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Of mada and love - Anri-Louise
- Anri-Louise Oosthuizen
- Mar 9, 2010
Dearly beloved,
I just have to start the letter like this …
it is such a beautiful expression of our love for each other and God’s love for us! It is almost 10 at night and there is little romantic about the shaking shack…
on the contrary! It is perspiration humid with the mixed aroma of insect repellant and mildew, the mozzie net is dangling an arm-length away from my nose and there is an unidentified fluttering sound coming from somewhere in my 3/4m room. (For those uninformed, I have dubbed my house the shaking shack, as it physically shakes – REALLY – every time a truck passes over the sleeping policeman, mada version of speedbump, in the middle of the night). I am afraid that you will have to bear with a romantic letter regardless, as romantisism is an incurable disease! But for those who don’t feel like wading through it all, I will add some headings so you can read your choice favorites.
I miss you! I remember you often! I pray for you! I love you! I am eternally grateful to God that He has knitted us together by His design, for His purpose, according to His love!
Of life and love
The thought that has been captivating every moment of the past few weeks is that of love. Love is not pretty, but she is beautiful! She never gives up. She carries in her heart hope for others, she dreams over them, and she lays herself down to see those dreams come into being. She forgives without question, without explanation, without holding back. She does not give up, but patiently perseveres, again and again and again, through all seasons. She lays down herself, gives not only of herself, but gives herself wholly and unreservedly. She does not hold on to her rights and her dreams for the sake of her beloved. She delights in her Beloved’s sucesses and carries her Beloved’s heart. She is robust, not fickle and temperamental, full of emotion, but not emotional. She is captivating! She is beautiful. If there is one desire in my heart, at this moment in time, it will be that God will come and fill us with His love that surpasses all understanding, that we may love one another! Let us pursue love!
Precious precious church
Oh, how I love our precious Tana City Church. It is the faces of people worshipping, greeting each other, drinking coffee together that leaves my heart with a warm, fuzzy, frothy joy that grows and grows until it feels like bursting. We have a great leadership team of likeminded people, people who love God and care deeply for His people. We are starting a second service in three weeks time, and will now be sharing the gospel in both English and Malagasy. Isn’t it just wonderful?! That is of course the event following a family day. Because of logistics it is a challenge to have corporate prayer meetings, but more and more house prayer meeting are popping up all over the city. Please pray with us that prayer will become an every-believer-culture in our church. The bible study that I am part of is led by a lovely couple, Craig and Vivian, who are quickly becoming dear friends. Our group is made up of a mix of people comitted to the church and coming only for the social. Please pray for Craig and Viv for much wisdom in leading and growing a very diverse group of people. More and more of the young ladies are becoming part of my life and phoning for visits and dates. I dream of real, deep, accountable friendships with some of them. Please will you carry that dream with me?
Every day life
It is the rainy season, with a big debate about whether the weather should be called tropical storms or monsoons. I love the rain! I despise the rain! The mornings are sunny, with the remote chance of being saved from doing my PE period, a fair chance of having my classroom filled with muddy foodprints right before the end of the school day and a certainty of showers as soon as the bell rings. Except, showers is putting it mildly! I have tried and observed various attempts of mastering the torrents, yet to discover a working solution. There is the plasitc bag over the head technique. With water daily flooding the streets ankle deep and litteral waterfalls running down every step and wall, it keeps the hair dry, but assures a facial eclips. Option two is the ever faithful umbrella, succesfull in keeping either the face or the rucksack dry, and little else. (The average lifespan of umbrellas here is tragically short, by the way). Option three, which I have settled for, is the backpacker’s bat-like raincoat. It is due to have the locals staring, but it keeps the rucksack and upper front and back of the body dry, even if the sides, bum, legs and face are drenched. Then there is of course the question of sliding home with your shoes on, or collecting water transported germs by taking them off? So most days are spend swimming 1km home every afternoon.
I had a good giggle at God’s sense of humour and destiny, when I remembered a distinct evening at varsity when I specifically felt Him ask me if I would be willing to walk to church in the rain. He took me up on my answer!
Here are some pics of my street, people in it, the view from my balcony and the little shop where I buy airtime, eggs and bread.
I have been having some fevers, headaches and night sweat, which eventually had me going to the doctor to have the routine maleria test done. I left home at 9:30 to hunt down a trusted taxi driver (we have had some kidnappings and robberies and the doctor is out of town) and made it just in time for my 11:00 appointment, with a lovely American doctor. Armed with my blood test request Monseur Johny took me to the Pasteur Pathological Clinic. Where oh where is De Bruyn Dubison & Partners?! I entered a room of non-English speaking people and walked from cubicle to cubicle to finally find a saviour who could direct me. When I returned at 3:00, as instructed, my results were no-where in sight and with my little French-Malagasy I eavesdropped on a conversation catching words like “miscommunication with the vaza (foreigner). An impatient hour and a half later we squeezed through traffic, to catch the doctor 7 minutes before the clinic closes and then headed back through the peakhour standstill. I got home at 6:30 … 9 hours gives a whole new perspective to doctor’s visits!
The school
Like most (happy) teachers I am under the illusion that my children are the most amazing kids in the school. They confirm if with little letters, sharing their snacks and bottles of tadpoles on my desk. Of course, when I returned after my doctor’s visit, I walked in on the result of non-monitored tadpoles: reeking, dead amphibia strewn across the classroom floor L And in case you are unfamiliar with the scientific occurance … dead tadpoles stick to whatever surface they land on and there is no way of getting rid of them other than scrubbing them off, one at a time.
The only way of surviving the ways of the school is by resting in God and savoring every success. The predominant culture is one of breaking people down, rather than affirming. The staff turn-over is high. Miscommunication reigns. Ideas are put down. Responsibility is not handed down. Children are completely demotivated to learn. Discipline is a crisis. I can go on and on. Pray for us please!!!! I know that God’s plans outweigh any current reality. I have such a testimony of how He has changed my heart to carry hope, love and passion for the school. Yet the reality is that it will take His intervention to change the culture of the place. In the midst of it all I feel like a lucky child with a carnival apple, favored. I am blessed with dear friendships with many of the teachers, with good relationships with those in authority, with a great class and with successes despite my severe lack of teaching skills. I walked into my class the other day to find them waiting excitedly for me. On own initiative they had taken out their test papers and written their names and the dates. I walked in and they announced, “Miss, we are ready for the test.” Grade threes!!! I walked on cloud nine for days, adding to this that 11 of 14 kids had 100% for the test, and the entire class above 80%. Of course every day is not like this. Today I resorted to the ridiculous write-100-times method. Oh, I miss the days of the rod!
S, J, MV, M and N are my five OT / remedial kids. Please pray for them. S (10) has been scribbling, as she cannot write, but last week she got her first marks ever in a spelling test. J (16) passed maths for the first time in 3 years. He is Muslim and is continually asking questions about God. MV (10), whose dad is abusing her mom, is opening up. M (10) announced that he wants to learn, a good improvement to refusing to try. N (13) is able to read a book, and I spend every Friday evening with him and his family, also Muslim. I love the time with these kids. It is the first time the school has an OT doing OT (of course I couldn’t help myself) and they are considering releasing me to do OT next schoolyear (August). I am quite relaxed to slot in in whichever capacity they choose to use me.
So, as you can propably see, I love it here, am happy here and am very grateful to God for choosing me for this lovely place. Well, that’s about that for now. I love you so very much and cannot wait to come to South Africa in June.
Anri-Louise
