Tag: Home Assignment Page 2 of 15

The Medinas in Tanzania: A Primer

On April 6, 2017

Whenever we visit the States, there’s always that awkward moment in the church foyer when someone we know runs into us and says, “Hey, welcome back! So….how’s it going…..over there?”

And it’s pretty obvious that they really don’t remember where we live or what we are doing.

If this is you, first of all, don’t worry. While you are frantically trying to remember the details about us, we are frantically trying to remember the details about you. After all, you might have sent us your Christmas letter, but we didn’t memorize it. We don’t expect you memorize everything we write about either.

So since we’ll be seeing many of you soon, here’s a summary to bring you up to speed. If you want to send one to me as well, I would love to read it!

Where are you living?

source

We’ve lived in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania for 13 of the last 16 years. Dar es Salaam is coastal and near the equator, which means that it is hot and very humid most of the year. It never gets cold. (My kids start shivering at about 80 degrees.) Lots of palm trees. Just minutes from the ocean.

Dar es Salaam is the largest city in Tanzania. It has about 6 million residents and is rapidly growing. We live in the northern part of the city, about five minutes from Haven of Peace Academy.

What is your life like?

We rent a three bedroom house which has electricity and plumbing (though using totally different systems than what you would be used to). We have air conditioning in our bedroom. I have a gas stove. We own a generator. We have one car.

During the years we have been here, our standard of living has continued to improve. We have a supermarket ten minutes away and we even have Pizza Hut. Internet has continued to massively speed up, and this year, we’ve even been able to stream American TV shows. We lack a lot of the conveniences of the States, but we are not suffering. But maybe living thirteen years in a developing country has changed our perspective on what suffering is.

Are there lions?

Yes! Tanzania has some of the world’s most amazing and beautiful game parks, including the Serengeti. (Gil took that picture!) The closest reserve is about 5 hours drive away from us, so no, we don’t see wildlife on a regular basis, unless you include goats, chickens, and large lizards. Oh, and hedgehogs. And that snake that appeared in Lily’s bed. But that was only once.

What is your ministry?

During the last three years, we have been partnering with Mark and Alyssa Dunker to establish Reach Tanzania Bible School, a theological training program for Tanzanian pastors and church leaders. Students take 10 classes during one year, with each class lasting one week. Students go back to their churches and ministries in between classes and apply what they have learned.

Gil also does a variety of training sessions in different churches and ministry programs.

Where do your kids go to school?

Just the best school in the entire world. But I guess I’m biased, considering Gil and I served there for 10 years before we joined Reach Tanzania, and in August I’ll be going back on staff as Elementary Principal.

By the way, HOPAC is still recruiting teachers for next year, so if you know a teacher looking for the best job in the entire world, point him or her in my direction.

What are your kids’ names again?

Grace is eleven and in fifth grade. She loves playing soccer and basketball, crafting and creating, and reading (her current favorites are the Percy Jackson series). She is a total social butterfly and makes friends quickly.

Josiah is nine and in third grade. He is a sports maniac. His favorite is soccer and he can talk for hours about British Premier League soccer, but he is pretty much interested in any kind of competitive sport.

Lily is eight and in second grade. She loves dolls and drawing and nurturing small children.

Johnny is five and will be starting kindergarten in August. He is fascinated by vehicles of any kind but also loves puzzles and anything his siblings are doing.

How long will you be in the States?

Four months, until the beginning of August. We will be all over California.

Anything else you want to know? Ask away!

That’s a Whole Lot of Thoughts

By Amy Medina

On March 25, 2017

In Other

Johnny’s recent airplane picture. I am the pilot (so he tells me).

These are the days my mind is in many places and many times.

Thinking about here: How do I prepare my house to be empty for four months? Buying lots of dog food, going through piles of papers I had put off. How do I make sure our workers get paid? What does the landlord need to know? What clothes can we give away before we leave? Making sure the kids are caught up on vaccinations and doctor’s appointments. How can I use up everything in my pantry?

Kids: Mom, the ketchup is finished!

Me: Too bad. We’re leaving in a week and I am not buying any more ketchup. Eat your eggs plain.

Thinking about life when we return: I will hit the ground running when I come back on August 4th. What can I learn from the current principal before I go? I’ve been shadowing her, asking hundreds of questions, talking to all the current teachers. I am stuffing my brain with schedules and facts and feelings that others are giving me.

Everything will change when we come back. Johnny will be in kindergarten. I will be a working mom. What can I teach my houseworker before I go? What new responsibilities will I ask of her? We cleaned out the kids’ toy room and easily boxed up half of their things to give away. They don’t play with many toys any more, and Johnny will no longer be home. For the first time in 10 years, I won’t have a pre-schooler with me all day. I gave away Candyland and the alphabet practice books. I once yearned for the end of those days, and now that they are here, I am sad.

Thinking about preparations to leave: Getting school materials from all the kids’ teachers so that I can homeschool them for their third term. Writing to churches and scheduling visits for when we are in the States. Working through our home assignment budget with our business manager. Communicating with a friend back at home who will make us a video of our ministry to show to everyone. Buying gifts to take back to friends. Renewing the car insurance. Making an appointment to get the girls’ hair done.

Josiah: I’m really excited about going to America, but I’m also really sad. I’m going to miss my friends.

Welcome to the world of bittersweet emotions, kid. You’re learning it young.

Grace is sad she will miss Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat and her 5th Grade Graduation at HOPAC. Josiah is sad he’ll miss Sports Day and the 5K run. But simultaneously, they both are counting down the days and announce it every evening. They are educating Johnny about Chuck E. Cheese and garage door openers. Last week, we received a package with the Christmas cards from our home church. We reminded the kids, See? You know this person! Do you remember playing with her?

Last week I told the kids to put their shoes on at dinner time because a lightbulb had shattered in the dining room. They all commented on how weird it was to wear shoes at dinner.

Me: In America, a lot of people keep their shoes on in the house. If you visit someone else’s house, you keep on your shoes.

Josiah: REALLY? Like, what if your shoes are all muddy?

Grace: They have these things called sidewalks in America. Your shoes don’t get muddy.

Dad: There is no dirt in America.

Me: There are no cats in America.

*cue family singing while Johnny looks on blankly* I guess we need to show him “An American Tale.”

Thinking about the journey: Of course, this part should have been routine, and then last week America decided that it didn’t want people who are flying through the Middle East to carry their electronics on the plane. So where are we flying through? The Middle East. Thanks, America. My brain didn’t have enough to think about already. Yeah, going back to the Dark Ages of Children-Before-Ipads is one thing, but honestly, making sure our valuable electronics get to the States unbroken and unstolen is a much bigger worry.

Thinking about there: Dreaming about salami and sourdough bread and good yogurt and nectarines. Planning vacations with our families. Emailing with friends who want to see us (one who will travel all the way from Wisconsin!). Anticipating hugs and conversations and nostalgia. Daily adding to my list of things I will need to buy in America.

We are so excited to see all those we love deeply, yet I know acutely that the joy will also be a poignant reminder of the loss. My six-month old niece is now three years old. My own 5-year-old is now eight. There will be the three nephews we have not yet met. Joy, but sorrow, because we can’t get those years back.

It’s funny though, that in spite of all the looming change and mixed emotions and scattered thoughts, there is now something new in my brain: Familiarity. I have done this so many times now that even the craziness seems routine. I can fit my emotions into predictable categories: Yes, I feel this now, but I know it won’t last. I know I will even out. I know it will be okay. I know there will be stress and culture shock and joy and sorrow and frustration, but I know it. None of it surprises me anymore. And there is something deeply comforting about that.

My Children Are Not Missionaries

By Amy Medina

On March 18, 2017

In Other

We recently bought plane tickets for six for our upcoming home assignment. (We leave in two weeks!) If we had wanted our kids’ tickets to be tax deductible, we had to prove to the IRS that they would be participating in our “work” while in the States. Namely, that they would be a important part of our presentations. Which means that we would pretty much parade them around and have them sing or recite facts any time we talked about Tanzania.

We decided to just pay the tax on their tickets.

Because Gil and I are the missionaries. Our kids are not.

Our kids are already growing up with a pretty convoluted picture of America. They are Tanzanian by blood and by birth, but are growing up with American parents…while still in Tanzania. It’s already pretty confusing, so if we bring them to America and parade them around like shiny ponies, that doesn’t help anything.

Home assignment can be really hard on kids. It usually consists of lots of travel, lots of new people, lots of different beds, and lots of attention. It’s definitely not “normal” life. And it will continue to get harder on my kids as they get older. It’s not so difficult for a four-year-old to visit a new church and make friends instantly. It’s a lot harder on a nine or eleven-year-old. And we’ll be visiting at least five different churches and innumerable small groups.

Gil and I are called to be missionaries. We want our kids to just be kids. So when we’re in the States, we’re going to try hard not to put pressure on them to perform. They most likely won’t participate in our presentations (maybe Grace will, since she loves that sort of thing). Sometimes they might choose to stay home with Grandma instead of attending a meeting with us, and that will be okay. We know everyone loves our kids and might be disappointed if they are not always with us, but that’s just how it might have to be.

And honestly, we all will need your grace. Our kids are not perfect. One of them has significant struggles in controlling emotions. Another clams up and gets stubborn when in new or overwhelming situations. And considering that they all will be adapting to so many new places, with very little schedule and often inconsistent bedtimes, they are not always going to be at their best.

But if you know our family, you can help.

When you see our kids, yes, please greet them and welcome them and make them feel comfortable. But keep in mind that even though thousands of people in California know them, they only remember a handful. They probably don’t remember you. And some of our kids might start getting really uneasy around the constant stream of strangers who want to hug them. It’s hard for me to predict. They are different people than they were three years ago, so I’m not sure how they will respond this time.

So tell them your name. Tell them how you know us. And ask them some questions. But please, ask the same kinds of questions you would ask any other kid. You know, like, What’s your favorite color? or Do you have a pet? or What’s your favorite book or sport?

Try not to ask them questions that will force them make judgments about where they live. For example, avoid asking them if they like America or Tanzania better. Or what they like best about living in Tanzania. Or any questions that make them compare the two countries. First of all, they simply don’t have the maturity or experience yet to even know how to answer those questions. And second, I try not to have them think about which place is best. They both are best; they are just different. And they are still figuring out what those differences are.

You can ask me those questions all day; I won’t mind. But my kids just aren’t ready to do that kind of processing. I mean, if I asked your children, What do you like about living in America? They would probably just look at me blankly and reply, Uhhh….I like my puppy.

Of course, if you are talking to my kids, or introducing them to a Sunday School Class, it’s great to acknowledge that they are from Tanzania, because it’s obviously a part of who they are. But don’t expect them to tell you about our ministry. They are not the missionaries. What they need most is to be treated like any other visitor, instead of put on display as some sort of special attraction.

Gil and I understand that being put on display while we are in the States is part of our job. It comes with the territory. But my kids….I just want them to figure out what it’s like to be a normal American kid. After all, one day, that’s an identity they will need to understand.

Please Ask Me the Non-Spiritual Questions

By Amy Medina

On March 3, 2017

In Other

I’m over at A Life Overseas today with a plea for our friends at home….

When we’re on furlough and giving presentations about our
ministry as missionaries, we always end with, “Does anyone have any questions?”

A hand goes up. And
the question is inevitable.

“How can we pray for you?”
Every. Single. Time.

Sometimes someone will ask to know more about our
ministry. Or a person we are investing
in. Or maybe, “What has God been
teaching you?”

The questions, almost
always, are spiritual.

This is not a bad thing.
Of course, we’re thrilled people want to pray for us. We are excited if they are excited about our ministry. But do you know what we long to be asked?

The non-spiritual questions.

Sure, our ministry is extremely important to us. But that’s only part of the picture of our lives overseas. We moved to the other side of the world. We landed in a country that most people only
see on the news. We had to learn new
ways of shopping, cooking, eating, sleeping, educating, traveling, parenting,
and talking. It was not easy. In fact, it was the hardest thing we’ve ever
done.

We are different people now. And it is bursting out of us. We might look the same on the outside, but we
are totally different on the inside. And
you know what? We long to talk about it with you.
We desperately want you to be
interested in all of our other life,
not just the spiritual parts.

My husband and I have been missionaries for 13 years
now. And I must admit: The people back home who ask us the
non-spiritual questions are few and far between. In fact, they are so rare that they stand out
in my memory by name.

I’m not sure why there are so few people who ask the
non-spiritual questions. I think that
sometimes, folks just don’t know where to start. Or maybe they think that they already should
know all those things and they don’t want to look stupid. Or maybe they just assume that we don’t
really want to talk about such mundane things.
(After all, we’re super spiritual…right?)

So let me just re-iterate:
Please, ask us the non-spiritual
questions. We missionaries would love to answer them.

Not sure where to start?

That’s easy. Start with what you are interested in.

Read the rest over here at A Life Overseas.

Those Kids…Are They American or Not?

By Amy Medina

On February 26, 2017

In Third Culture Kids

Last night we had a dinner-time discussion on what a Peep is. I have no idea how this came up. My kids don’t remember what they are, so I gave them a description because I am feeling the urgency of what they don’t know about America.

Granted, I don’t even like Peeps. And I am not looking forward to my children consuming them this Easter. Or, for that matter, any of the various forms of garbage that are disguised as food in America. But they should at least be able to recognize those marshmallow American Easter icons.

We get on a plane exactly five weeks from today, and we’ll be in California for four months.

It’s been almost three years since we were in America. My kids were 8, 6, and 5 the last time we were there. Now they are 11, 9, and 8. And then there’s Johnny, who at age 5 has no conception of this mystical land we keep talking about.

As the oldest, Grace has the most memories about the States. She also has an uncanny knack for remembering people and names. (I think she remembers more people than her Dad does.) But an 11-year-old is entirely different than an 8-year-old. This time, she will be experiencing America in an entirely different way. All of them will.

We have thrust these dual identities on these children, whether they like it or not. I think I see it more acutely because our children have Tanzanian blood, are being raised in Tanzania, but by American parents. They’ve learned to say “Good morning” to white people and “Shikamoo” to brown people. They eat rice and beans multiple times every week, but wouldn’t recognize a box of macaroni and cheese if it hit them in the face. We insist they use a knife and fork, but the children on the side of the fence eat with their hands.

They saw The Force Awakens and Rogue One on opening day–both times–but they have no idea how amazing it is that they didn’t have to wait in line. They know Pizza Hut is a special treat, but they think it’s normal to rip up the box to make plates, since the restaurant here doesn’t provide them. They are used to trying on used Nike sneakers at the local open air market instead of going to Payless. Oh, and they think sneakers are called trainers.

They watched the last 30 minutes of the World Series and the Super Bowl–delayed, of course. But Josiah is insanely obsessed with (British) Premier League Soccer, which he insists can only be called Football. They came home from school asking if Trump is kicking all the black people out of America, because that’s what their friends said.

Lily loves her American Girl doll, but straps her to her back with a kanga, Tanzanian style. Josiah learned how to dab from….somewhere. He also learned that flipping bottles is fun. (Seriously? Of all the ideas America had to export?) But he doesn’t know what a Peep is.

I am incredibly grateful that my kids have Haven of Peace Academy, because there they have their own culture. It’s a mixed-up, semi-western, very international melting pot of ideas and cultures and trends. Most of the children there are confused about their ethnicity and identity, so my children fit right in. I’m thankful. But I also worry, because I’ve given these children American passports. And chances are good that at some point in their lives, they will be living there for a lot longer than just a few months.

The great thing about kids is that they just go with it. My children have no idea that it’s crazy that they have two passports, that they have already criss-crossed the world a number of times, that international travel is normal for them. Or even more, they haven’t realized that it’s unusual to grow up as Tanzanian children of American missionaries.

I worry because this time around, they may start to feel that tension. They are kind of American, but kind of not. Kind of Tanzanian, but kind of not. The Third-Culture Kid paradox is even more acute because my children are adopted. Who are they? Who will they identify with? Where will they feel at home? That struggle looms large before them. They don’t see it yet, but I do.

I gave them this struggle. It is my fault. I have to trust that it was the right decision, that giving them a family will be worth the struggle in the long run. I chose this life for them, and all I can do is hope and pray that they continue to love it. That they become bridge-builders, reconcilers, peace-makers. That they ultimately find their identity as children of God and citizens of Heaven.