We boarded our shuttle to the airport at
3am Chicago time (after a two hour nap). We were sleepy but excited. Steph,
Sarah, and I had just spent a week at STINT briefing, drinking from a fire hose
of information. We had learned about cross-cultural ministry and caught a
greater vision for what God is doing around the world through Cru. I fought a
double ear infection and sinus infection that kept me in bed for half of the
conference. Now, as we prepared for twenty-four hours of travel, I prayed
fervently that the Lord would protect my hearing allow me to avoid excruciating
pain in the air. Lots of friends and ministry partners had promised to pray
along with me. (Thank you, prayer warriors!)
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| The 2015-2016 Botswana STINT Team with the Botswana Flag from left: Kirstin, Stephanie, Sarah |
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| My college small group leader, Lisa, and I shed a few tears and shrieked as we celebrated God's answer to our prayers to send me to Africa. |
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| Waiting for our airport shuttle at 3am. |
The security line was long and slow, with
only one person checking boarding passes and the bin runner missing in action.
We made our way to our gate with just enough time for one last trip to
Starbucks (as Botswana has somehow been protected from the globalization of
Starbucks and McDonald's). The sun started to rise as we taxied to our runway.
"Ready or not, here we go."
My seatmate on the two and a half hour
flight to New York was a Chinese college student studying in Michigan. We
talked for the first hour, and my heart was full as I drifted off for a little
nap. How sweet of the Lord to place us next to each other! I've found that most
of the Chinese students I have talked to and ministered to have had bad
interactions with Americans, finding us to be impatient and unclear
communicators. As I head to another country and cross cultures myself, it's
encouraging to remember all that the Lord has done to prepare me. He has
brought me a loooong way from my senior year of high school when I interacted
with non-Americans (exchange students) for the first time.
When we landed at JFK, I waited in line at
an info desk for twenty minutes before giving up and asking everyone around me
for help. We had no idea how to get to the international terminal, much less
which gate we needed. They were really helpful, and we booked it to a terminal
a ten minute train ride away. Our layover was less than two hours, and we were
determined to make that flight. When we finally found the South African Air
counter, they made me and Steph check our bigger carry-ons because they were
over the weight limit. We hastily shifted our stuff again and prayed the bags
would make it Botswana with us. I regrettably left all of my spare clothes in
the big bag because my backpack was far too small. Having lost my bags for a
few days last summer, I prayed against a repeat. Thankfully, they didn't charge
us to check the bags, and we rushed to the security line. The dreaded
"this long from this point" sign (like those at amusement parks and
inducing the same sort of anxious anticipation) told us it would be a twenty
minute wait. Our flight was to begin boarding in ten minutes. We prayed, and
hurriedly texted some friends to pray with us, that we would make it to our
flight. It was a lesson in providence, y'all. As we wound our way through the
long line we came to a bend. To our surprise, the guy redirected us, sending us
into a new line. We ran through the empty queue (like a scene from Shrek), back
and forth back and forth until we reached the front. You may be thinking,
"Why didn't you just lift one of the stretchy ropes and go under?"
Firstly, because we're rule followers, but really because a lady behind us
tried to lift a rope and got yelled at. New Yorkers who work at the airport
must be one of the groups that helped to establish the stereotype of gruffness,
because we were barked at a few more times. Then, miracle of all miracles, we
were ushered through the x-ray machines without having to remove anything at
all and took off for our gate. We made it through security in FIVE MINUTES! We
took off for our gate, with our carry-on bags stuffed full, and boarded with no
problems. Praise God.
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| Waiting in line in Joburg. |
Our gate was the farthest from our arrival point, and poor Sarah had to lug two carry-ons. Steph and I cheered her on all the way, but she wouldn't let us help her carry anything. She was a trooper. We finally made it to our bank of gates, and Sarah delighted in the giant giraffe statue that awaited us, seemingly forgetting the journey she had just been on. We only had to wait about ten minutes before the bus that shuttled us out to the tarmac arrived. Piling onto the crowded bus, I bumped a man with my backpack. I turned to apologize, and he struck up a conversation. He asked us if we were with an NGO (Non-Governmental Organization, often of a charity or aid nature). I asked why he guessed that, and he said we "have kind eyes." Oh, Lord, may I always have kind eyes! He was a South African Jew who works for a drug company that created an all-in-one antiretroviral drug to fight AIDS. I told him stories of our time in the Old Naledi neighborhood in Gaborone, working with AIDS orphans. Steph led the conversation toward spiritual things, asking him questions about how his faith intersects with his work. She shared with him, and then suddenly, we were at our little plane.
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| Sarah boarding our last flight |
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| Our first photo in Botswana, on the tarmac |
Our welcome party, comprised of Cru staff, volunteers, students, and kids waved and held sweet signs up to the window as we passed on the tarmac. The long wait for our bags in the empty airport was painful. I knew our friends were just on the other side of the wall. We were greeted with hugs and flowers, it was so great to see old friends. As we made our way to the parking lot, Mpho (the Batswana intern) reminded me of the conversation we had in that same parking lot almost exactly a year ago. When we were saying our goodbyes last August, I told her, "If you come back, I come back." She is joining staff, and I have returned on STINT. We laughed and hugged as we celebrated the fulfillment of that promise.
After lugging our stuff up to our third
floor flat (apartment), we all gathered for lunch at the Campus Crusade for
Christ Botswana national office, which is really close to our flat. I was tired
and dirty, but building relationships with our staff team was super important
to me. Taffy, the national director from Zimbabwe, took us to the grocery
store. Most of the products are completely familiar, and the layout is the same
as a US store. But due to our utter exhaustion, we were unable to process any
new information and spent most of the time staring blankly at the food on the shelves.
When we finally made it home, we were given a few hours to shower before
heading to campus for our first BotsCru weekly meeting.
We felt like zombies, and I prayed that the
students would be gracious with us. We all struggled to stay awake during the
meeting. The games were fun and engaging, but I quickly forgot every name I
learned. After the meeting, I got to catch up with PD, a student who had joined
us for our Summer Mission last year. I was so grateful for the comfort of an
old friend. At the end of the night, we happily collapsed in our beds.
We were up bright and early for our first
staff meeting the next morning, and ten hours of sleep proved to be too little.
Immediately after staff meeting, we headed to campus. Taffy's philosophy is
that we should jump right in. We were pleasantly surprised to find that a full
tradition meal costs P15 (or $1.50). The meal was exactly the same as every
lunch and dinner we ate on campus last year, and I smiled as I thought of my
Summer Mission team and our meals together. Good old Moghul. When the rest of
our staff team joined us in dancing at the lunch table, I knew we would fit
right in! They're so much fun!
To help us transition, we took time that
first weekend to visit the Three Dikgosi (Chiefs) monument , hike Kgale
Hill (which included terrifying boulder fields), buy traditional
dresses/skirts at The Show (a fair featuring food, rides, and local
handicrafts), check out a local church, spend time with our staff team, and
play with the national director's adorable children. After an afternoon of
imaginary play, Zayne (4) leaned over and called me Auntie Kirstin for the first time. I nearly
melted.
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I conquered Kgale, boulders and all! You can see the
nearly dry dam in the distance.
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| The Three Digkosi (Chiefs) Monument |
We are clearly still in the honeymoon
stage, and we haven't faced any challenges yet, but I really, truly love it
here.
