“I used to be funnier”
Just in case you didn’t know I used to be funnier, I thought you might enjoy one of the “Lost Blogs,” from the chronicles of this incredible journey called Neema House Arusha.
The Nile River
Saturday October 8, Michael decided we would take the day off and as a birthday present for me, we would float the Nile River. Did I say “present?” There were times during the day when I thought a coffin would have been more appropriate. We have floated a lot of rivers, the Gallatin, the Flathead, the Colorado, the Arkansas, the Snake and the Buffalo among others, so we thought we were experienced white water rafters. I can’t even begin to describe this trip in words.
I should have known we were in trouble when the guide, before we got in, asked me to take off my rings at which I politely smiled and said no, because you see we are experienced rafters. Within five minutes of beginning the incredibly long day trip we were into a category
five white water rapid and when I say into I mean into, as in not in the boat. I think I spent more time under the boat frantically trying to fight my way back up to the surface than I did in the boat. Of course when I got to the surface huge waves crashed into my face just as I was trying to take a gulp of air so I got a smacking gulp of Nile water in my lungs instead.
A nice lady before we left the hotel had offered a bit of advice, albeit useless advice, when she said don’t swallow the water, you’ll get an amoeba. I swallowed so much of the Nile river I’ll be able to grow a whole village of amoebas. I told the guide, “Just give me a water purifying tablet to chew and I’ll shake it around in my stomach.”
There were six of us and a guide in the raft; two young South African guys on a cross countries drive from Amsterdam to South Africa (I didn’t know you could do that!), Molly a really sweet, gorgeous blonde business woman just taking the day off from work, a young man from China named One Way, about whom I kept wondering if his mother had given him permission for this trip, and Michael and I.
I think all of them at one time or another saved my life. The guide would say, “Okay this next rapid is a category six so stay with the raft, don’t lose your paddle, and the river divides up here so make sure you don’t get swept down that left side because that is called killer rapids and we won’t be able to get you out.” Was he kidding, stay with the raft? Like I had any control. He forgot to mention “oh and hold your paddle, hold the boat and hold your nose because we are going over!” I was always one hand short.
I noticed right at first about eight or more kayakers paddling along with us; one was doing acrobatic tricks with his kayak, flipping under and over, I thought, how nice, they were along just for the show. No, after the very first rapid when I was swept downstream, here he came, paddling for dear life, to pick me up. I was coughing up Nile water and he said, “hang on,” while he dragged me back to the raft. I asked him if I could just stay with him on the kayak which seemed safer than the raft, but he made me get back in the raft.
We asked if there were hippos and crocodiles in the water but the guide said, “no, none in this section of the river.” I kept thinking, don’t they swim? After about the fifth rapid as I was being pulled like a beached whale back into the boat (the guide grabs you by the neck of your life jacket and hauls you into the raft) I began asking if I could switch boats and ride with the food boat. It didn’t seem to be flipping as much as we were. After the last rapid when we were coasting in to get out and I realized that I had actually lived through the trip, I began to think, Yeah It was a blast, one I don’t care to repeat, but a Blast!
Dorris Oct 8th 2011.
Yes, I used to be funnier.
Now that you have had a good laugh I can tell you, that was before we started Neema and saw babies starve to death and moms die giving life and babies with an OCA gene become “prime flesh” because someone thought their skin cured AIDs. I was funnier before I knew about our baby Innocent floating in a latrine and Baraka all alone in a house for days and Chris left crying on the road side and newborn Dorothy in the gravel pit…. David Platt was right. “It is easier to ignore them before you know their names, it’s easier to pretend they’re not real, but once you hold them in your arms, everything changes.” It did for me, I am not so funny anymore.
Bless you for staying with me through the hard blogs to read. I assure you they’re much harder to write. What I am seeing is that most of us living our abundant, God blessed lives would rather hear about puppies thrown in trashcans than babies thrown on garbage heaps. Who wouldn’t? It’s too much. We can’t take it. So thank you to you wonderful people for hanging in there with me as I struggle to write what really happens to these babies and yet not scare you to death with their stories. As I mention quite often all our babies have a tragic story or we would not have them.
Neema House Arusha received three new babies in one day last week. You know how it is when a new baby comes
to your family, relatives come in, neighbors come over to Ohh and Ahhh. Well, that is how it is at Neema only this time I am sure multiplied by three! After the baby is washed, weighed and checked in, all the nannies, cooks, drivers, volunteers and manager gather round to greet the new little one, hold their tiny fingers and tickle their little toes. Me? I cry.
(New abandoned Baby Sifa to the left.)
I’ll show you pictures of two of them, the other one I’ll not be posting. She is going to have a hard life in Africa, please pray for her.
(Baby Pascal to the right.)
I hope your day is full of joy and that you laugh and love a lot and that you can see the Goodness of God in this dark world and want to be a part of the answer.
Bless you. Dorris