Thoughts of a New Season.

Mochudi, Botswana
According to the Five Senses

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. However, a captivating memory that instantly flashes a vivid picture of a time or a place that you once knew is often triggered by a sound, a smell, a delectable taste. I have found the myriad of memories stored in my mind like frames on a reel are captured as I experience life through the five senses God gave me. And so it is that I hope to take you on an adventure of my senses to my life living in the quaint little town (realistically a village) of Mochudi, Botswana where God has called my home. I want to share with you the things I have seen, smelled, heard, tasted, and felt over the past month and half. So here it is (in list form)...take a gander.

A Word from my Senses:

Sights of:
Kilometres and kilometres of green pastures, winding, pot hole-covered dirt roads, friendly faces of Mmas (Ma's) and Rra (Ra's) waving hello, tiny concrete homes, children flailing to wave frantically at the white people, birds flying and nesting in the roof nooks, cockroaches scurrying away from the spray of Doom, donkeys charging the vehicle, babies being carried on their Mama's backs, everything being carried on peoples' heads, children waiting impatiently for the gate to open for church, a small group of faithful church members gathering under the carport joyfully worshiping God, my cottage taking shape, breathtaking sunsets, God on the move in the bush of Botswana.

Smells of:
Burning rubbish and brush, cow manure, curry cooking, Joshua's dirty diapers, wet concrete smelling fresh and metallic, children smelling of sweet dirt and half eaten sweets, the stench of malfunctioning septic tanks, baby shampoo, sugary sugary Sunday school juice, toddlers relieving themselves in the yard, body odor (not my own FYI), hair relaxant, and fragrant roses from the garden.

Sounds of:
Roosters incessantly crowing from 4am on, birds screeching loudly, prolonged echoes of donkeys hee-hawing, persistent cow bells warning of meandering cow families, Joshua crying, cooing, laughing with delight, neighbor children singing praise songs from church outside the gate, hammering, pounding, scrapping cement, skill saws cutting with precision, shovels flinging sand, rocks, soil, and cement, Tyler playing the guitar, squeaking doors, neighbors shouting greetings in Setswana, taxi drivers racing down the dirt road blaring techno music, soccer fans cheering, rain pounding vertically and horizontally, thunder shaking the house, and every bug known to man buzzing in my ear.

Tastes of:
Chocolate chip cookies, tacos, pizza, lasagna, boervoers (African sausage), Pita sandwiches, banana bread, fried chicken, rice, beef stew, pudding cake, boiled bread (African style), curry chicken, fat cooks filled with mince meat (fried bread with ground beef), guavas (glory, guavas!), African fusion sauce, brownies, chapati (fat tortillas), and dry, tasteless Sunday School biscuits.
(Ok, that is totally just yummy Jorgensen food for the most part!
Needless to say, I am eating quite well!)

Feelings of:
Soft baby skin oiled with lotion, rough heads covered with braids and coarse curls, tiny hands grasping mine, guitar strings digging grooves in my poor fingers, hand shakes of kind, sincere new friends, sand and dirt between my toes, clothes pins clamping on sopping wet clothing, rough concrete-covered walls soon to be my cottage, plastic church chairs lovingly arranged, wrinkled, peeling hands from dish washing, refreshing air con wind bringing relief in the heat, humidity to transform my hair into an afro, thorns jabbing into the soles of my feet, damp air in the stillness after the rain, joy and a bubbling brook of hope. Such great hope.