Home Sweet Home?
November 19, 2003

Taking a coffee break at the Addis Ababa Airport.

While winging my way back to Djibouti recently, I had a layover in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Since I had about a 36-hour delay between flights, I had arranged to spend this time with medical missionary friends, Dr. Tim and Muriel Teusink.

After Dr. Tim picked me up at the Addis Airport, we headed back to the SIM (Serving in Mission) compound in the heart of the capital city. I had a room reserved in the SIM guesthouse for two nights, a comfortable, older boarding house. It was the end of the first week of the Holy month of Ramadan in the Muslim faith, so I knew there would be more calls to prayer from the electronic speakers in the minarets during the night. No problem, I sleep like a rock. Always have. Always will, I hope!

Dr. Tim and Muriel Teusink

The next morning when I entered the dining room for breakfast, I noticed one of those doodads that hang in many homes with some cute saying on it. Well, this one was hanging right above where you're suppose to sign up for the next meal. It said, "So it's not 'Home Sweet Home.' Adjust!"

I laughed right out loud. I mean that really says what so many missionaries must deal with in the extreme. Once they leave the shores of America — or whatever country they are coming from — everything changes and it will not be like anything they have known back home.

Approaching the only empty chair at one of the two tables set for those who would be consuming breakfast that morning, I took a moment to introduce myself to my tablemates. One lady, perhaps in her late thirties, was from Toronto, but had grown up as a missionary kid in Ethiopia. She was there visiting friends. Another lady, in her early twenties, was from New Zealand on a short-term mission helping to teach English. Rounding out the table was a family of three. These folks had been in Addis for a conference and were preparing to return to a tribe of native Ethiopians located in a remote area of western Ethiopia. This young family focuses on translation work. Now that's all well and good when you have a written language to work with. However, this tribe has no written language. This tribe is easily recognized because they wear a flat, clay plate lodged in their lower lip. Over time, the size of the plate is enlarged. It carries greater status as it increases in size. Ironically, when this tribe first began wearing this addition to the lower lip, it was intended to make them appear unattractive. Why did they do it then? When slave traders came to the African continent several hundred years ago, these folks took action in an attempt to thwart the efforts of this barbarous trafficking in human flesh. They felt that if they made themselves ugly by distending the lower lip in grotesque fashion, the slave traders would not be interested in them. It worked. But the practice of inserting the plate in the lower lip continues to this day.

These missionaries live right there with the tribe, all the while attempting to record this peculiar language on their computer for future translation work. This is painstaking, labor-intensive work, requiring the patience of Job. Then they must teach these people to read their now-written language. The end result, of course, will be to translate the Bible into this new written language so these precious people can read God's Word for themselves!

Customs being what they are, there is very little privacy experienced amongst these people. They think nothing of walking right up and peering into the windows of the missionary's home. Aimee told me she grew up on the mission field and that these minor inconveniences simply do not bother her. It's part of life when you live in this culture.

In the spring of 2002, I took several people from my church on a mission trip to Ethiopia. This was a first for our congregation. We visited some areas in the country where the people had never seen a white person before. Never wanting to pass up an opportunity to play with children, I would approach a group of these little ones with an extended arm, indicating they could come and touch me. There's always one child bold enough to finally venture forward and touch you. Try to imagine the look on their face when they touch someone who has no color to his skin! All the while, the parents are smiling broadly as they enjoy this new experience of witnessing their child interacting with a white man.

Those of us in the military are often far from home and in settings that are like nothing we've ever experienced before, with none of the familiarity and comforts of home. Some of us were laughing here in the chapel office in Djibouti the other day as we raised a glass in a toast to each other. Only the beverage wasn't a beer or some other alcoholic drink. It was Pepto-Bismol! Why were we toasting with this nasty pink medicine? Because RP1 Brett Baldree and yours truly were experiencing yet another bout with the "Djibouti Crud." It was his second time, and my third in only four months. Ugh!

Then there are the inoculations that always seem to come around. Yellow Fever, Small Pox, Flu, and the daily or weekly, Malaria pill (your choice). The latest addition to the shot record is the Anthrax inoculations we receive periodically — all this because we are in an environment that is not exactly healthy.

So you can perhaps appreciate why I laughed out loud at the sign that read, "So it's not 'Home Sweet Home.' Adjust!" And whether we're missionaries, or military members, we learn to adjust.

Any volunteers?