of food (to be continued), we left to drive the 3 blocks to the other family.  The other family is a Shan family from Shan State in Eastern Burma.  I met the mother, father and their three-year-old daughter.  We talked for a while about how they were adjusting and what they needed.  When I was introduced I asked how long they had been here.  I was surprised to find out that they had only been in the country for 8 days.  There are so many things that they needed, but they were off to a great start.  I was sitting in possibly the smallest apartment that I had ever been in, yet it looked nothing like one would expect a refugee apt. to look like.  I am so excited to get to work with this family.  

Photo cred: Frank Anello, Project Worthmore

After we left, we went to Frank's house to get tons of veggies from his garden and then to King Soopers for a 4 day supply of meat, fruit and fish oil for a family of six.  We went back to the Chin family's apt and delivered an entire kitchen table's worth of groceries.  As we left, we saw through the kitchen window a family gathered around food, so happy that they were going to be able to eat.  

This is me officially invested.

Photo Update (Photo creeds: Frank Anello, Project Worthmore)

        

 

How to Cook an Acholi Meal {Not for the Faint of Heart}

When I first heard that Josh, Sarah and I were staying after school to go to Doris' house to slaughter a chicken for dinner, I didn't actually think that we were going to slaughter the chicken.  Well, I was wrong.  Click here  for the first phase of slaughtering a chicken.

The second phase of slaughtering a chicken is to pluck it's feathers, pictured here:

Phase three is putting the whole chicken on the fire to burn off any extra feathers (and keep the pussy cat away).

 Phase 4:  EWWWWWW, don't eat these parts.  Gross!

Phase 5:  Cut the chicken into pieces at the joints.

 These are all of the usable parts.  Yes, even the eggs.  In Acholi culture, the eggs are given to the husband as a sign of respect.  Doris and Okata are both teachers at SSBS, but are not married to each other (although they are both married and live away from their spouses).  However, Okata got to eat the eggs.

Phase 6: Cooking of the chicken stew.  First put in cooking oil and onions.  Then add carrots and garlic.  Then add a fresh chicken.

 Phase 7: Cook the side dishes.  Irish potatoes and fresh pineapple.

 DINNER IS SERVED!

Phase 8:  Thank the Lord for our food, eat and enjoy!  (Yes, that is a gizzard on my plate.  In Acholi culture, the visitor should always eat the gizzard as an honor.  If the visitor is not given the gizzard, then they are not welcomed.)

This night spent with Doris and Okata was by far the best Acholi meal I had ever had.  The food was fantastic (obvi) but the conversation was even better.  Sitting around Doris' living room with the florescent light blinking on and off continuously, we talked about family, beliefs and the insurgency.  As it grew dark, I couldn't help to imagine where we were and how unsafe it would have been for us to be there only six years before.
 We learned of the reputation that the school had had--stubborn, undisciplined boys--and then the current teachers that came in after to change it for the better.  This SSBS that they spoke of was unimaginable to us, so how did they get to this point?  It's simple.  Caring about their students.  Getting to know them.  Being Fair.  Stop caning.  Josh asked why they don't cane at SSBS.  The reply was that it's against the law.  True.  But all the other schools cane.  We've heard about it.  I've seen it.  We have many students impacted by the insurgency.  Many were held captive.  Many are former child soldiers.  How many?  In some classes, half of the students.  They are still going through rehabilitation, recovery.  We can't fight violence with violence.  We never know what would happen if we caned someone that has grown up surrounded by violence.  And I suddenly have a profound sense of respect for my partner teachers.  I have to swallow it because it might come out in the form of tears.

...and it's only Tuesday!

Although this may prove to be the longest week of my life, I have two student quotes that cannot go unmentioned.
1. V: Miss, why don't you teach math and science anymore?
Me: Because I have a new job.
V: That sucks.
Me: Why?
V: Well now you teach ELD and you already know English.  Don't you miss discovering things with us like last year in science.
Me:  Yes. Very much.

2. J: Miss, will you be here next year?
Me: As far as I know, why?
J: Because I just realized that there are 3 Hunger Games books and I don't think our book club can read them all this year.  Can we meet next year, too?
Me: Yes! (Oh the joy of tricking kids into reading something that they realize they love!)

Tuesdays are tough, but these are wonderful kids.  It also helps to have Tuesday night Date Nights with Maren.  Maybe I will make it to Friday after all...

Passion+Cause=Purpose

I just wish I could teach my kids this. It took me 28 years to learn.

http://www.forbes.com/sites/jessicahagy/2011/11/30/how-to-be-interesting/