Giving Thanks with a capital T

Happy Thanksgiving!

We are thinking of all the good food everyone will eat on Thursday; friends are sending me pictures of pies they've baked and facebook pictures remind me of my favorite time of year back in the States.  Fall...ah, Fall.

We are in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, where every day it feels like we are in a tropical rainforest, because I guess that's what this country is.  It's hot and sticky, and almost every day it rains - a torrential downpour complete with thunderous lightning strikes.  It's lush beyond belief and there's always the sound of dripping water from somewhere outside.  It's kind of an amazing place. Plus there's such amazing food here.

Rania, Gabi, and Eli enjoy some dumplings

While most of our family is in full Thanksgiving mode (there are celebrations to be had in Nairobi, Rome, and Phnom Penh for sure), and while we also will celebrate Thanksgiving tonight with the American staff of the International School of Kuala Lumpur, the rest of Malaysia is in full-on Christmas mode.  I remember this from our last visit during Christmas years ago, no one seems to love Christmas more than Malaysians.  I remember seeing the malls decked out in Christmas decorations the likes of which I'd never seen before.  It was surreal, sometimes, walking into a fancy mall to be serenaded by a choir made up of all sorts of people - including those wearing traditional Muslim head coverings - singing Christmas carols,  some of them with traditional religious lyrics.  It all made me feel strangely cheerful, actually.  There's this gung-ho sense of celebration here, and while we Christians try to remember the spiritual aspect of things, it's hard not to want to go downtown armed with many Ringgits (around 4 to the dollar), and buy, buy, buy!

The only mall not suitable for sufferers of vertigo

Well, before I get carried away with either Thanksgiving or Christmas spirit, I ought to reluctantly share with you that we had an amazing beach getaway over the last three days.  I say "reluctantly" because more than any other post, this one might make our friends in the colder climates hate us.  But it has to be done.

We went to the Malaysian island of Langkawi which is located off the west coast of Malaysia in the Malacca Straits.  We booked one room for all of us in a very basic hotel which did not have a cafe or bar or really anything but rooms.  And a gorgeous beach.  The water was the perfect temperature that allows you to just float around in it for a half hour before you even think about wanting to get out.  The beach had not one strand of seaweed.  It was absolutely fantastic.  I offer some pictures below to indicate what I mean by "fantastic".

Find the photobomber

I can't take a selfie without my veins coming to the fore.  (get it?)

Getting ready to parasail

Daniel way up there

You can't be part of a sunset like this and not be incredibly thankful

And now because it's been a few hours since I began this blog, I can share pictures of the amazing Thanksgiving dinner we just enjoyed at the International School of Kuala Lumpur where Doug and Tracy (Mark's brother and sister-in-law) work.  It was great to be with Americans, thinking of the holiday that binds all Americans together all over the world, regardless of race, religion, politics, etc.  It's a day when we can all agree that gluttony is okay.  Then we all regret that we ever felt that way right after desert.  I tried to reign it in this year, but failed as usual, and now feel I'll be up for a long time before the old GI tract permits lying down.  TMI, maybe...let me just post some pictures and wish you similar happy eating:

Potluck.  We, the combined KL Woodwards, provided mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, a gluten-free sweet potato pie, a jello relish (complete with the requisite midwestern garnish of marshmallows), and corn casserole. 

Eli, Reeve, Micah, Daniel, Gabi, Rania, and Rania's friend Ava help themselves

Desert table, part 1

Desert table, part 2

What else can be said?  The theme for this post is obvious...we give Thanks with a capital T.
Micah:  gives Thanks for this Asia trip.
Eli:  gives Thanks for this Asia trip, too.
Daniel:  gives Thanks for safe travels.
Mark:  gives Thanks for this year off and the chance to spend quality time with family.
Marta: is once again the blogger so she gets to take up more space.  I give Thanks for every magical thing we've experienced, but also Thanks for the magical friends and family that we have in our lives, back in the States and all over the world.  We give Thanks that we are in a position to blog our thanks from the comfy home of Doug and Tracy in the tropical land of Malaysia.  We give Thanks for the trips to come.  We give Thanks for Mekele, and the children who we get to hang out with every day.  I look at the pictures of tonight's banquet and think of these kids, whose generosity and kindness to us knows no limits.  We give Thanks for the people who send us e-mails and messages and little comments on this blog.  We cherish you!  We're surrounded by plenty, in every sense.  God is good, all the time.

PS.  No, I cannot update you on Hazal, but I'll leave you with this cool picture of Micah.

We did not stuff him in that bottle, it was taken at a 3D art show in Langkawi, Malaysia

The Bro Tour

What on earth....?

I'm taking advantage of being 13 hours ahead of the East Coast of the US.  It's Friday morning here in Malaysia and yet still very much Thursday over there.  So I might get this in before my self-inflicted deadline of Thursday.  That's rule number one.  Post on Thursdays.  Rule number two, I'm just discovering, is a pain in the neck.  It has to do with making one blog post per week. Sometimes that's tough because I feel like there's not much to say.  Other times - like today - it's tough because there's so much to say.  Mark suggests that I write about Nairobi today, and Thailand and Kuala Lumpur tomorrow.  But the rules....  Wait, aren't I the one that once wrote about rules and not needing them?

My niece, Maria, at Westgate Mall, which was badly damaged and where many lost their lives during
the terrorist attack of 2013.  Nairobi always bounces back.

A sixteen year old Noah smiles as his mother Donica presents him with a birthday cake.  The very next day
he took his father's car for a spin.  He'll have to wait until he's 18 to drive for real in Kenya, though.

Oh well, I'm sticking to the one blog per Thursday idea and in order to tie everything together, I've recognized that the one common theme of our travels is that both Mark and I have brothers who live afar.  My brother Moges lives in Nairobi, Mark's brother Doug lives in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and my older brother Mike lives in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.  We are on a bro tour, visiting them all - one by one.  As if that doesn't sound crazy enough, we have other friends who are like brother and sister to us - Nathan and Kristi - and they live in Hanoi, Vietnam.  And yes, we're visiting them, too.

Good friends of Moges and Donica's and old friends of mine, as well.  Kenny (far left) is the younger brother of one of my oldest buddies David Kuguru, and Kenny's wife is Ruth (far right), who I once beat in a foot race back in junior high.  In
the middle are Donica, Lilly, and Moges.

For years, these people have come to the States, torn through our summers and left us in the wake of their exotic travels.  Their kids speak of favorite airports and cities with a casual nonchalance and seem so well-adjusted to just about any circumstance they encounter.  At the end of each summer when they've all returned to their African/Asian homes, we wait for autumn and in the cool quiet of the changing season, I think to myself that I wouldn't trade the changing of the leaves and Halloween for anything in the world.

Do I still feel that way?  I don't know.  Mark and I just took a sweaty, humid jog through the Kuala Lumpur neighborhood where his brother Doug and sister-in-law Tracy live with their three kids.  Frangipani and palm trees are everywhere, the grass is so green, water from yesterday's rains rushes through all the drains, and the lush hills of the city look down on us...it's hard to think about going back home to the States sometimes.  But then Mark reminds me that this is vacation and who wants to go home during a vacation?

Anyway, we are - for once - the traveling ones!  We are, for once, the people who tell the airport stories, who emerge from a night's sleep in Bangkok still wearing the t-shirt from Nairobi, and who say things like, "I'll just get a pedicure in Kuala Lumpur, though it's so much cheaper in Bangkok."  Clearly I'm the only one saying that, though I do believe every single soul (sole?) in my family could benefit from a serious pedicure.  It could even be a health issue at this point.

Rather than write in detail about the things we've done and seen, let me just list a few highlights and post some pictures.

Nairobi highlights:  Seeing the transformation of the our old school, The International School of Kenya.  (A lowlight was trying to find the locker room - or even the general area - where Mark first asked me out; that area has been built over and then some).  But my old biology classroom was exactly the same!  Other highlights were being in Moges and Donica's gorgeous home, shopping at a bazaar with Donica and Lily Bekele Piper, a force of nature who we met through Moges and Donica (and everyone else in our lives from Kenya), celebrating my nephew Noah's birthday and gifting him with a box of Teff Rings cereal from Addis.  We jointly confirmed that it tastes awful; it tastes the way a barn smells, if you know what I mean.  Hanging out with my dearest friend Patricia and seeing how her boys have grown.  Just being back in Nairobi, with it's red, red dirt and beautiful people.  Seeing old friends who have come back and are helping to build Kenyan businesses up.  Micah's highlights:  Seeing the newly renovated Westgate Mall and eating at KFC there (first time for American fast food in months).  Eli's highlights:  Also eating KFC and watching Thor in a nice theater.  Daniel is still asleep so I can't give you his highlights.  Mark was really sick the entire time.

Where I think the old locker room used to be.  Now an extended eating area with three or four separate cafes. 

The old Biology classroom where I decided that Bio was the only way to go.

Bangkok highlights:  Everyone loved the food.  On day two the family split up and Mark and the boys took a bike tour of part of that enormous city, while Marta wanted a more sedate experience outside of the city.  The highlight of the boys' time was that day, and Marta - though relaxed and armed with a good book - did not have the most awesome day ever. Daniel's highlight was the elaborate scheme organized by a guide at the National Museum, a tuk-tuk driver, a federal government lawyer, a fashion store, and a high-end jewelry store (see the P.S. 2). But Bangkok is a wonderful, wonderful place to visit; noisy, creative, modern and old at the same time, western and eastern - just an amazing place. Can't wait to go back.

These wires are almost an artform

Be careful if you visit this part of the city with your young ones.  There are some fairly dodgy invitations above some of the neighborhood establishments.

At Wat Pho, a Buddhist temple that dates back to late 1600s - early 1700s.  The temple is thought to be the birthplace of traditional Thai massage and still houses a college that teaches it.  The reclining Buddha is unbelievably long, and the temple complex has the largest collection of Buddha statues in Thailand.

Street food is everywhere, all the time.

Above, Eli rides through a neighborhood in Bangkok, Micah is up ahead.  Bottom pic:  Marta's dreams of a peaceful day exploring a floating market are upended by the chaos of tourist hell, with boats jam-packed onto narrow canals beneath the hot sun and amidst the diesel fumes of motor boats.  We were the floating market, with sellers on piers, pulling our boats in and suggesting we buy stuff. Interesting, all the same... 

And now we are in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.  Mark's brother Doug and his wife Tracy work at the International School of Kuala Lumpur where Doug is an assistant principal and Tracy teaches high school English.  Their kids are Reeve, Gabi, and Rania, three of our six favorite nieces and nephews, all of whom are world travelers extraordinaire.  In fact, just when we think we're cool jet-setting types, we say a quick goodbye and see you Sunday to Reeve, who - without fanfare - is off to Jakarta, Indonesia for a basketball tournament.  You can't keep up with these folks, but it's fun trying!

More on KL later!

p.s.   I cannot tell you about Hazal and her current adventures, alas.  But I can tell you that that picture at the top of this blog, while being flabbergasting to us, barely cracked a smile at last night's dinner table.  If you were as worldly and wise as our traveling bros and their savvy wives, you would know that in some parts of the world, squatting is much preferable to sitting on the toilet, and that the urge to do so must be discouraged in more reputable places.

P.S. 2, from Daniel: The guide got us an incredibly cheap tuk-tuk deal to visit two historical sites and one place he called a "fashion show" that was only happening that day, meaning that we shouldn't miss it. The lawyer agreed that the "fashion show" was a special occasion and that we should definitely go. But when we arrived at the store, we realized that it wasn't a "fashion show" at all. It was just an ordinary store where people wanted to sell us fancy suits. After managing to leave without any suits, the driver insisted that we shop at the jewelry store because our presence there would get him free gas. The manager of the store, who knew the D.C. area well (he had lived there for a while), stopped trying to sell to us when he realized that we were from Silver Spring, not Potomac. Mom got out with some magnets. Was this indeed an elaborate scheme so that everyone involved would benefit from these clueless Americans, or was it just five loosely-connected organizations who wanted us to get cheap suits and jewelry that would cost a fortune in the U.S.? I'll go with the former, but not everyone would agree.

Off to Asia

It's time to say goodbye to Mekele, at least temporarily.

Yesterday morning in Mekele, right outside our house

Coffee shop in Addis, this morning

What a whirlwind two and a half months.  I look at these two pictures and feel nothing but gratitude to be able to enjoy these two views within such close time periods.  When we first arrived in Mekele, I'm sure the boys and Mark - who had never been there before - were surprised at how rural parts of it can seem, and how limited the selection of food, entertainment, etc was. Back then, we didn't have a full appreciation of Addis and its slick coffee shops, malls with movie theaters, and relative abundance of ferenjis.  On our first night in rainy Mekele, we sat down in a dimly lit cafe with a one-person kitchen illuminated by a bare light bulb.  We convinced the boys that the Asia trip was coming, and wasn't that something we could look forward to?  "Let's count down," we said.  So we began; 84, 83, 82, 81....  Somewhere around the end of our first week, the boys had a little street encounter with some rough young fellows who helped themselves to their snacks, taken right out of their hands.  What sort of place is this?, Mark and I wondered.  80, 79, 78...

We stopped counting at around 70, I think.  The rainy season ended.  We established a routine at Operation Rescue, got a dog, made friends, hired house help, and ate the best Ethiopian food ever. In fact, our favorite local haunt is that very restaurant with the bare light bulb where the countdown to Asia commenced.  And suddenly, the Asia trip began to race towards us very quickly.  

And now, I am typing from a very comfortable (if loud) high-rise hotel in the bustling Bole district of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia's capital.  Tomorrow, we leave to Nairobi, Kenya - where I grew up and where Mark and I met as high schoolers - to spend a couple of days with family before heading off to Asia.  We made it.  Day 0.

We have heard lots of encouraging comments from our friends and family throughout these last months.  But we accept these kind comments with a smidgen of guilt.  The truth is that the last months - at least for me - have felt magical.  I'm now convinced that our lives in America were more than a little insane.  All the things that occupied our time were worthy (school functions, soccer, basketball, piano, church, etc), but they peeled minutes and hours of free time away from us so that I always seemed to either be scheduling something in my phone, or running from event to event, prompted by my pinging calendar.  My heart is actually conditioned to beat faster whenever I open that calendar app because I associate it with anxiety.  I'm sure I'm not alone in this.  Friends and I would sometimes look two months in advance for a chance to get together.  I often got told I over-committed, but with all due respect to my friends, it's not like their schedules were any more open.  

But here, our obligations outside of Operation Rescue are so minimal that I almost feel like I don't recognize myself, in a good way.  We laugh more as a family, we have plenty of inside jokes, we are kinder to each other, and if a friend says to come over, we say "Ok".  True, we might sometimes need a break from each other, but all things considered, our collective free time is rejuvenating.  I haven't put anything in my phone calendar for months.  Can you imagine that?

So when people tell us that we're brave or whatever for leaving everything behind and immersing ourselves in another culture for a year, I just feel like if they were fortunate enough to be in our shoes (and I recognize fully that there are PLENTY of practical barriers to this), they would do it in a heartbeat.  I can't completely speak for Mark and the boys, but I have a sense that despite missing a lot of things back in the States, every one of us is content to be here.  We're a lucky bunch.

And I crack up when I think about how we all sat down as a family back when the boys had the snacks (donut-like things called Bombelinos) stolen right from their tender hands.  Mark and I were horrified.  I now think of that sad affair as Bombelino-gate, and remember the thoughtful first reaction of a friend in the States when I told her about it ("Wait, they have donuts in Mekele?").   To make myself get over it, at my brother Moges' encouragement, I imagined what I would say if I was ever mugged in similar circumstances; Officer, they came out of nowhere and grabbed my bombelino right out of my hand!  How could any police officer take seriously a report containing the word "Bombelino"? 

Anyway, the other day, Micah was telling me about how some kids asked for some money recently but he and his bros didn't have any.  I asked how the situation ended, and he told me the boys didn't harass them, they just threw some rocks, but that was all. 

In all seriousness, without excusing poor behavior, these events continue to remind us of what we have, and what others lack.  If you're a dirt poor kid, I suppose you're not always inclined to be polite about it.  That's an important lesson for us, too.

I thought I'd share a few pictures of what's been going on this last week.

A Guy Fawkes celebration at Sarah's house (she's in the blue sweatshirt and cap). 
From left to right: Eli, Daniel, Sarah, John, Pam, Mark, Jake

While shopping for gifts at the market, I finally bought a dress from this little stall.

It's important when gift shopping to gift yourself something, too.

Two of my students really wanted to know where in Asia we were going. Mark showed them.

We hosted a dinner for some amazing people:  

From left to right: Basil, Almaz, Pam, Heywot, Getachew, Hamelmal, Marciano, and Abadi.

Marciano and his wife Christina, the original founders of ORE, worked hand in hand with Getachew, Abadi, and Heywot

to get the project off the ground with nothing but faith 15 years ago.  ORE now serves nearly 1000 children in Ethiopia and has opened centers in Brazil and India.  Pam has been instrumental in 

establishing new programs in Ethiopia.  This is a very dynamic, fun, can-do group of people.

In Addis, with maybe my funniest friend, Zeb Mengistu.

Amazing dinner in Addis hosted by my uncle Hiruy and aunt Mehret. 

Cousin Andy has Micah in a neck-hold to the left.

Hazal.

Mark Takes Tigrinya On

So Marta is making me blog. Posting on this blog is such a daunting challenge that I am a day late in doing it. Sorry. But here goes.

“Farenji!!” (“Foreigner!”) We have heard this literally hundreds of times while walking as a family in Mekele. (We walk everywhere, and every time, I am a farenji.) But you know what? Though Marta has been known to turn and smile, I am in fact the only real farenji in our family. As I have explained to children here, Daniel, Eli, and Micah are ferki (half) farenji, ferki habesha (Ethiopian). Marta, as it happens, is not farenji at all. She is starting to cotton on, and no longer responds as a matter of course to cries of “farenji” when walking with me. Those are for me, thank you very much.

My farenji-ness shows in sunburns and lack of rhythm. But it also shows in language learning. Between being a farenji and being middle-aged, I have struggled with Tigrinya. Marta has an unfair advantage, of course; she has heard Tigrinya for much of her life. But the kids have also lapped me. I typically have to hear words many, many times, AND see them written down (phonetically, in the English alphabet), before they stick. As for the Ethiopian alphabet, forget about it. The boys, meanwhile, seem like magnets, and Eli has recently picked up the alphabet while hardly trying. They have a number of running jokes about my language slip-ups.

This is all to be expected — I am getting older and duller, and Tigrinya is not an easy language. But inability to communicate does not always sit well. I have had to rely on Marta in many situations: to save me in trying to communicate with our wonderful household help, Azeb; to translate in church; to communicate a key point to children at Operation Rescue, where we volunteer; to talk to the plumber. Thank goodness for Marta, but if I’m honest, it’s frustrating at times. And I probably rely on her too much.

With this as a partial motivator, Eli and I recently took an overnight trip to a town about 100 kilometers away to see a famous rock-hewn church. We had been to the area before, with my sister (see a previous post), but had skipped one of the most famous churches in part because not all family members, particularly mothers, were comfortable with reports of steep drop-offs on the climb to this particular church. I promised Eli that we would come back. But I specifically wanted to make the trip on public transport in part to prove that I could accomplish such a venture without the aid of Marta’s language skills.

Sitting on the ledge

The trip was fantastic. Eli was great company. We made the trek up to the famous cliff church, called Abuna Yemata Guh, relying solely on public transport. The drop-offs were as steep as advertised — I don’t think Marta would have done well there; I was a bit nervous myself. Eli skated along, though — no problems and no apparent concern. The views and the church interior were absolutely fabulous. What a place. Here are a couple of pics.

This is how most people navigate the ledge of
the 200 meter drop off

This is Eli on the ledge

And I even used my broken Tigrinya to some effect! I paid fares and obtained correct change. We got to where we were going. I helped French tourists order at a local restaurant. Fellow travelers were friendly, and I was able to repeatedly explain in Tigrinya that we are from America but staying in Mekele; we had visited the area before but Eli’s mother was a bit nervous about the climb to Abuna Yemata; and we had now come back to visit it. Though that was about the extent of it — any further questions and I had pretty much reached the limit of my ability to communicate in Tigrinya. And Eli caught me in a number of conjugation and other slip-ups. But hey, I didn’t hear him trying to speak! And practice makes perfect. Or something.

The nine Syrian saints who brought Christianity to Ethiopia

Painting on a pillar

Kids at Operation Rescue have also been great Tigrinya teachers. After helping with (semi) structured English teaching in the classroom, I often trade a few English words and phrases for Tigrinya help outside. One of Marta’s middle school students has even taken to giving me Tigrinya homework. I failed my first assignment — she wrote “good work” anyway.

Just yesterday, Marta and I attended an informal English class at a house that Operation Rescue runs for orphaned children, or those whose parents are completely unable to care for them. All children at Operation Rescue are from a disadvantaged backgrounds, but most live with a parent or extended family, and are at the project only during the day. But a limited number of children live together in a “cell house” up the road from the main compound; we were invited to visit the house. I again got valuable Tigrinya tips from children and staff. But even more impressive was the loving environment that was evident in the home. The children we met ranged in age from 6 to 17. It was so wonderful to see the older kids help the younger ones — you could tell that the kids there all love each other like siblings. And the staff is incredibly caring. It was a lovely visit; I’m sure we’ll be back.

As Marta has said, if you live in the DC area and want to drop a few children's clothes off at her house in Maryland so her dad can bring it out when he visits, let her know via this blog or facebook and she can get you the details. In our next post, we will provide some more concrete information for anyone who might want to contribute in other ways to Operation Rescue Ethiopia.

This week we were also lucky enough to host Kati and Cord and their three fantastic sons; Xavier, Paco, and Stani.  They came all the way from Austria to spend some time out here.  Kati and Marta met while studying French as teenagers in Geneva and have kept up their friendship since then.  It was great to have them visit Ethiopia.  Their positive outlook, open-mindedness, and appreciation for this amazing country were a great reminder for us of how lucky we are to be here.  And they brought chocolate and maple syrup for us, and lots of goodies for the kids at Operation Rescue Ethiopia.

Switching gears abruptly, Marta says I have to report that Hazal has now been caught by her family pretending to be paralyzed (she wasn’t). They all hate her even more. She threatened to jump into the sea and her birth mother said, “that’d be great.” She didn’t jump; only sulked some more. Poor Hazal. 

Note that as with many things here I know this only because Marta told me so. The soap opera is in Amharic. And if you think I am going to learn that in addition to Tigrinya … then you must have skipped to the bottom of this post for a Hazal update. See above.

P.S.  This from Marta:  She knows that she is not, in fact, a Ferenji, having inhabited brown skin her entire life.  But she is unfailingly polite and hates to ignore children who are trying to connect with the family, albeit in a strange way.

And Mark’s continued efforts to speak the language (more persistently than Marta) will be rewarded, if not in this life, then in the life to come.  For we all know that in Heaven, we will all speak Tigrinya fluently.  Except for Hazal because she won't be there.