You May Live in Rural Africa if…

– first name options include objects, Holidays, and days of the week.

– you have to look up a picture of a squirrel on the internet to explain the American school worksheet to your Kindergartener.

– you no longer barter for your daily produce because they know you’re not a tourist.

– buying said produce involves a semi-formal conversation regarding the vendor’s welfare.

– your name is your job title and your child is respectfully referred to as “girl”.

You may live in rural Africa if…

– you can’t remember what version of British, Kenyan, South African, or American English vocabulary needs to be used in the big city.

– you wake up confused because the rooster did NOT crow at 4a.

– you begin talking to your English-speaking friend in the wrong language without realizing it when trying to figure out directions.

– said directions involving no paved roads and a downed tree as a landmark doesn’t make you flinch.

– you’ve been asked to name a stranger’s newborn baby you just met.

You may live in rural Africa if…

– at least one child has arrived at a destination without shoes, you’re not Afrikaans, and you only notice because the sand is hot.

– all-day shopping only involves a store or two that takes three hours round trip to visit and has 3-4 total aisles.

– your kids giggle while eating broccoli because it’s a rare find of a treat during tourist season.

– a tropical Christmas season is only announced by the Chinese store music and has no curb appeal to the nationals.

– you are asked to carry a 50lb bag of rice, a large grocery sack of raw peanuts, and a sheet-wrapped bundle of ? to someone’s cousin because you mention driving through that city in a few hours.

You may live in rural Africa if…

– the next public toilet is three hours away so you warn the kids to “go now or forever hold your…”-well, you get the idea.

– the stars are brilliant street lights when the sun goes down at 5p.

– you sweep your Sunday school space with a tree branch, kick out rotting fruit, and chase away chickens before laying down a tarp floor for your class.

– finding strawberries or blueberries once a year needs a national holiday marker on the calendar.

– you go to bed a half hour after your kids because, let’s face it, there’s nothing to do.

You may live in rural Africa if…

– you have witnessed unexplainable joy amongst what could be cast off as desperate ruin, but is actually greater depth of perspective than material satisfaction could ever know.

Oh, rural Africa, how we love you despite all your quirks. Thanks for putting up with all of ours as we continue to learn how to live as acceptable foreigners

out here in beautiful, rural Africa.

March 5, 2020 3

Six

Today marks six months of being American Africans. SIX MONTHS!!!!

“Wow, that has gone fast,” my conversant commented.

“FOR YOU!” I joked. 😉

In some moments six months has surprised us and in some moments language school feels like a never-ending endeavor. 😉

Six months looks like having enough language to complete our normal needs/wants/tasks without problems, while still forgetting how to congregate some irregular verbs to say something simple like “I have gone to the doctor before.”

Six months looks like preaching and teaching Sunday School lessons. Some sermons even coming with less than 12 hours of notice. HA!

Six months looks like a toddler experiencing some culture shock, resulting in a regression to diapers again, a promise that this is a phase, and more intentional Mommy snuggles. And by the way, this same toddler is reminding me that she wants underwear sometime soon when she does a good job using the potty, so I am encouraged by the grace she has been extended.

Six months looks like knowing what pizza place the family likes and successfully avoiding some other “less delightful” restaurants in town.

Six months looks like moving beyond introductory language to really starting to learn friends’ testimony’s, cultural superstitions, and understanding different ways of life.

Six months looks like looking at future homeschool curriculum so you’ll be ready to order it when the time comes in the next handful of months. (It takes a while to get here, but it’s still an exciting promise of things on the horizon.)

Six months looks like being SO CLOSE to remembering all of Roman’s Road and culturally appropriate questions regarding these verses to engage others in conversation.

Six months looks like celebrating with ice cream while skyping my best friend and her little boy.

Six months looks like a third grader doing 95% of her homework all by herself and casually reading her first grade sister the Portuguese directions to complete her first grade homework. It also looks like two girls enjoying school, but looking forward to returning to homeschool in English (!!!) as well. 😉

Oh sure, six months still has it’s growing pains, frustrations and challenges to rise above.

But six months also finds this country dripping with home, these pot-holed streets and people not so foreign and these hands still open to whatever God would have us learn

here in Mozambique, Africa.

Thank you, Lord, for six completed months.

Happy six months, FPO family!

April 11, 2017 3

Coberto

It was a regular return trip from the village with our native friends and teachers (the same two lovely people). The littlest girls happily drank their sodas and sang songs. This time since we brought back an extra rider with us, I sat in the front with Matt and our teachers and this traveler sat in the middle of the SUV. All enjoying their cold soda when Matt suddenly stopped the car and popped out without a word. Instantly came Portuguese commentary. “What is he doing?” “What did he see?” We all awaited for the explanation with a mixture of patience and anxious excitement.

Two village men came by to investigate as Matt crouched in the grass between the tire tracks ten feet ahead of the car.

“Oh, not a snake, right?” Came my teacher’s anxiety. I reassured him that there was no way Matt would stop for a snake. He would simply run it over.

One man brought his bicycle closer as Matt returned to the car for a bag. Matt was excited, but still explained nothing. And then I saw it, clinging to the man’s bike as Matt coaxed it into the bag with the help of a man’s bent reed.

Matt returned to the car victoriously. As Matt grew closer, the car got louder.

“He’s not bringing that inside is he?!”

“Oi!!! It’s huge!”

The girls in the back hadn’t seen it yet. The middle of the car was highly unexcited.

He waited semi-patiently in the bag. Don’t anyone, panic, I made a good hole and held it still for the 30 minute ride to the girls’ school. By the end of the trip, when we were dropping off people everyone had settled in fine and were interested in viewing him for themselves.

The older girls celebrated and instantly wanted to hold him. We went to the store and got him a big bowl-house. Once home we collected different colored leaf braches and made him a sweet little home to settle into. And then after letting him settle in for an evening, the next day we offered him our hand. And this happened:

Coberto (like Roberto – Coby for short) means “undercover” in Portuguese so it seemed the most natural choice for his name. And just like that we have added to our zoo here in Mozambique.

The kids ADORE him and are quite respectful and patient in handling him. We just wait and let him choose. Carefully. Gently. One precautious foot in front of the other…

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Welcome to the family, Coberto!

P.S. This is not an April Fools Joke. 😉

April 1, 2017 2

African Cuisine

We had an assignment here at orientation to cook an African meal from scratch. So we decided to stick together as our Sub-Saharan Africa group and make our meal pot-luck style.

We contributed some fresh squeezed lemonade.