relatives

The theory of relativity, all things are relative; we throw those terms around, but living here gives them new meaning to me.  I'm constantly comparing the things I'm seeing and doing to how things are 'at home'.  I often compare them to each other here as well.  Homes especially.
We're in peoples' homes on a regular basis now, and as I've described before they are generally simple one or two room places.  Some are of concrete block construction, others are wood.  They are typically very small, what would serve as a regular bedroom in most of our homes may be the entire home, but most do have two rooms.  I base my measurement estimates on the plywood sheets that make up most ceilings, and in many cases the walls.  They are 4'x8' sheets of a very thin plywood, very similar to what is used on cheap hollow core interior doors 'at home'.  Using those it's pretty easy to estimate the size of a space.  Today we were in the largest home we've seen so far, but it was serving a large extended family, so the individual family spaces were still very small.  It was also the dirtiest we've been in.  The most basic home we've seen is that of a new mother whose husband (very few are actually married, but they refer to one another as husband and wife) left her just before the baby was born two weeks ago.  It reminds me of a single stall in a horse barn, and she lives there with the baby and her two other children, and it is probably the neatest and one of the cleanest we've been in.  The large home we were in today also reminded me of a horse barn, both in construction and cleanliness.
Cleanliness is another of those relative terms.  It's difficult in this environment to ever really feel clean, but after a 'shower' it's amazing how clean we actually feel.  Refreshed might be a better word, but I feel cleaner here than when we were in Garoua.  And when people choose to dress up it is amazing how clean they appear.
There's also the bathroom situation.  The room with the four inch hole that serves as a toilet is a nasty place that is never pleasant to visit.  But next door they are are outside, behind a building, in the mud, with no privacy.  I haven't examined it too closely, but I see them bathing there as well, and that can't be too pleasant.
Relativity applies to our food as well.  A banana, the doughnuts (deep fried dough balls) we buy from street vendors, our morning bread, all bring us pleasure, but aren't things we crave 'at home'.  On the other hand, our basic cooking and menu here have us wishing for some of the things Rebecca made, and neither are things we'd choose there.
On Sunday we will leave for our next destination, then there are two more places we will visit before returning to Garoua.  We they be better or worse than what we've become accostomed to, and in many respects comfortable with here?  It's all relative.
Spiritually, our time here has been both rewarding and frustrating.  We have seen many lives changed by Jesus.  We pray those changes will be lasting because one of the frustrations is a lack of followup and discipling.  We've heard many of the 'arguments' against Christianity heard at home; hypocrisy, contradictions in doctrine and theology, etc, which should cause all of us Christians pause, but God is greater.  We've also come up against the very real effects of witchcraft, occultism, and sorcery which are so much a part of African culture, but, we are seeing many breakthroughs.  I have enjoyed the many opportunities we've been given to meet, pray with, and encourage people.  I thank you for your prayers as well, because we know that we could not be doing much of this without the support of those prayers.

The woman behind Beth is the mother of the infant, and that is the door to her 'horse stall' home.

Previous picture is looking just to Beth's left, the courtyard serves six homes.

Walking to the next 'rendezvous'.  Guinea border crossing is straight ahead, the apartments in the background are in Guinea.

Waiting on the next appointment in the home whose door is partially cut off in the photo's right edge

Where our delicious bread comes from every morning.  The loaves in the foreground are waiting their turn to be slid into the oven on the paddle.  The man on the lower left cleans, counts, and sorts them when they come out.  Dirt floor, no lights, I don't know when their day begins, but we're glad they're here.