<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232</id><updated>2011-12-27T16:56:44.539-08:00</updated><category term='Chapter Three'/><category term='Chapter Four'/><category term='Chapter Two'/><category term='Chapter One'/><category term='The Plague of the Mosquito Net'/><title type='text'>Malawi Bound</title><subtitle type='html'>Come share in my journey of faith and adventure as God leads me to Malawi...
   "The Warm Heart of Africa".</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-8848875682140238482</id><published>2010-04-06T01:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T01:38:46.297-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chichewanglishese...?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri;"&gt;Language.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh what fun it’s been to learn the Malawian language.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Except that in honesty, by no means am I even remotely close to having the privilege to say I’ve learned it or can even say that I kind of know it.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have very limited speaking abilities but I am known for my craziness, diligence, and refusal to give up.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Therefore the students or working staff at the school are constantly talking to me in Chichewa, rattling off words so quickly…..it’s like they’ve forgotten that I actually DON’T know the language.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I guess it is helping me daily though as we go through the “teach Michelle Chichewa process”.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This process is very long but simple.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They say something in Chichewa.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I look at them with an odd blank stare…which is actually what’s in my head.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Blank.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I have them repeat it while I try my best to catch words or sounds that are familiar.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Again, blank.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I have them repeat it again….because maybe this time I’ll understand.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;See resilience!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But again, blank.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And then I give up and say, “Okay just tell me.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What are you saying?”&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They then smile, chuckle, and tell me what they were saying, I repeat it two or three times, walk away, engage in another conversation and, poof….it’s gone!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Blank again!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Dang.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Unless those same words and phrases are repeated over and over through the period of a week or month there’s no hope for me!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And even then sometimes I struggle as many times I get words like beans, cow, and home mixed up.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes I say I’m going home.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes I say I’m going beans.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ha.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This week however I had a breakthrough when I learned how to say I want to go to the bathroom and some of the words that go with bathroom…for some reason that one stuck.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I found my new words very helpful however when one of my kids decided that she wanted the nickname Bibi.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At first I thought okay.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I remembered that bibi in Chichewa was poop!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I secretly pulled her aside and informed her of this great knowledge, asking her if she really wanted to be called bibi?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She got a cute little grin on her face and decided not.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Smart kid and yay to Tina for teaching me the word poop!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m making progress!!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri;"&gt;I will say that learning the language has been interesting as many of the college students have taken advantage of me and my lack of knowledge in their instruction.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I know this because the response to many of my phrases are a laugh, an “Eee” (remember this means “goodness” or “good grief” with disapproval), and a “Michelleoh!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Who taught you that?”&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;At which point I give a ridiculously large grin of satisfaction and rat out the person who abused their privilege of teaching me.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Shame.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Although in all honesty I do egg it all on and enjoy learning the random phrases just for the shock value!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For instance the first phrase I learned was “Sia Ndi Kuswa”, which means “Stop I’m going to beat you up!”&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I found this very handy with my volleyball players in a practice or with any of the boys on campus really.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m sure some may wonder if I’ve developed Chichewa Turrets.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’ve also learned how to say “Your mom!” and “That’s how I roll.”&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can shout out “IWE”, “YOU” across campus and command the attention of all and I love to yell “TEMANGA, TEMANGA, NSANGA, NSANGA” at the top of my lungs at every volleyball practice and watch the boys play along in that I’ve actually intimidated them enough to run.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This means “RUN, RUN, HUSTLE, HUSTLE.” I have learned a very important song about “You’re going down.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That one there”.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To the best of my knowledge this would translate into “We Will Rock You”.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Singing this on campus actually made me famous for a while as everyone was amazed at the fact that I could sing it, even though I butchered it, and every time someone would see me on campus they would sing it.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was like I had my very own theme song that would follow me wherever I would go.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;“Wa gwa nyo, wa gwa nyo, aminio”!!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can apologize, say I love you, let’s eat, let’s pray, sit down, come here, you’re looking nice and a few other important phrases.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s my goal each week to learn something new.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri;"&gt;I do have to say that as I’ve taken from the language I’ve also given back.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have been an instrumental part of the Chichewa language development and Malawi should hire me to fill in the gaps in their language.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This last November when it was one of my dear friend Titu’s birthday I asked my aide Catherine how to say happy birthday in Chichewa.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was my hope to remember it long enough to actually say it to him and dazzle him with my knowledge.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, to my bewilderment I found that there were actually NO words for happy birthday!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Can you believe it?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eeee!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So I invented some.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Which oddly enough I, the founder of happy birthday in Chichewa, even forget and have to ask sometimes how to sing happy birthday in my own Chichewa words!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ha!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But regardless my “Moolee Weewa” has spread around the campus and my hope is that it will continue to spread, bringing cheer and joy to all villages and homes across Malawi.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You’re welcome Chichewa language.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You’re kwambiri (very) welcome.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri;"&gt;So anyway I’ve continued to find the heartbreaking gaps in Chichewa as I’ve gone along and I’ve found that I have a lot of work before me.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The other day I discovered that they have no words for certain colors.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Everything in Chichewa is green or blue.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eee again.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Goodness, this explains a lot!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;These people need some color names in their lives!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Now this process of coming up with a name for every color in a box of Crayola Coloring Crayons will take a very long time but I think I have a plan.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You see many times in the Chichewa language they simply take an English word and add an –oh (as in oh my) or an –ee (as in bumblebee) at the end to make it Chichewa.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For instance when I go to the village and I introduce myself as Michelle, inevitably by the end of the day I’ve turned into Michelleoh.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So now that’s what they call me here!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Or a number.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Take the number nine.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Nine in Chichewa is Nineee!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ten?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Tenee.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Six?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sixee.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Easy right?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;So my plan is that I will just add a few vowel letters to the end of color names and this should fix most of the problem.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yellowee, Brownoh, Orangeoh, Purpleee, Aquaoh, Neonee Pinkoh…well it’s a good start for now.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri;"&gt;I must admit there have been a few setbacks in my work however.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;For instance I was told that my word for birthday (weewa) actually means pee.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not so good.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Just recently I also attempted to find a word for you’re welcome just to find that the word meant bile.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Again, not so good.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In Chichewa they say thank you and then thank you again for you’re welcome. However, now I know more words so I guess it wasn’t a complete failure.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Calibri;"&gt;So my mission now has broadened.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am a teacher of small children, a volleyball coach to a bunch of crazy boys, I have been called to love on college students and eat their unsettling food a couple times of week in order to connect and see them, and now I am on a mission to be the first Chichewa Linguist Gap Filler Upper.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;“Filling the potholes of Chichewa, one word at a time.”&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;That will be the slogan on my t-shirts and bumper stickers!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I love it.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Praise Jesus for his work through the crazy at heart and slightly off-their-rocker missionaries!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;God is good.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-8848875682140238482?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/8848875682140238482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=8848875682140238482' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/8848875682140238482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/8848875682140238482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2010/04/chichewanglishese.html' title='Chichewanglishese...?'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-1856514315504553000</id><published>2009-12-29T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T13:04:35.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bunda! Bunda! Bunda!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SzpjEEb4F1I/AAAAAAAAAI4/Z1aKss1uyIM/s1600-h/100_7062.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img style="WIDTH: 142px; HEIGHT: 103px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420690706610954402" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SzopekTOoKI/AAAAAAAAAIw/xnXDexUuRJI/s200/100_7055.JPG" /&gt; &lt;img style="WIDTH: 137px; HEIGHT: 103px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420679882825024402" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SzofoijkQ5I/AAAAAAAAAIY/8lXeaL5Q_Us/s200/100_7064.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;So I went hiking for the first time since being in Malawi. Kinda sad that it’s taken this long but I’m pretty sure I made up for it when I not only hiked up and down this incredibly steep, what seemed greater than 90 degree angle, rocks, rocks and more rocks mountain once…..but three times. Crazy you say? I would have to agree.&lt;br /&gt;A dear friend of mine Lisa who is a fabulous teacher and inspiration is training with her good friend Jessica to hike Kilimanjaro, the tallest mountain (volcano) in Africa, and the tallest free standing mountain in the world. It will be a seven day hike with five days up and two days down. The amount of hiking ranges from three hours to a whopping nineteen hour hike where they not only summit but descend on the same day. Kili is an inactive volcano in the north-eastern part of Tanzania and is 15,092 feet in height. While hiking Kili Lisa and friends will pass through five different ranges of ecological zones and once reaching the top of the mountain they will freeze their butts off at a wonderful 0 to -15 degrees Fahrenheit. At this point not only their hind quarters will be frozen but also their water supply and any kind of chocolate candy bar they have brought to celebrate their victory of reaching the top. They will summit and in their frozenness, admire and awe at God’s amazing creation of Africa…. hopefully there are no clouds, because they will be above them, and then descend back down the mountain with hopes to make it with both knees still attached to the rest of their body. I’m starting to think I should have signed up for this trip. So in great preparation for their wonderful adventure they’ve decided to train. Training includes swimming in the morning, running after school, and hiking ridiculously steep mountains not only once but three times.&lt;br /&gt;Although I will not be joining them on their expedition I have stumbled into their training program from time to time after training with the volleyball boys or for moral support in swimming with Lisa in the mornings. This last training, a hike up Bunda, was a doozey!! Hiking is always fun for me as I love the mountains. Our family has been blessed to have a cabin that we ventured up to each summer to spend time together in God’s beautiful creation. My most favorite memories have happened up at Dinky, climbing rocks with my dad, going on hikes to random swimming holes, and jumping into freakishly freezing water so that my mom could justify not taking a bath!! She liked to rough it in the mountains and was never a stinky person anyway. We all did the same. So when Lisa said she was going on a hike I thought, “Oh how fun, I’d love to go!” So I invited myself and Saturday morning packed my bag, our lunch of P&amp;amp;J’s, and we were off.&lt;br /&gt;Bunda. Bunda, pronounced boo-n-da. Is a little mountain right outside of town only about 20 minutes away. Like most of the “mountains” close to Lilongwe, it’s out in the middle of nowhere and is like a lone earth tumor just sticking out of the ground with no other hills or mountains attached to it. The thing is stinkin steep and majority of it is granite, or the African form of granite, and in the direction of straight up. The most interesting part about Bunda is what you find at the top. Lots of praying people. Bunda is known for its praying people that gather into different groups to pray, sing, maybe speak in tongues…. It’s a little different feel when you finally reach the top of a mountain just looking forward to the serenity and quiet majestic view of the valley below to have the sound of loud shouting prayers, singing, and repetitive noises. It makes me wonder why and what…mostly what. But Jesus would pray on the top of mountains, and I personally find mountains to be one of my favorite places to meet with God, so I guess it makes sense.&lt;br /&gt;The hike itself was wonderfully exhausting but beautiful as well. On arrival, once out of the car, there were a group of children and family members of the neighboring small village who came to greet us and ask to watch the car. That happens a lot when going to the market, or I guess in this case Bunda Mountain. In order to make money the kids say, “Madam. Watchman?” Which means, w&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SzoeDfqtptI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/n120BLAgALs/s1600-h/100_7043.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420678146882905810" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SzoeDfqtptI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/n120BLAgALs/s200/100_7043.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ill you pay me to keep your car safe? These little boys were cute and instead of saying “watchman?” They said “bodyguard?” I had to smile when I pictured them bodyguarding our car, but later I realized what they meant. As we started up the steep incline they walked with us….sometimes they even skipped or ran, which seemed rather cruel as the three of us were huffing and puffing with our backpacks and hiking gear. But these little boys were barefoot and carefree, just content as to be walking along guiding us up the right paths and every now and then asking us in Chichewa if we were tired! They were cute. They were also our flower coordinators as at one point one of the boys, Gift, picked us some beautiful purple flowers and smiled proudly to give them to us. I accepted mine with a big ZIKOMO (thank you) and pushed the stem into my ponytail. As we continued our hike we were adorned with more and more flowers, each one of them going into my ponytail, and with a big ZIKOMO. By the time we had hiked up and down the mountain twice I had an entire bouquet of purple and orange beautiful flowers in my hair and a very &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SzolcWAB8WI/AAAAAAAAAIo/coj2lENE_LI/s1600-h/100_7066.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420686270366085474" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SzolcWAB8WI/AAAAAAAAAIo/coj2lENE_LI/s200/100_7066.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;stylish flower sword, which I later found could also be worn as a flower belt. Let’s just say we were the prettiest three hikers on the mountain and I now have an idea for a cute hairstyle the day prince charming decides to ride up on his horse and marry me.&lt;br /&gt;By the end of the day we were pooped. Hurting knees and slightly sunburned we decided at the end of two that if we could climb it a third time we definitely deserved some ice cream. So, on our third round we stood at the top of the mountain, one last time admiring God’s bea&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/Szobzba_VeI/AAAAAAAAAII/KwXAI8e-szQ/s1600-h/100_7068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420675671842051554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/Szobzba_VeI/AAAAAAAAAII/KwXAI8e-szQ/s200/100_7068.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;uty. We could see the flat land of fields ready and planted for the maize, I’m sure with hopes that the rains would grow a decent crop this year. There were a few mountains that sprouted up here and there and mountain ranges on both sides in the far distance. You could see smoke stacks from people burning and past the group of trees there were little village settlements all scattered throughout the valley. It was truly beautiful and it was a clear day which made it even more spectacular. Eventually the clouds started to loom, and the thunder could be heard in the distance. We decided it was time to go. As we walked slowly down the hill with pain in most all parts of our bodies we were passed up by mamas barefoot and with babies on their backs, some of them practically running down the hill. I’m going to guess that they pray on the top of Bunda daily and are very used to the climb both up and down. There’s nothing like being shown up by a barefoot mama with her baby tied to her back. I was ready to climb onto one of their backs. We finally made it to the bottom tired and ready for ice cream. It was a great hike.&lt;br /&gt;. . . . . . . .&lt;br /&gt;So after writing this email, researching a little about Kilimanjaro, hiking another mountain two days later with Lisa, and thinking, “When will I ever have this opportunity again?”….I’ve booked a plane ticket to Tanzania and in about two weeks I’ll be at the base of the largest mountain in Africa. I’m hiking Kilimanjaro! Eeeek!!! To see what I’ll be seeing and doing check these websites out: &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mountkilimanjaroguide.com/kilimanjaro-photos.html"&gt;http://www.mountkilimanjaroguide.com/kilimanjaro-photos.html&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://kilimanjaro-shah.com/html/mk_machame_trail.htm"&gt;http://kilimanjaro-shah.com/html/mk_machame_trail.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Please also....UP YOUR PRAYER SUPPORT!!!!!&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-1856514315504553000?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/1856514315504553000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=1856514315504553000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/1856514315504553000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/1856514315504553000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2009/12/bunda-bunda-bunda.html' title='Bunda! Bunda! Bunda!'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SzopekTOoKI/AAAAAAAAAIw/xnXDexUuRJI/s72-c/100_7055.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-4541567064992587817</id><published>2009-03-06T11:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T01:24:54.929-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chapter One'/><title type='text'>Dzuwa Traffic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbI9R7vy9TI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Zbu2rgGgtAk/s1600-h/100_3430.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310374288928470322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbI9R7vy9TI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Zbu2rgGgtAk/s200/100_3430.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traffic. You can’t seem to escape or rid your life of it. It slows you down when you want to get somewhere and inevitably always makes you late. People sit in it for hours on a daily basis, or better yet wake up at odd hours of the morning just to avoid it. It’s a plague and frustration and I’m sure is most likely one of the leading causes of cancer!! Traffic makes you wish and long for a simpler life somewhere else. A place with fewer people, fewer cars, and fewer causes for accidents, and of course less frustration at the end of a long workday. Maybe a place in a remote and far away land like…. Dzuwa!&lt;br /&gt;Dzuwa, may be a decent-sized village for Malawi but very small compared to a booming metropolis in America. Fourteen small individual family-sized villages exist with dirt roads leading from one set of adobe houses to the next. Between the villages and alongside the roads are lush fields of maize, peanuts, tobacco, beans, and tall standing grass making the area beautiful and green against the bright blue sky at times filled with white puffy clouds. You would think this would be the kind of place to be lucky enough to escape the plague of traffic. A place you would like to go to escape traffic!!&lt;br /&gt;Oh my dear friend….here is where you are so very wrong!!! Dzuwa, a quaint village in the middle of nowhere has managed to create its own traffic! Who would have thought? Although Ronald and Ulemu I’m pretty sure are one of the few, if not the only, family to own a car in Dzuwa there are plenty of other road hazards to slow you down. Not that Ronald and Ulemu are a road hazard at all!! They’re wonderful drivers!! Ronald says Dzuwa does have traffic… “Goats, Cows, Dogs, Bikes, Ox Carts, and women with big loads on their heads.”....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-4541567064992587817?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/4541567064992587817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=4541567064992587817' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/4541567064992587817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/4541567064992587817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2009/03/dzuwa-traffic.html' title='Dzuwa Traffic'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbI9R7vy9TI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Zbu2rgGgtAk/s72-c/100_3430.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-1683464360246582245</id><published>2009-03-05T11:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T01:21:17.099-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chapter Two'/><title type='text'>The Ox Cart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbFMMlMESxI/AAAAAAAAAGI/dt0XiqTiHZM/s1600-h/IMG_0152.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310109214671391506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbFMMlMESxI/AAAAAAAAAGI/dt0XiqTiHZM/s200/IMG_0152.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dzuwa's traffic is unique and something you don't see everyday in the states. One of my favorite modes of transportation...THE OX CART! This would be a cart, much like you would see in the bible times, on wheels pulled by two oxen with a wooden stick between their necks. On the cart a man sits on the edge with a stick to spur on the team and guide them to their destination. It’s a village truck, a vehicle used for hauling things like corn! Of their many diverse features one of my favorite is the ability to speed up these rather large animals…a simple process of yanking on one of their tails while hollering out words of encouragement…or at least, while riding one of these last weekend, were what I assumed to be words of encouragement! When meeting one of these modes of transportation on the road you would think that the best idea is to back up to let them pass. After all how easy is it to back up a team of oxen? Yet these creatures are fearless and feel no need to stop but veering right or left will plow over anything on the side of the road to make way for you! Very noble if you ask me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-1683464360246582245?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/1683464360246582245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=1683464360246582245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/1683464360246582245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/1683464360246582245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2009/03/ox-cart_06.html' title='The Ox Cart'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbFMMlMESxI/AAAAAAAAAGI/dt0XiqTiHZM/s72-c/IMG_0152.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-8268940225145535439</id><published>2009-03-04T11:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T01:20:31.909-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chapter Three'/><title type='text'>Village Bikers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbF8wHMyvjI/AAAAAAAAAG4/RaNQcl3cL08/s1600-h/IMG_2688.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310162601654795826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbF8wHMyvjI/AAAAAAAAAG4/RaNQcl3cL08/s200/IMG_2688.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Another great mode of transportation in Dzuwa is the bike! Most of the villagers use this as their way of traveling and some are even lucky enough to have a metal plate-like piece on the back just small enough to fit the rear end of a passenger who may or may not wobble enough to throw both the driver and themselves right off! I know this from experience. While riding on the back of a bike from church to home Ronald reminded me to not be scared but just relax and enjoy the ride. I think he may have been fearful that I would take us both down!! It was a definite possibility. Yet I’ve noticed that with or without a passenger these biking villagers are just wobbly in general. On the small roads going to and from Dzuwa we pass many, many bikers and their attempts to gracefully exit the dirt road in order to let our car pass is often a comical situation. I think they seriously believe that we will hit them…they might not be too far off base.&lt;br /&gt;One instance in particular still makes me chuckle! A group of four “village bikers” were traveling along the left side of the road towards us as we were in Ronald’s truck driving away from Dzuwa. The road, not being very wide at all, didn’t allow for much room for error, or even space to really ride on the shoulder. One of the first bikers was struggling to keep his balance in keeping on the road while also keeping on his bike. Just as we approached him his eyes widened, we heard a, “woah, woah, woah….” and down he went. The poor guy toppled over, bike and all, down the embankment into the tall, thick grass. As he disappeared we could hear his friends and hopefully he laughing...we also laughed. Poor fella! I don’t think he was hurt!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-8268940225145535439?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/8268940225145535439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=8268940225145535439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/8268940225145535439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/8268940225145535439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2009/03/village-bikers_06.html' title='Village Bikers'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbF8wHMyvjI/AAAAAAAAAG4/RaNQcl3cL08/s72-c/IMG_2688.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-2886310027390837049</id><published>2009-03-03T11:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T01:48:18.966-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chapter Four'/><title type='text'>Women With Big Loads...and Stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbJCEJRC6QI/AAAAAAAAAH4/akRIxkszPak/s1600-h/100_3553.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310379549597559042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbJCEJRC6QI/AAAAAAAAAH4/akRIxkszPak/s200/100_3553.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbJCDW1EnJI/AAAAAAAAAHw/L0NxeTsFz-M/s1600-h/100_3452.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310379536058457234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbJCDW1EnJI/AAAAAAAAAHw/L0NxeTsFz-M/s200/100_3452.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than ox carts and the local village bikers there are also the typical goats that mindlessly run out into the road as you are passing, the typical cow who just looks at you with a blank stare, a few dogs here and there that think they are SO brave as they chase you…just waiting to get caught up in your wheel wells. Then there is Dzuwa’s Little Ark (the boat ferry that transports you from one side of the flooded road to the other) ...and of course then there are the women carrying, in the words of Ronald, “big loads on their heads”. On the way home from Dzuwa Tina, Funa, Ronald and I discussed the issue of African women carrying rather large things on their heads. My excuse as to why I couldn’t manage to do it was that my head was not flat enough to carry anything. To which my dear friend Tina responded with encouragement, “Every head holds something!” I thought about it and then replied, “My head holds a ponytail pretty well!”!!!!!! Maybe one day I’ll learn the ways of an African Woman! However, oddly enough, and with much respect, what you think would be the most awkward of all these and most dangerous were actually the least of a drivers worries! It’s actually quite amazing how much strength and grace they have as they hold on their heads anything from a big bucket of water (that I struggle to even pick up), to long bundles of sticks, or bags of who knows what. All of these things they seem to carry with easy and grace. Women of America…you have no idea how easy we have it!!&lt;br /&gt;During our last visit to Dzuwa I was lucky enough to experience all of Dzuwa traffic and was thrilled enough to ride on three of these wonderful modes of transportation! Another trip on Dzuwa’s Ark, a bike taxi ride, and yes….even a ride on the back of an ox cart! That was probably my favorite, I wish I had a picture…I guess I’ll have to do it again!! Hehe!!So there you have it. Traffic is indeed everywhere. You can’t escape it, you can’t confine it, you just have to embrace it!!! So go on….give traffic a hug! Maybe while it’s at a dead stop though!! Just to be on the safe side!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-2886310027390837049?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/2886310027390837049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=2886310027390837049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/2886310027390837049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/2886310027390837049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2009/03/women-with-big-loadsand-stuff.html' title='Women With Big Loads...and Stuff'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SbJCEJRC6QI/AAAAAAAAAH4/akRIxkszPak/s72-c/100_3553.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-5487516692492482793</id><published>2008-12-07T10:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T12:11:05.948-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Another Day in Malawi</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;I realized today that there are many things that no longer seem odd to me. Like for instance that our gardener trims the lawn with a machete…not so weird. Or that instead of seeing chipmunks or squirrels scampering about here I see big lizards with blue heads. I no longer think it odd that I share the walls of my home with geckos, and I even find it cute to see their little gecko bodies scurry across the wall inside our home. They have a fun little wiggle as they move, ask me when I come home for Christmas and I’ll show you!!! It’s not so uncommon to see a family of chickens pecking through my yard, or to have a mama hen hop onto my windowsill and stare at me while I’m sitting at my desk putting on my makeup…okay, that’s actually not true, that one was still a little weird. But it's no longer abnormal that I do my makeup in front of a window instead of a mirror! It’s no longer peculiar to see a woman carrying 10 feet of long bamboo-like sticks on her head with a baby on her back and the only thing holding the baby on is a piece of fabric. Or to see men and women dressed in business attire walking in the dirt alongside the road in the heat of the day. To see a random fire burning rather close to houses and with NO ONE in sight to watch it is no longer strange. It took me forever to get a straight answer out of anyone but finally I found out that they burn fields to scare the mice out in order to catch them, boil and dry them, and then skewer them to sell on the side of the road. Which they sell along with bananas, mangos, slingshots, movies, dried fish, and live chicken hung upside-down and bundled together by their feet. Yup, no longer weird…I’m finally starting to get used to this place!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-5487516692492482793?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/5487516692492482793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=5487516692492482793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/5487516692492482793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/5487516692492482793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2008/12/just-another-day-in-malawi.html' title='Just Another Day in Malawi'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-3937592554546165787</id><published>2008-12-07T09:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T12:15:06.256-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goombies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#663300;"&gt;he rainy season is finally here and really fun things happen when it rains in Africa. Besides the crazy thunder and lightning storms that roll in within minutes, drench the land with torrential downpour, and then pick up to move elsewhere…there are little flying BUGS everywhere!!! These termites that crawl out of the ground and take flight with thier long skinny wings are called White Ants, or Rain Ants, or as my dear friend Amy calls them Goombies(gew-m-bees)!!! I’m completely sure that’s not their name and must tell you that she has her own language for many things here in Africa, for which I have suffered greatly for. But anyway, these “whatever you might call ems” invade the air just before and during the first part of a rain. Like a gnat they enjoy the light and so they tend to swarm and gather right outside the door just waiting to greet you. They apparently are edible and I’ve heard if cooked properly taste like bacon. If cooked improperly, they just taste like bugs...ya think? This I might just have to try…maybe…I’m scared...maybe not.&lt;br /&gt;The last couple of Wednesday nights I’ve been playing sand volleyball in a league with some of the staff here. Last Wednesday it started to rain just as we began to play and these bugs were everywhere. At one point I looked down at the thigh of my pants and noticed a small bump moving around, it was an ant! My teammates laughed at me, I had ants in my pants!!! Like I said, fun things happen when it rains in Africa! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-3937592554546165787?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/3937592554546165787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=3937592554546165787' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/3937592554546165787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/3937592554546165787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2008/12/goombies.html' title='Goombies'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-5026598176045793987</id><published>2008-12-07T06:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T12:16:06.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas in Africa</title><content type='html'>As we enter the Christmas Season I am feeling a tad out of place and disoriented here on the other side of the world. Normally the weather is cold, I am happy wearing my scarves, and there’s an excitement in the air. Yet here in Malawi I’m experiencing Christmas like never before. There are flowers still in bloom, the Mangos are ripe, there are big poufy clouds in the sky, every now and then you hear thunder, sometimes it rains but mostly it’s just HOT and a little sticky! Something’s just not right. This last Saturday we had a huge swimming gala for the entire school. One hundred races, kids running everywhere, swimming attire, a blazing hot sun, music, food, lots of cheering….are you sure it’s Christmastime?&lt;br /&gt;There are people on campus decorating for Christmas even though everyone is still running around in shorts and short sleeve shirts. One house in particular is decked out with millions of twinkle lights and big wooden candy canes lined up along the path between their house and the neighbors. This last weekend I spent my Sunday morning helping my friend Amy decorate her fake Christmas tree while wearing a knee-length skirt and a tank top. Later in the day we went up to the pool and I came back a little sun burned...for the first time ever, I’m tan in December!&lt;br /&gt;As I taught today it seemed I was living out an oxymoron when I read my kids a story entitled, “What Snowmen do at Night”, all while sweating and being nowhere near cold or snow. The only cold I’m experiencing is the one making my nose stuffy, and that I could do without.&lt;br /&gt;Although it’s a totally different feel and experience of the Christmas season in Africa there is one thing that remains the same. People here, just like at home, are stopping to focus, remember, and celebrate the birth of our Savior! As we celebrate this year I pray that we remember to take moments amidst the hustle and bustle to refocus and give praise for the blessing we have of being loved by a Heavenly Father and for the promise and gift of His son Jesus Christ!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-5026598176045793987?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/5026598176045793987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=5026598176045793987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/5026598176045793987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/5026598176045793987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-in-africa.html' title='Christmas in Africa'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-6765158469754155604</id><published>2008-11-10T15:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T16:35:58.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day I Wore Pigtails</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SRjSm5W7bAI/AAAAAAAAAEE/1MVA0h6SvrY/s1600-h/Meg,+Jo,+and+I.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SRjD5G50ZrI/AAAAAAAAAD0/mDTZSUVtjq0/s1600-h/209.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Other than the fact that it was a Friday, the best day of the week, I thought it was just an ordinary day. I woke up, ate breakfast, and got ready for school. Since we were going to be taking a train ride in class this Fun Friday, and I was going to be the conductor, I decided to wear my hair in pigtails. I thought it would look cute, the kids would enjoy it, and I was going to be wearing a hat later in the day so it would be perfect.&lt;br /&gt;On my arrival to school a few of my kids looked at me and just smiled with one of those grins that said so much more than, “Hey it’s good to see you.” My little Johanna was the best as she looked at me and just said, “Miss Halemeier….your hair???” And that was it. What am I supposed to think of that? What does that mean?&lt;br /&gt;Well I carried on with greeting the kids as they walked in, and helped them get situated in their morning centers. During the morning hustle I heard a noise coming from the back table. When I stopped to listen I noticed that my dear German girl, Johanna, was singing. She often does and I enjoy it with all my heart. As she sang, “Jesus Loves the Little Children” she paused, looked at me, recalculated, and then proceeded to change the words to… “Jesus loves the Miss Halemeier’s. All the Miss Halemeier’s of the world.…” As she sang you could clearly see she was quite impressed with herself. I thought it was very cute as well and thankfully told her so.&lt;br /&gt;At this point there were only a few kids in the classroom and things were plugging along like normal. Then Adam and his nanny entered the room. Adam was crying and holding on to his nanny for dear life while throwing a fit about not wanting to be at school. Adam is my crier. The first two weeks he cried almost every day. He’s done so well lately and has started to open up and come out of his comfort zone and I thought his crying days were over….apparently I was wrong. I peeled Adam off of his nanny and sat him on my lap while telling him this was not okay and that he was alright and knew better. He slowed his crying down and stopped trying to escape my arms after realizing I wasn’t going to let go, and that he would have to calm down.&lt;br /&gt;Now if you’ve ever experienced the joy of teaching four year olds you realize that it doesn’t take much to draw a crowd of concern and wonder in these kid’s minds. Actually…that applies to a lot of ages. Before I knew it there was a small gathering of concerned children saying, “sorry” to Adam and trying to love on him as best they knew how. Sorry is what people say here to our, “Are you okay?” Hopefully I racked my brain trying to figure out how to make Adam stop crying. As I looked up Johanna was standing right at my toes. She often does this as well, sometimes even on them! “Johanna maybe you should sing your song for Adam.” I exclaimed. I hoped it would cheer him up, catch him off guard, or at least sidetrack him. But it didn’t. I think it actually made it worse as he started to squirm again and try for a squiggly release out the door.&lt;br /&gt;At this time I heard a different set of tears accompanied by hard cries as Megan, one of the most agreeable, polite, and joyful students I have came into the room being carried by her mother. She was clenched so tight to her mom and had her head buried in her chest as she sobbed and cried to go home….&lt;br /&gt;…Okay, right about now I was starting to question my effectiveness as a teacher and wondered where I had gone wrong. What was I doing to these kids?....&lt;br /&gt;…While still holding Adam on one knee, who was still crying, Megan’s mom and I tried to work on Megan and what her problem was. At first, we thought she was being picked on by an older kid. Her mom had explained that she didn’t know where the tears were coming from but that when she walked onto the school playground Megan just looked at one of the other girls and started bawling while insisting to go home! It seemed odd, and I had never heard Megan complain about anyone before. Finally, Megan also started to calm down and sat next to me on the bench opposite Adam and I just put my arm around her and tried to ask what was wrong, who was hurting her, all while reassuring her that I would come out and play with her at recess today.&lt;br /&gt;By now the crowd around this fiasco was growing and dear, compassionate Johanna was still singing her song now to both Adam AND Megan. She has such a pure heart, I love it! So now, amidst the tears, singing, and questioning from other student as to what was wrong I thought, “Good grief this is going to be a long day.” But the Lord is faithful and Adam’s tears finally slowed to a sob, and Megan’s mom pulled her aside to talk privately. As she returned Megan’s mom apologized saying that Megan was upset because she had simply forgotten to wear the t-shirt that the kids are only allowed to wear on Friday. I laughed a little and started to feel better, maybe there was still hope for the day.&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, everything ended up working out and the day turned out fine. Adam continued to cry a little as the other boys in our class tried to cheer him up by helping him put together a puzzle on the carpet. Well actually, the boys worked to put the puzzle together as Adam sat and sobbed, but only for a short time. As for little Megan I had Mr. Owen grab a P.E. t-shirt from the closet so that the two of us would match. I had worn my P.E. shirt that day and we were the only ones in red that day!!&lt;br /&gt;So in conclusion, I’ve learned my lesson. Wearing pigtails is definitely not the best strategy for teaching. That is unless you want to be challenged with the most intense and stressful fifteen minutes you’ve ever faced. I most likely will not ever wear pigtails to school again…even though I did think they looked cute and went awfully well with my train conductor hat!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-6765158469754155604?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/6765158469754155604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=6765158469754155604' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/6765158469754155604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/6765158469754155604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2008/11/day-i-wore-pigtails.html' title='The Day I Wore Pigtails'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-3167268565017489640</id><published>2008-09-03T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T23:13:43.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Epiphany Number One!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SMIfczmjO6I/AAAAAAAAADs/hrJoMy20uMI/s1600-h/205.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242787495961377698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SMIfczmjO6I/AAAAAAAAADs/hrJoMy20uMI/s200/205.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#330000;"&gt;If any of you read my email about having the energy for this I now know the answer is “Yes!”. Oh man, God has been showing me some wonderful things. Like that I need serious help when it comes to patience...and that’s just the beginning!!! You know when I look back into last year and my “blessing of a class” at Liberty I remember feeling so much more at ease and patient with my kids for the first time in my teaching career. Granted it was my third year but for the longest time I questioned why things were so much easier and wondered when it was all going to BLOW UP! Optimistic, I know! But it never did, and I now can see that if God hadn’t started to prepare me last year for what I am being asked to do this year, I wouldn’t be ready for these kids here at ABCCA or this task. God won’t give me more than I can handle and He leads me in baby steps to where He wants me to go. On that journey there are speed bumps and potholes, which I’m sure will continue, but He has allowed for me to arrive to a place where I honestly never thought I would be. Teaching in Africa was always a thought or idea but never on the pursuance of becoming a reality. Every now and then I stop and think, “I’m in Africa….How the heck did I get here?”. I’ve now come to the realization that I am here because this is where God wants me to be.&lt;br /&gt;One of the greatest challenges since being here has been re-directing the glory. Last night I read Matthew 5:16, “In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and PRAISE YOUR FATHER IN HEAVEN.” Everyone likes affirmation. I’m not going to lie, I have basked in and enjoyed every bit of praise and encouragement thrown my way. However, in all honesty, saying “yes” to Africa was the greatest of my accomplishments in this whole process and even that was spurred on by the Man Upstairs. Any light that might be shinning from me is not because of me, any good deed that has happened is not because of me. Therefore the praise needs to continue past me towards God in gratefulness and thanksgiving for the opportunity and blessings that have and will continue to come of this. When I look at it that way I then feel so blessed and honored to be chosen for the task. I’m free from the pressure I put on myself and I can step out in confidence knowing that God is behind me 100%.&lt;br /&gt;Now, just because I’ve had this enlightening moment, please don’t think I’ve become the lady version of Apostle Paul and am wandering throughout Africa fearlessly preaching the Word of God. Baby steps remember?! Actually, I really need you to save these thoughts and email them back to me in a month or so. Because I’m human, and a forgetful one at that, I know this is something I will need reminding of and need accountability for! You can also pray that these thoughts would do more than just sit in my head but permeate in my heart forever. God is revealing Himself and my purpose for being here as I go along. Please continue to pray for me as I have the opportunity to build friendships with those around me, especially the students here on ABC’s campus! Also continue to pray for my students and the relationships I’m building with them!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-3167268565017489640?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/3167268565017489640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=3167268565017489640' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/3167268565017489640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/3167268565017489640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2008/09/ive-had-epiphany.html' title='Epiphany Number One!!!'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SMIfczmjO6I/AAAAAAAAADs/hrJoMy20uMI/s72-c/205.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-7348742296449921783</id><published>2008-08-30T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T14:41:44.038-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Plague of the Mosquito Net'/><title type='text'>In Memory of Bright Blue</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SLm9eDn-MEI/AAAAAAAAACw/ca8T0JDWVJw/s1600-h/Memorial+for+Bright+Blue.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SLm9eDn-MEI/AAAAAAAAACw/ca8T0JDWVJw/s320/Memorial+for+Bright+Blue.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240427965488967746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today at approximately 3:00 in the afternoon Bright Blue Mosquito Net was laid to rest in the dustbin of Michelle Halemeier’s room on the ABC Campus in Lilongwe, Malawi.  Bright Blue lived a noble life in service and dedication towards protecting the lives of others.  Who knows how many others he blessed (I’d actually like to know) as he served each night to protect and guard off the Malaria Biting Mosquitoes of Lilongwe.  Bright Blue was best known for his clumsiness as he would sometimes fall onto the heads of those he protected.  However, Bright Blue never meant to harm anyone and with a smile and a soft chuckle he was always hung back up to do his job.  Bright Blue passed away quietly this morning around 9:00am due to a tearing of a thread leading to the dislocation dislodging of the circular wire that holds his form.   Bright Blue will soon (like tomorrow) be replaced…but never forgotten.  Goodbye Blue, goodbye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-7348742296449921783?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/7348742296449921783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=7348742296449921783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/7348742296449921783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/7348742296449921783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2008/08/in-memory-of-bright-blue.html' title='In Memory of Bright Blue'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SLm9eDn-MEI/AAAAAAAAACw/ca8T0JDWVJw/s72-c/Memorial+for+Bright+Blue.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351328862228866232.post-8117354395762432457</id><published>2008-07-11T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T22:09:31.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The 4 Stages of Acceptance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SLzI9Zot32I/AAAAAAAAADc/zEPJ31jJC_g/s1600-h/IMG_6026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SLzI9Zot32I/AAAAAAAAADc/zEPJ31jJC_g/s200/IMG_6026.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241285023531655010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;            The past few months have been a bundle of emotions and new emotions only continue to surface as this process continues.  From questioning and disbelief to a sense of assurance and surrender, I hold on tight to the knowledge that our God is mighty and freely gives a love deeper than what I can fathom.  The process to go to Malawi seemed to come so quickly into play the moment my heart said "yes"!  There were no "take backs" or "ha, I changed my mind".  And as scary as that was, I also felt a deep sense of comfort and a soft whisper telling me to have faith and take a step. He would take care of me if I trusted Him on this one!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I prepare for a year teaching in Africa I've noticed some things.  I notice myself becoming more in need of hugs and love as I realize that very soon I will be separated from everyone near and dear to my heart for a whole year.  My apologies if you feel smothered at all!!  I also want to spend every waking moment with friends and family. Even if that means taking a friend to the health center to help me get shots, or simply dragging friends around town in the heat to run errands.  Thank you dear friends for that. I've also noticed how extremely anxious I've become about how to pack for a year.  How does one pack for a whole year?  Honestly? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, as I think about the opportunity to go to Africa I think about many of you.  When the opportunity to go teach in Malawi arose I prayed that God would reveal Himself to me and continue to reaffirm this life-changing decision…and He has through many of you!  Through your excitement and enthusiasm I have been so encouraged.  Your willingness to pray for me has been uplifting.  I have been completely overwhelmed by the generosity of those who already have or have said they are willing to support me financially, and I love that so many have jumped on board and are diligently collecting cans for me.  There are even a special few who are willing to stay after church to dumpster dive with me, or even help me cart a load of cans to be recycled.  You people should be given a medal, I'll put in the order to heaven now! &lt;br /&gt;All in all I just want to say “THANK YOU”!!!!  Your love and support goes much further than you may realize and I am so grateful for all your love.    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3351328862228866232-8117354395762432457?l=chellebelle52.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/feeds/8117354395762432457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3351328862228866232&amp;postID=8117354395762432457' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/8117354395762432457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3351328862228866232/posts/default/8117354395762432457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chellebelle52.blogspot.com/2008/07/4-stages-of-acceptance.html' title='The 4 Stages of Acceptance'/><author><name>Malawi Bound</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09488230604255320628</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s5MR6oi9s3U/SLzI9Zot32I/AAAAAAAAADc/zEPJ31jJC_g/s72-c/IMG_6026.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
