Elections ...

(Since I started this October 30, it is down here. But I just updated it this morning. I'm not a physic!)

Don't worry - since I never got excited about either candidate, I'm not getting on a soap box for one or the other. Besides, I have a really cute kitten curled up on my feet - how could I get mean? but I thought I'd throw out a few random thoughts and questions -

Must the Republicans despair?

Must the Democrats be ecstatic?

Why do we put so much faith or have such despair over one man . . . a mere human being? Who exactly are we supposed to have faith in? Aren't there enough checks and balances to keep us from being too lopsided? Aren't we supposed to pray for whoever wins? Aren't we free enough to do amazing things for the issues that mean a lot to us?


In Morocco, the elections were very closely watched - literally. We know Moroccans who have woken up at 3:00 AM to watch the debates. It seems everyone was buzzing with expectation. I'm sure many stayed up all night last night to watch.

On BBC, they had a "play-by-play" account of what to look for each hour of the night.

And after all the international interest, the exit polls said the economy was the major factor - not the wars or international issues. That seemed like a slap in the face to the rest of the world who watched with baited breath. But I think they'll get over it because . . .


The name "Barack" means "blessing" in Arabic and is a word we use daily in our greetings and "thank-yous." This simple fact seems to reach Arabs right at the heart.


It seems that everyone on this side of the ocean is for Barack Obama. Recently I heard a Moroccan say something like - "Almost every single conflict in the world has the America's finger in it." The quote got my attention because so many times I've heard something like, "Almost every single conflict in the the world involves Muslims." To hear the opposite made me think. Wow - that is how we are perceived. Whether true or not, people perceive Obama as someone who will "stop attacking Muslims" simply because he is of the opposite party as Bush Sr. & Jr.

And so it is rather nice, for one day anyway, to not be hated by the rest of the world.

Why can't there be a strong third party? Why do we have to pick between abortion or more wars? Why do conservative Christians have to end up on the ballot with capital punishment and the NRA?

Back to the third party - I think the Friesen family should start one. After all, we're 200 + strong!

But no, we couldn't do that - Aren't Mennonites are to stay out of politics? (Isa 40:23 - "He brings princes to naught and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing.")


What is the church vs. the government's role in bringing loving solutions to problems like war, poverty, environmental issues and abortion?

I'm always amazed at the triumph of public health in the area of smoking. To turn an entire nation's view around is really something. How could that be carried into areas like abortion? Are there other ways to change a nation's behavior besides the top-down approach?

After all, Jesus was not an earthly ruler nor did He have any earthly power, but he still managed to change the world.

Sad to say, I think it's unrealistic and naive to say that we can pull out of any war very fast.


I was disturbed to find on various sites the candidates have lots about Iraq and Iran - but precious little about Afghanistan except that they'll bomb it some more. Great. That's just what they need. I don't think either candidate thought very hard about this topic.


My brother there says that while troops are necessary, the only way to 'win' this war is by helping with their infrastructure. As long as Afghans don't have schools, roads, water, electricity (his area), people will be restless and turn to the Taliban for help. The US is doing these things, but not nearly in proportion to military moves. Knowing that he and his family risk their lives every day to bring about peace in that country humbles me and brings me to my knees.



When I look at the choices here on earth, I get very depressed. No system, no human, nothing can even come close to God's ideals. We just can't get it right on earth. It leads me again and again to pray, "Your kingdom come!!!"

"For dominion belongs to the Lord and he rules over the nations." Ps 22:28


Whew!

Duh!

After three out of four members of our family have had run-ins with gravity this past month, I decided it was my turn to do something exciting.


Last Thursday I took a friend to Meknes to see a doctor. Another friend accompanied us. Afterwards we ate lunch at my brother's house and when we came out to the car we realized that someone had stolen Jack's backpack and Lousia's purse. Why? Because someone (yours truly) forgot to lock. Ifrane is such a safe town we kind of get lax about such things. Duh!!! So after a long police debate about what district this occurred in (no one knew), we went to one police station to report the crime and get the paperwork for Lousia's stolen residency card started.

At the first station there were two women bolistically screaming at each other. On-lookers seemed amused more than anything else. I reminded myself that Moroccans have no problem with yelling, storming out of the room or otherwise showing their anger. Once inside, one policeman took down all the details on a scratch piece of paper. Then they decided we needed to go to the other district office.


At the second office, we were shown into a room where, behind a desk, a man lay flat on the floor, handcuffed, and bleeding at the mouth. "Have a seat!" said the policeman cheerfully. Once he realized the man was back there, he changed his mind and just as happily told us we could go to another room. Beating and questioning go hand-in-hand here for Moroccans under suspicion. Before I left, I took one last look at the man - actually, boy - bleeding on the floor. What had he done? Was he just a teenager who did something stupid? He reminded me of my students when I first started teaching - capable of doing bad things, but still so in need of attention and love.

We were then ushered into a dark little room crammed full with four grubby desks and their accompanying policeman. One unused printer sat on some stairs going who-knows-where. Ancient typewriters sat here and there, an old file cabinet hugged the corner, and two mismatched yellow curtains hung from the windows.

At our desk sat our policeman who used a total of three typewriters to complete our report. One was for the Arabic version, one for the French and the other - I don't know. He asked me were I was born. "Afghanistan" I replied. He looked at me like I had just stepped of a spaceship. Jack quickly explained in fluent Arabic. Father's name? The policeman assumed it was "Herb Reimer" because women keep their father's name in marriage. Had to get that changed. Then on to Lousia who is Hong Kong-born but a Canadian citizen. That pretty much blew his mind too. Then Lebanese/Sudanese/American Jack was next. I'm guessing by that time the policeman was ready for some seriously strong coffee. Meanwhile a policewoman kept walking up and down the halls in a leather jacket, an above-knee leopard-print dress, fishnet tights and spiked high-heeled boots. I think she's seen one-to-many American spy movies.


All said and done 3 1/2 hours later, we wearily headed back up the hill to Ifrane.

The next morning I took Lousia to Azrou to complete several more hours of paperwork. I looked around for screaming women. Yep, there were some. Must be the police station. We were told we need a copy of a document which we had to buy at a nearby bookstore. After walking there and back, the man said now she needed pictures. So off we went again. Once back the policeman informed us we needed stamps from yet another store - but, frightened by the looks on our faces, quickly offered to get them himself. Another reminder to myself: Efficiency is not value in Morocco. The sooner I accept that, the less likely I will become insane.


Then our friend Mike met us to help complete things. On the way a woman asked him to buy her daughter for 400 DH ($50). For the night? For the day? Whatever the case, we all felt nauseous.


Mike also explained to us that the reason they are so picky with paperwork is that the Moroccan government is paranoid about keeping tabs on Moroccans to prevent terrorism and on foreigners to encourage tourism.


A few hours after our arrival, paperwork in hand, we left the office - with one more cultural experience tackled. And yes, I had remembered to lock the car.

Rain, rain...

For those of you who saw us this summer - remember how we said it is like perpetual fall here? Remember when we whined that we never get thunderstorms? Remember that we said it barely rains or snows except January - April?

Well, forget all that.

To back up a bit, when we arrived on July 5, 2006 we had no rain until late October. Last year was better, but not by much. Twenty years into a drought, the last few years have been the most brutal on Morocco. Springs are drying up. Villages are running out of water. Farmers fight the land. Entire lakes have disappeared - three in our immediate area alone. Living on the edge of the world's largest and ominously growing desert adds fear to an already stark situation. Day after day, Morocco's gorgeous cobalt-blue skies have seemed to mock the country.


But right now, all that is forgotten. Morocco has had so much rain and wild storms in the last two months that roads have been washed out, bridges down south torn apart, people's possessions and food have been carried away, entire crops washed away, and, in the north, there have been multiple drownings.

Wondering how much rain it takes to reverse a 20-year drought, I was told it will take about 10 years of this.

Two weeks ago, we had a terrific hurricane-like storm. Rain came horizontally from opposite sides on the house, the thunder roared and the lightning was almost continuous. The next day, tree branches were down and leaves were scattered all over the roads. But that was not all.

The rain in another part of town turned into a flash flood which roared down a ravine in Ifrane and raged right through the poorest neighborhoods. Built in stair-step fashion, many of the lower houses have one high window much like a basement window that looks into the neighbor's yard. As the muddy waters descended, they rushed in through the high windows of these homes and, with no place to go, filled the lowest houses up with rushing water and mud. Our church, with the help of some from the USA, helped fund the replacement of furniture in three of the worst-hit homes. Below are pictures and stories from our visit to these places after they had recovered a bit.


Meet Badr, and 18-year-old who has cerebral palsy. At the time of the flood, he and his three siblings were in the house alone. When the water gushed in, his siblings ended up clinging onto the window above while holding he and his mattress up as well. You can see the water mark just to the right of the window. Keep in mind that most Moroccans cannot swim. Mercifully, neighbors broke through the window and pulled the terrified Badr and his siblings out. Most windows have metal bars on them - thank God this one did not.
At the second home we visited, the teenage girls insisted we all get henna. This girl did mine and at the same time the others were practically forcing me to eat - a rather difficult thing to do when one hand has wet henna (you can't touch anything) and the other is being decorated! This father was about to go to the mosque when his elder son begged him to stay. A few minutes later, the entire house filled with water and mud. The littlest was strapped on the mother's back, and with the father's help, they all got out. Later the governor would not come and visit this community whose houses had been flooded, possessions destroyed, and food ruined (except for one loaf of bread which floated to the very top of the house because it was in a plastic bowl). This man stood in front of the governor's car and refused to move until the governor got out and spoke with him. As a result, the entire neighborhood was given flour and other food.
The furniture our church and folks back in the States bought. The mat on the floor is plastic. The reason for the houses being flooded - we are entering from one person's courtyard and going down into the neighbor's house. The water gushed down the stairs and into the window "like a river." The window at the left is where Badr and his siblings were pulled out.

I used to think a flood was just a lot of water. But it's so much more than that - mud, sewage, debris. But we are so thankful to God that none of these precious people died.

Diane

Stan & Diane just a few years ago. See if you can pick out the one who lived in Afghanistan...

American Gothic - classic

My sister-in-law, Diane, just had a birthday a few days ago marking 50 years of a beautiful life. She and Stan (my brother - the guy she keeps ending up in pictures with) started dating when I was about 5 years old so Diane has been around or in my family for almost my entire memory! I was in awe of her beauty on her wedding day when I got to be a junior bridesmade and have been in awe of her ever since. Kind, gentle, easily humored, easy-to-talk-to, wise, hospitable, a great mother, etc., etc - what a lovely lady!

Update since August

Greetings from cold, rainy Ifrane where they have just turned the apartment heat on in the evenings and nights. They turn it off in the day which is OK because most people are gone and those who are here just bundle up!

I figured it is time for an update since we got back.

Gerald - Well, if you've read the last entry, you know that Tarzan has a torn ligament. He is quite swollen and bruised above the cast, but we think that is because he hasn't been elevating it high enough. Today is rainy, so my goal is to get him home without another cast! (The walkways on campus are very slippery in the rain.)

Because of poor results of swinging on branches, Gerald has decided to keep his day job. And that part is going very well. Work seems to be under control unlike the last two years, and he even has time to fit in language lessons with a student.

Julie - I spend much of my time homeschooling Kendra. Otherwise I hit the language books. Now it's French - not that I've learned Arabic, but because I have to keep up with Katrina's homework! And there's always the stream of company and kids coming through the house which I've gotten so used to that I think I would melt of loneliness if it were any other way!

Katrina - Bops off to school (one safe block away) every day with all her little friends. The contrast between the start of this year and last is remarkable. She is so confident and happy this time around (last year full immersion into the French system was rather painful). She also now has a special Arabic class with the non-Moroccans. She was a bit insulted about this at first, but now she is happy.

Kendra - Goes happily to a Moroccan school in French two mornings a week. The other three mornings she is homeschooled in English. In the afternoons we work on Arabic & French with a tutor or a computer.

Katrina fell two weeks ago knocking out a baby tooth and knocking a permanent one sideways. We are hoping this will correct itself over time. Kendra fell a week before that and hit her head on our tile floor - so naturally, we are quite concerned about our recent accident history! I hope this pattern stops!

Ramadan, weather & wells - all have affected us recently. More on those subjects in the next entries.

Tarzan's Bad Day

Yesterday we went off to the woods with our friend Misty for a walk. Of course, I use the term "walk" loosely since most of the time is spent jumping across water, climbing trees and exploring. After quite a long time, Kendra was asking to go home so we had finally decided to actually listen to her and turn around to head back to the car.


That was when Gerald spotted the branch. It was perfect, really - reaching across the stream beckoning him to swing. Checking the elasticity of the branch, he decided it would pull him across the stream for a fun ending to our fun day. Right before he took off, he turned to the girls and said, "Look girls! A physics lesson!" So off Tarzan went - sailing across the stream when we all heard a loud "Crack!" and watched in horror as Gerald fell into the shallow rocky stream. Though it was not a long fall, it appeared that he landed on his neck and head. The look on his face told me he was in pain. Upon reaching him, the first thing he said to me is that his hands were tingling which made me even more afraid. I checked his head for bleeding and there was none. Thank God his head and neck were fine. Then he said it was his ankle that felt injured. Somehow it must have landed first, twisted and taken the fall. Submerged in the cold water, we decided to leave his foot there until we figured out what to do.


Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw about 8 Moroccan and French picnickers running towards us, so I stepped out of the way as they lifted him out of the stream. Once Gerald was out of the water, I was trying to figure out what Gerald needed and they were all offering suggestions in French and Arabic which was very confusing. After they had asked several times if I can drive (women don't normally drive here), one man ended up giving the girls and me a ride back to our car which was quite far away. When we arrived back at the scene, the biggest man had decided to carry Gerald in spite of his protests that he could simply limp using them as crutches. But they were determined give as much help as possible, so off Gerald went, piggy-back-style over a stream, across a rocky, rough terrain, up a little hill and back down on a rocky slope to deliver him to the car.


We returned home where Misty stayed to take care of the girls while we made the one-hour trip to Meknes though Gerald was still muddy, wet and cold. Ron called a bone clinic so they were ready for us when we arrived at 6:30 pm. We tried not to think about the complete lack of protection for Gerald in the x-ray room, the dirt on the walls and the extremely long, steep hallway up and back down that Gerald was wheeled to for the x-ray. Thankfully, Gerald had not broken any bones, but the swelling was so severe that the doctor diagnosed it as a torn ligament and a bad sprain. We were also grateful that Ron came to the hospital to translate and that they were able to lend us some crutches once Gerald was bumped out of the hospital on the rampless exit.



So now Gerald has to wear a cast (in spite of his protests) to immobilize his ankle for three weeks, use crutches for one week, and not play sports for three months. The university campus is NOT handicapped-access able as all the buildings - even his first floor office - have at least 10 steps to go up first. All his classes are on the second floors and of course there are no elevators. But the big problem is the tile walkways which become terribly slick when it rains. Several fully healthy people have wiped out on these in the two years we've been here.



But overall, we are very, very thankful that the injury was not to his head or neck and that the bones in his ankle are not broken. He has not been in very much pain, either - mostly just a numbness, stiffness and heaviness which leads to a dull throbbing.

Apparently right after Gerald fell, Katrina looked at Misty and said, "He should not have done that." As far as the science lesson goes, I guess the girls did not learn too much about elasticity, but they did learn about gravity, dead branches, ankle x-rays and ligaments.

Tarzan resting comfortably. Me, Jane, must go now.

Aaaaaaah!

Rainforests & Hillsboro

Yes, I know those two things don't go together - but I realized that I had thought I was doing another entry on the NW but never did, but I had to stick these pics somewhere! Back to Vancouver for just a minute - a random man on the Capilano walking bridge which spans a gorgeous gorge way, way below. The NW rainforest is the only temperate rainforest in the world meaning you get all the beauty without all the heat, stickiness and mosquitoes of a tropical rainforest.
Once across the bridge, we explored the "treetop adventure" on swinging bridges high up in the rainforest trees - definitely a favorite of the girls and their cousins!

Back to Kansas - and to Hillsboro where our friend Hope has recently moved to a lovely apartment.
Dinner with some friends and family in Mom's house. The young man on the front right is a refugee whom Mom and Dad knew for many years. Blinded by a rocket that hit their house and killed his family several years ago, life was very hard for him as he drifted from country to country, often homeless. Mom helped get him to the USA where he stayed with her the first several months. Now he has moved to Wichita where he has a job. At first it didn't look like the job would work because the noise of the factory reminded him too much of war sounds. But with a set of earplugs and the assurance that he is safe, he is able to work. Between dealing with this situation, other needs overseas, company all summer long (including us), Mom has been very busy. Hopefully she is getting a bit of a rest this fall!

Mom has had a grandson around the last several years since my nephew, Dustin, attended Tabor College just down the street from her. Now that Dustin has graduated - my niece, Emily, has moved to Hillsboro to start college!

Mom reading to the girls - always embelishing and keeping up with Katrina's stream of questions!
This, my friends, is the first-ever picture of its kind. Why?

1. Mom is sitting

2. Mom has her legs up

3. Mom is enjoying a dessert

4. Mom is eating an entire piece of pie

We have always teased my Mom of having "halfatitus" - meaning she never eats an entire piece of anything - especially dessert. But my brilliant Aunt Irene whom we had the delight of visiting has found the one dessert Mom raves about - lemon meringue pie. And history is made.

My aunt Esther with her daughter/my cousin Melanie who live just around the corner from Mom. Aunt Esther always has a curry ready and a few tricks up her sleeve!