Category Archives: Third Culture Kids

Burundian woman hold up an African coil basket made at a refugee camp

How to Make an African Coil Basket: Africa Day 7

In Burundi, coil baskets are used for everything: food storage, transportation, traditional wedding gift wrap, even offering at church.

While I was vising my husband’s brother’s family in Burundi, I had the chance to learn how to make a coil basket from a local expert.

Mama Violette crafts these baskets using what my 11-year-old niece calls “goat rope” (rope made of fibers processed from sisal, a yucca-like plant), grass that grows near the river, and the plastic fiber from coffee sacks.

I asked Mama Violette where she learned to make these baskets. I expected a heartwarming answer about sitting long afternoons with her grandmother. However, she told me that she learned during her time in a refugee camp while Burundi was suffering through a civil war.

Burundian woman making a coil basket Gisuru, Burundi

She takes apart the sacks and straightens the fibers. Most of them are white, but colorful plastic is also available for designs. The durable, waterproof plastic replaces traditional organic materials in most baskets I saw.

Recycling at its finest!

Burundian woman making a coil basket Gisuru, Burundi
Mama Debo helped teach us to weave the baskets.

The basket starts with an inch or so of wrapping the plastic around the rope and grass. Coil the plastic-wrapped rope, thread the plastic through a needle, and stich the coil in place.

coil basket Gisuru, Burundi

The rest of the basket is pretty simple–keep wrapping, putting a stitch through the last round each time. I noticed that Mama Debo and Mama Violette placed one stich evenly though each wrap on the coil below.

Burundian woman teaching American woman to weave a coil basket Gisuru, Burundi

Making a basket takes a lot of time–a full day even for someone experienced. Later during our trip, I purchased a few small baskets from a roadside stand.

Can you guess how much one costs?

Two dollars. That’s all these women make from a day of hard work. That’s a typical wage for people in rural Burundi.

 coil basket Gisuru, Burundi

Mine wasn’t quite so neat, but it looked a lot better than my first attempt at a coil basket, which I tried to make with agave fibers from a plant in my yard. If you want to take a peek and laugh, visit this post.

coil basket Gisuru, Burundi

One of my nieces added some color to her basket. I was endlessly impressed by her creativity and knack for crafting. Aside from her new skill of basketry, she actually processes “goat rope” from sisal herself, dyes it using natural pigments she makes from nature, and weaves them into bracelets.

Burundian woman making a coil basket Gisuru, Burundi

Making a full basket would take a beginner like me days–even this little bit was the result of a couple of hours of work. So I decided to stop and turn it into a keychain.

Mama Violette helped me finish it off.

She and Mama Debo inspected my work, saying “Ni sawa.” I thought that meant I had not a fantastic job, but apparently it means. “That’s alright.” Hey, for a first attempt, I’ll take it!

Burundian woman making a coil basket Gisuru, Burundi

Now, I carry around this little souvenir on my keys wherever I go!

However, my main takeaway from this project wasn’t a physical item, or even a new skill.

Even though I couldn’t have a conversation with Mama Debo or Mama Violette, they were content to sit on the porch with me and communicate however we needed to, patiently helping me learn each step of basketmaking. Despite the many differences in our lifestyles, experiences, and backgrounds, they did not make me feel like an outsider.

Instead, we enjoyed a project together, connecting over a shared interest.

No matter the differences between us, we have more in common than we might think.

Africa Day 1: 30 Hours in Transit

Africa Day 2: Crossing Burundi

Africa Day 3: A Dowry Ceremony

Africa Day 4: A Burundian Wedding

Africa Day 5: Gisuru School for the Deaf

Africa Day 6: How to Make Mudbricks

30 Hours in Transit: Africa Day 1

We’re in Africa! We’ve been looking forward to this trip for nine years, and we’re finally here.

Kirundi word of the day: Amahoro (hello)

Fun fact: It takes 30 hours to get from Glendale, Arizona to Bujumbura, Burundi.

Actually, it should take longer than that if you schedule long enough layovers– I don’t recommend sprinting across Chicago O’Hare Airport toting six carryon bags and an angry preschooler to catch a connecting flight.

Little Man was happy for most of the trip 🙂

If you’ve been following for a while, you might remember a previous post announcing that we’d be in Kenya for six weeks last spring. Well, that didn’t work out. But the Africa vacation to Burundi and Tanzania that we’re taking now is turning out to be much better than trip to work in the hospital would have been!

Helping with the luggage

Ben was born in Burundi and lived here until he was four, when his family was displaced to Tanzania during the war. In fact, he lived in the house where I’m writing this– his father built it on the family’s mission station 30 years ago and now his oldest brother lives here. But being born in Burundi gives Ben more than just a passport that makes border agents do a double-take. It’s also given him a lifelong connection to a place that will always feel like home.

It took three hours to get through the Bujumbura airport

After our long trip to Bujumbura, Burundi, we finally managed to extricate ourselves from the airport to find the people who would pick us up. To my joy, I saw eight family members waiting for us in the parking lot, where they had spent hours so they could be sure to greet us! We haven’t seen some of the nephews in six years, so our drive to their home a few miles away was a happy reunion.

Bujumbura, Burundi

Keep following to hear about the rest of our Africa adventures! We’ll be here for a whole month traveling between several locations.

You can also sign up for my newsletter in the sidebar to get new posts sent monthly to your inbox.

Africa Day 1: 30 Hours in Transit

Africa Day 2: Crossing Burundi

Africa Day 3: A Dowry Ceremony

Africa Day 4: A Burundian Wedding

Africa Day 5: Gisuru School for the Deaf

Coming Full Circle in Africa

I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about Africa. For one thing, I’m writing a novel about an American kid in a Kenyan boarding school. For another, we’re planning on taking a trip to East Africa in the spring. Ben is allowed a residency rotation overseas, and obviously, he picked going home!

Ben near Lake Tanganyika in his hometown

It’s hard to believe we haven’t been to Africa since 2013! For someone like Ben, who grew up there, eight years is a long, long time to stay away. We were the only ones to miss the last family reunion, thanks to Ben’s med school schedule. And when you have 35 people in your immediate family (hope I added that right), living in six countries across three continents, it’s quite a bummer to mess up an opportunity to get a family photo where nobody’s photoshopped in.

Visiting a Burundian national park. Ben’s grandfather helped to start it after WWII.

Fortunately for Ben, even though it’s been a long time since he’s used Swahili on the daily, he does have frequent opportunities to use it at work. There are many people from Congo in our city, and whenever someone shows up to the hospital, Ben is able to conduct exams in a language they are more comfortable using. I, on the other hand, am getting pretty rusty. You know, rusty on the hundred or so words I actually know in Swahili. Looks like I have some work to do if I want to be able to practice any conversational skills at all while we’re there!

Swinging on vines – not just in movies!

We’re excited to go to Africa, introduce our son to the continent, and revisit the places Ben grew up. But one of the coolest things about this trip is that Ben will get to work at the very hospital where his life was saved, where he realized his calling into medicine. Over a decade ago, he was laying in one of the beds with a IV in his arm, recovering from spinal meningitis and watching the staff go about their daily tasks. He knew he wanted to use the second chance at life to pour into patients, just like those doctors and nurses. And now he gets to go back to the same hospital and do just that.

Lake Nakuru National Park in Kenya

Isn’t it amazing how God redeems our circumstances? Sometimes we never see how he does it, but other times life comes back full-circle and we can see how to worst days of our lives change us into the people we are supposed to be.

Just for fun, here are some of my favorite photos from our 2013 visit to Burundi, Kenya, and Tanzania.

Post Hurricane Thoughts

Well, I’m probably over-posting on Facebook about Hurricane Irma and the devastation it caused in Saint Martin. I have an awful lot to say about it, though, especially as new updates keep coming through. I figure if you want to know what I have to say about the situation, you’ll read this. And look– here you are!

 

Med Students are OK

After a semi-sleepless night a couple days ago and plenty of tears, I finally started hearing from friends who had been out of contact for a day after the storm.

The people who sheltered in American University of the Caribbean are safe, and not only that, anyone with any medical training (even first semester med students) are volunteering in a makeshift clinic! They even delivered a baby! What a birth story.

Many of the students, spouses and kids were able to evacuate to Puerto Rico. Many others, mostly students, stayed behind.

 

 

 

Tom and Lisa are OK

If you follow me on social media, you probably know a bit about Tom and Lisa Burnett, who ran Player Development Program in Sint Maarten.

I used to go there most days to tutor and mentor the kids. Player Development blew away and the pieces are yet to be found.

But Tom and Lisa (plus their four dogs) are safe! I could breathe easier after I found that out. Their neighborhood was hit very hard.

They survived the storm huddled on a mattress under their table, both of them plus of the four dogs. They stayed there all day, through the storm and even after their roof was ripped off. I am shaking right now just thinking about it.

 

 

 

Still Waiting to Hear from Local Friends

I started following more SXM residents on social media to keep up with videos and photos. Many people seem to be OK and in shelter, but strictly rationing food and water, and in perhaps in pain.

The need help but it is hard to know what to do. Samaritan’s Purse has a fund now, and I they are delivering much needed help! If you want to help, give to them. But I haven’t heard much else, although a friend of mine with a Canadian Rotary Club is planning to try to ship down supplies and suggested that I call my local airport to see which airlines are willing to ship relief supplies down.

I haven’t heard from too many people since the main cell tower was taken out by the storm, and the power company as well, I believe.

Our former foster son, Roland and Laura Richardson, the families from my baseball team, the foster homes, the staff at the medical school, and many other friends still aren’t online yet. So keep praying.

I just keep thinking about how bad I’ve been at communication lately. My life is so out of control right now and I put everyone else on the back burner. I guess you don’t realize you’re doing that until your friends are in a life-threatening situation and you remember that the last thing you said was some stupid thing about doughnuts or worse, nothing at all for the past few weeks.

There’s nothing like the fear that you might have lost someone to make you think of all the stuff you wish you said to them last week.

 

 

 

I’m Grieving

I think I’m going through the stages of grief. I’m partially in denial, because how can those photos be real when they don’t match my memories? That flooded street covered in debris was a sunlit lane when I walked down it just a few months ago.

I can close my eyes and go back to the way it was. I can see and hear and feel and smell every part of the island.

I can hear the way it sounds to knock on the door of one of my baseball kid’s house. In my mind it is still there.

I can feel the gravel at player development under my feet and see the books and toys and everything.

I can see the view from my old balcony like I am standing there again. Pretty sure that balcony blew away.

I can taste the shawarmas at Little Jerusalem and hear the “clink, clink” of Abe and Cathy chopping up meat on the grill.

But then there are those photos of the destruction, the videos of the looting. It’s hard to reconcile.

 

 

 

I Should Be There

And there is this overwhelming sense of guilt, because somehow I feel like I am supposed to be there.

Maybe I wouldn’t be saying this if I’d actually gone through it, but I’d rather have stuck out the day in AUC, where the hurricane shelter was strong and safe, than be here wondering and waiting and watching from afar.

I’d rather be out dragging palm fronds off the street right now. Or something else useful. Maybe that sounds dumb, and maybe it is dumb.

It’s stupid to want to be stuck on an island when so many people are suffering and desperately awaiting help and wanting to leave.

I feel stupid. And useless.

People reading this are probably going to think I’m trying to be some kind of weird martyr or something, but I think I’m just really emotional and stressed out.

I actually called Jet Blue yesterday to find out if I can fly down and when, but I couldn’t get through because they’re too busy handling the crisis.

I don’t even know what I would do if I did go. It’s not like they need more people to use up rations, anyway.

So anyway, now we’re both depressed, you’re welcome. Maybe I should go back to journaling instead of blogging.

That’s what things look like from my perspective.

Now just waiting for Irma to hit Florida, and I can’t wait until that is done and the power is back and I can hear from everyone.

 

Photo Credit Flash Meteo Antilles

We’re Foster Parents

If you haven’t figured in out by now, Ben and I are foster parents! We’ve been enjoying the company of a teen boy for about six months, who you may have seen mentioned vaguely as “R” in some of my recent posts. I haven’t talked about this explicitly, mostly because I’m not really sure how to talk about it in a public forum. For one thing, our son is a teenager in a small community, we’re Facebook friends with a lot of his friends, and all the kids around here are all over the internet. I don’t really want to be “that mom” and write things that are potentially embarrassing. Secondly, as the rest of you foster moms know, there’s a lot of obligatory privacy when it comes to foster kids. You have to follow the rules, and you have to be respectful. So I’ve opted not to talk about it thus far. However, this is a really big part of my life, and I think it’s good to talk about the foster parent experience. So I’m going to be posting a lot more about foster parenting here, and hopefully creating an element of camaraderie with other foster moms.

So what is it like to be a foster parent? Well, that’s hard to answer. Our situation is very, very different than most peoples’. However, I’d be kidding myself if I said that being a unique foster family is, well, unique. Everybody has a distinct experience with its own joys and challenges. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that you can’t put the foster-family lifestyle in a box!

For us, we’re a cross-cultural family. This wasn’t much of a stretch for us. Ben and I already have learned to enjoy and appreciate our own cultural differences. With our son, there’s also a difference in nationality. Ben and I are expats in the Caribbean, and our son is from here. We’ve had to learn to navigate the system in a place that is very different from the United States, but thankfully we’ve had wonderful people from the children’s service organization who are very kind to us as we pick through the cultural obstacle course.

We’re also a young couple fostering a teen. We’ve experienced some judgement from people who don’t think we should be taking on this kind of responsibility, but ultimately, we don’t dwell on those voices. Fostering has taught me that no matter what you do and no matter what your motives are, people are going to find fault with you. You can’t let it get you down. Listen to concerns of people who care about you, but in the end you just have to do what you know is right for your family. And guess what? It’s gone beautifully. If you’ve never considered fostering teens, why not look into it? I never thought I’d be good at this, but it’s one of the best experiences of my life.

We’re in med school. As one of my college professors used to say, “It will never be the ideal time to start having kids.” Doesn’t matter if they’re biological or not. Of course, there are some things that have to be in place, by law, in order for you to foster. But you don’t have to have a house or a massive income! You just have to have an extra room and be able to take care of yourself. Med school isn’t the ideal time to do anything, really, but we decided we just have to live our lives and not act like we’re on pause.

We’re pioneers. As far as I know, we’re the first foreigners to foster here. I think we’re the first who ever asked. Also, the program is fairly new. So learning how this works for us is a process. There’s a lot of uncertainty about things. We just have to take stuff day by day, which is hard for me to process—I love planning everything about two years in advance! It’s a learning experience for me, and a growing experience. I never know what to expect and I’m learning to walk in faith.

We’re Living by Faith. I have to take every step before I can see where it will land, which is scary. It’s easy to say that I know God will lead me and take care of me, but it’s hard to act on it. However, as Pricilla Shirer teaches in The Armor of God (my current Bible study book), faith is an ACTION. Faith has little to do with my ability to believe really hard and everything to do with God’s faithfulness. If I trust in that faithfulness, I can take the action God is asking me to take before I see the outcome. So that is what we are doing. We have to live by faith and do the things God wants us to do. Ever since we first felt God leading us in that direction, we’ve had to take steps before we had assurance that things were going to work out. Financial commitments and time commitments had to be made before we even knew if we were going to be certified. And it worked out. We’re still up against unknowns every day, but we are trusting God to work those out, too.

What about you? Are there any other foster families out there? I’d love to hear your story, too!

Exploring Tall Ships in French Saint Martin

Saint Martin is an island with plenty to do! There are often fun activities to participate it, when you know how to find them. This weekend’s activity was a free tour of three tall ships in Galis Bay!

After Coach Tom told me about this excursion, I decided to take R and head over to Marigot to tour the ships. Ben couldn’t come because he had to study, but Dan, another med school spouse at American University of the Caribbean, joined us with his two girls.

The Ships

We got to tour three ships during our Sunday afternoon excursion. The first was a big, green pirate-looking vessel from Germany called Alexander von Humboldt II. The four-year-old was entirely convinced it was an actual pirate ship, although she made sure the rest of us understood that there’s no such thing as a real pirate anymore.

Living on a ship sounds rather restrictive, but I could actually envision surviving a long trip on this boat. The crew’s quarters below were pretty tiny, but it didn’t look too terrible. Plus, the view from the deck is fantastic– I could totally look at that every day. An unobstructed view the the ocean is just unbeatable. R, of course, is all about that ship life. He’s excited about a future in the Coast Guard. I think he’d do it even without the view. Of course, it doesn’t hurt…

The other two ships, Frederick Chopin and the Wylde Swan, were a bit smaller, but no less impressive. They also had more interesting steering wheels, which was all that mattered the the four-year-old.

The Wylde Swan also had a great kitchen area, and whatever they were cooking down in the galley smelled delicious.

The Wheels

The most important part of the entire tour, according to the four-year-old, was the steering wheel on each ship. I think she would have stayed there all day if her dad had let her!

Each wheel was a bit different. I was surprised that the wheels still looked like old-fashioned wooden wheels. I wonder if that is standard, or if most ships (even sailing ships) have more modern wheels.

I have to say that I was pretty thrilled to see the typical old wheels still in use! They have a distinctly nautical beauty about them.

Other Instruments

There were other interesting ship’s instruments, too, beside the wheels. The baby loved the compasses, which were pretty cool.

I really liked the ropes. There were so many of them! I’ve read a lot of books about ships, but I haven’t been on too many of them. I’m always surprised at how much rope holds the ships together.

I really wanted to climb up into the rigging. Of course, I didn’t (seriously) consider it. We estimated that I’d get about halfway up before somebody dragged me down. You know, they did say that we could go anywhere on the ship, and they never said the rigging was off limits…. ah, if only I didn’t have a reputation to worry about!

These are the kind of days when I wish I could stay here forever. I want to spend my whole life wandering around ships and looking at the view!

The island life is a wonderful life, and the sea is a glorious place to be! If my adventures have taken me to the deck of a ship in the Caribbean, where else will they take me? Only God knows. Too bad he’s not spilling the beans yet!

For now, I’m loving every moment of this Caribbean life. What a fun afternoon! Ships are pretty cool. Thanks to everyone who made it possible for us to explore these ships for free!