A Day in the Ban

My day starts around 5:30-6:00 am, no alarms just the sound of roosters, the crackling fire, and voices. The people here are social and communal, mornings are times to cook sticky rice for breakfast, clean the home and chat together around the fire. Nobody is usually in a rush, but neither are they idle. I usually wash my face outside, sit by the fire and boil water for coffee while my family laughs at how addicted I am. I help My Farmer’s mother wash bowls and spoons from the night before, I sweep the kitchen, get wood and practice English with My Farmer's siblings before they go to school.

Mornings are some of my favorite times., it’s cool and cozy. Also, there is nothing quite so good as hot, fresh sticky rice steaming in the basket. We usually go out in the garden and get pumpkin leaves, or mushrooms and make a basic soup. Somebody will pound chilies together for a spicy paste to dip the rice in. People stop by and visit, or we go visit others. It’s social time.

Around 8 am everyone is working in the farm, or off hunting food in the woods, usually a few people stay to mind the house. My days constantly change, sometimes I go to the fields, or the woods but since I am not as efficient with those things, I mind the house most of the time. I visit with new mothers, I do laundry, I lesson plan. Some days Ahn and I spend the day planning and dreaming. Many days we have to go run errands in the town or the city. Or we have meetings. If that is the case we won’t be back till the evening. Everything is far from where we are.

The sick in the village come sporadically all day. They come with stomachaches, diarrhea, headaches, muscle pain, fevers, and cuts. I clean their wounds, give them antacids, give them water to drink, massage their aching backs, and if necessary Tylenol or Imodium. There are days I wish I had been educated to be a full time nurse. Actually, everyday I wish I was a nurse, health needs are vast and I am ill equipped and careful to never overstep my knowledge.

I often sit outside while waiting for the laundry to dry and sing to my Dad, and read his precious book. I read a lot. And study language. I always like to keep my mind sharp and reading English words are comforting in my new world where English isn’t spoken.

Midday all the students come home from school, I sit with my little sister on the back porch (it’s the hottest time of day) and we figure out what to eat and practice her lessons. Sometimes somebody will find a sour fruit, make spicy sauce and eat till we cry and sweat.

The evenings are when I am busiest. The sun goes down, the boys come back from playing soccer sweaty and dirty. Everyone baths the dirt and mud away, the fires are started and lessons begin. I cook whatever we have over the fire with the kids, make more coffee, then we sit around and eat together. As soon as we start to finish the children trickle in with their notebooks and pens eager to learn. They tell me how they have been in school all day but the teacher never showed up, or he wrote something on the board and left. The fact that I teach, interact, and apply it to them is the greatest attention educationally they ever receive. I try to keep that in mind every time I teach, it may seem small to me, but it is huge for them. I teach for around an hour and a half but people stay and play for about two hours. After everyone says goodbye and walks home flashlights in hand, I sidle into the kitchen.

My Farmer tends the fire and we usually sit in silence for a few minutes. Then we talk. We talk about his people. We lift them up. We talk about being more intentional. Giving more. Loving more.  We talk about our struggles. We dream, we talk about our farm. I’ve started teaching him world history some nights; he likes William Wilberforce and Martin Luther King Jr.

I sleep with his sisters on a soft mat and mosquito net. Sometimes his brother comes in late and watches TV. I go to sleep feeling so content. Everyday is different, slow, and new.

I think people forget the most effective way to love and serve others is by living intimately with them. It’s the daily grind. The un-glamorous ins and outs of life that draw us close and allow us to see each other clearly. It’s the hard days and the joyful days mixed in where we begin to see transformation.

It’s taken three years for the different tribes to feel comfortable with me. And only a handful are brave enough. But it’s progress. It’s taken three years to get My Farmer’s family to hug me naturally and say I love you daily. But now it is effortless for them and they love it. It’s taken so long for some of the kids to think they are smart enough to learn English. And it takes one on one time with a few of them to encourage them to come. One girl in particular hasn’t been in school for so long, she came to my English class and I knew she felt lost, and then embarrassed she couldn’t grasp anything. I now spend as much one on one time with her, teaching her alone, and getting her to slowly open up.

I don’t do anything glamorous, I don’t throw big events, and I’m truly not special for what I do. I live with people and am as intentional as I can be. My comforts are less then in America, but it’s amazing how you can change your level of comfort and normal once you just accept it mentally. I recently visited friends and got to take hot showers and be inside a air-conditioned house. It was nice, super nice. But I didn’t need it anymore.

My day ends with everyone’s soft snores, (with rainy-season coming) sometimes the trickle of rain on our tin roof. I always sleep well here, especially if we farmed that day. The day ends with that blissful feeling of contentment. Sometimes worry but it is usually hushed by the sounds of the jungle in our backyard and whispers from my Father that I am here on assignment and can sleep in His love.