Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?

Durban Dog

"Not my circus, not my monkeys." --Polish Proverb




Thanks Facebook for outing me. I was trying to keep our crazy under wraps, so it was UN-kind of you to tell all my friends that my dog was MIA. I reported the dog MISSING to a Facebook Lost and Found group in Cape Town, and within minutes my whole world knew, due to your stupid algorithm. 




Our new neighbors definitely knew our dog was missing, because we drove around the neighborhood shouting “Durban!” Actually that’s not true. Durban is a city in South Africa, so they probably thought we were drunk Americans. 




And yes, South Africans think that “Durban” is a stupid name—like Americans would smirk at a dog named Tacoma. I’ve tried to modify it—Durby, Durbs, Dave—but nothing sounds right, so Durban it is. I tell people the name sounds better in Zambia and then shrug my shoulders.




But we were in Cape Town now, and we'd managed to lose him in one day. To be fair, he RAN AWAY, but that's beside the point.




Since dogs don’t talk, I imagine Durban slipped out the gate, because he was worried we would leave him again. This dog, like many labradors, is sensitive, loyal, and a bit exceptionally needy. He felt deserted in Zambia. He didn’t know that he had to wait for his blood tests to be approved by the South African government before he could be loaded in a crate, shoved on a plane, and flown to a new place where he'd be locked in quarantine for 10 days. Come to think of it, I would have some trust issues as well, if my family did this to me.




When the pet courier company finally dropped him off, he was hysterical. I'm sure we wound him up a little. (Trying to upload video here...)




A few minutes later I took him to his first dog park. A dog park? Like a kid in a candy shop, it was sensory overload. The first thing he did was run to the fountain and jump into the murky water-- which is completely normal for a labrador to do. However we were now “those people” shouting “Durban” at a water fountain.




The next morning Eric took the boys and Durban on a hike ½ way up Table Mountain. This was Durban’s first. hike. ever. One of the charms of Zambia is that you can camp with wild animals, but Durban never joined us, because he'd be a leopard's lunch in no time.




As you can imagine, Durban thought Cape Town was incredible: a dog park and a hike in a day? When I took Alex to a birthday party, Durban decided that we were either abandoning him and/or doing something awesome without him, so he chased after us.




I only noticed he was gone when I got back. We were frantic. We had just endured three months of off-the-charts stress, and this was the proverbial fly buzzing around a pile of dog droppings.

Our summer vacation went something like this: we needed to get FBI background checks, chest x-rays and notarized copies of every official document known to man, so the whole family could zip down to the South African embassy in Los Angeles and submit our visa application in person. Go figure--my x-ray came back abnormal, which meant more tests for me.* 

Then we had annual doctor's appointments for everyone. I got my first mammogram, which turned out abnormal. That meant more testing and a biopsy which led to surgery to remove a benign tumor. 

Everyone had eye appointments and got new glasses, which Oliver managed to lose between Seattle and Cape Town. 

I did three 100-mile (Century) bike races, and despite being in the best shape of my life, was diagnosed with high blood pressure. My family does not have high blood pressure, so I had to get scans of my kidneys. Again, more doctors appointments to get that under control. 




Oliver had a scheduled tonsillectomy, but he needed an "all-clear" from his cardiologist before the anesthesiologist would knock him out. This meant more tests and doctors visits before heading to the hospital. This surgery is an outpatient procedure for typical kids, but Oliver is an overachiever and needed a three-day stint in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.




Between appointments we spent time with our loved ones, which let's be honest, always includes a good dose of drama.




After returning to Zambia we had ten days to pack up our house and move to Cape Town. 




Once arriving in Cape Town we had a ton more work to do: get bank accounts set up, buy a car, find insurance, get kids in school, find a school for Oliver, and move into a house. To make things interesting, South Africa doesn't let you get a cell phone contract until you can provide proof of address. To rent a house you need to have a bank account. To have a bank account you need a miracle from God. 




God came through for us, but by the time Durban arrived at our temporary housing, we were fragile, frayed, and on edge. To think our beloved Durban could be dead on the highway was unbearable. 




Someone suggested we post his photo and information on a Cape Town Petfinders group on Facebook, so I did.




Within the hour, a woman connected us to the people who had found our dog. When Durban tried to cross four lanes of traffic, two cars nearly hit him. A third car stopped, coaxed him into their car, and took him home. They fed him a yummy ostrich lunch and gave him lots of love. Then they took his photo and posted it to Facebook.

Why did my dog cross this road?

When we picked him up, the people actually invited us in for dinner. We declined, because, well, the afternoon had been a bit much already. 




So thanks Facebook for helping us find our dog. I forgive you for letting my secret out, because you've forced me face the truth. I cannot deny it any longer.




This is my circus, and these are my monkeys. 

*I am fine. Turns out that the growth in my lung is probably scar tissue from asthma.

Oliver Says No to Homeschool

Pick me!

"We are supposed to accept children with special needs, but as you can see, our school doesn't have a ramp for your child." -- Anonymous school from today

The school administrator's excuses are getting more ridiculous by the day. Other responses include, 

• "You are just applying now [for January 2016]? Normally our parents register when they are pregnant with their child." 
• "There's just not enough space in Cape Town schools for the children who want to go to school."
•  "Priority will be given to children who have been baptized in the Catholic Church."

These were quotes from the public schools we visited*.

The private schools are very friendly, and will even give me an application. However, each school has told me that they have already made their decisions for next year. Best of luck.

After hearing this from a dozen schools, I am discouraged. Not one person has asked specific questions about Oliver. They see a face with Down syndrome and assume that he needs a ramp to get into the school.

To be fair, he hasn't mastered riding up stairs on his bicycle yet. Perhaps his physical therapist can work on that this week.

This is just one of those rare occasions when Down syndrome kicks me in the gut. Most of life with Oliver is normal. Some days are phenomenal. Then there are those rare days when I pray for his disabilities to disappear, in the Name of Jesus! 

We are praying this week. Oliver's delays shouldn't be deal breakers. We will pay for a private facilitator to help him through the school day. We will continue his speech and occupational therapies. And at home we will work hard to help him close the gap.

We just need a great partner school to take a chance on us. Anyone?

* I can't imagine the situation in low-income parts of town. A psychologist told me Sunday that 38% of the Cape Town population is addicted to meth. But that is a blog post for a different time...

The Next Chapter

Goodbye Gift from Eric's Team at World Vision

"And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.”--Sylvia Plath

Wow. If I spend one more minute with my family in confined spaces, I am going to lose it. I almost had a panic attack on the top of the Ferris wheel in Cape Town the other night. Isaac had been eyeing it since our arrival last Sunday, so I made him a deal: figure out how much it would cost for our whole famly to go on it if we had a 20% discount.

So that's how I found myself trapped in a small cabin with everyone. We were told the ride would last 12 minutes--4 times around total. It lasted 30 minutes, because we spent half of the time suspended 40 meters in the air (over 3 stories high), and I think they added several more rotations to make up for the delay. We were begging to get off of the thing by the time we were done.

That Ferris wheel represents my life in so many ways.

Self-Portrait

Last spring Eric found out that his contract in Zambia wouldn't be renewed in January. He was encouraged to pursue some other opportunities as soon as possible, because the region had some budget cuts.

The stress was tremendous. We had our home-leave back to Seattle scheduled for July, and now we were in crisis mode. World Vision offered Eric generous opportunities both in Seattle and in other countries, and we suddenly had big choices. Choices which led to epic arguments. Epic arguments which earned Eric an amazing knick-knack.*

The knick knack: Actual size is 60 cm x 91 cm

Then a good friend offered Eric a job at World Bicycle Relief (WBR), a partner with World Vision. It's all about getting bikes to people so they can get where they need to go: school, the market, the clinic. When you are out in the bush, the nearest clinic can take hours to walk to--which is a bummer if you are critically ill.

So now we are in Cape Town, South Africa starting a new life. So far, so good, except it takes time to find friends and community. Loneliness is the hardest part about being an ex-pat, so saying goodbye to the friends we made during the last four years is awful:

• Our home church "Crazy Church" made up of parents raising kids with disabilities  
• Suzen, our blessed housekeeper and her son Daniel who was Oliver's best friend 
• The insane ex-pats who choose to live in Zambia, because they want the country to flourish.
• Our Zambian friends, from prisoners to organic farmers to artists to government officials and especially Eric's colleagues at World Vision, who welcomed us. I will miss you. Goodbye and thank you for giving us the honor of living in your country. I pray that the electricity comes back soon, my friends.

*All about the Knick Knack: This tradition started in our marriage 13 years ago after a terrible fight. Eric hates trinkets, so I bought him an atrocious one and displayed it on our mantle. This was therapeutic for both of us: the little piece of ugliness reminded us of why we should never, ever fight. Perhaps one day he will learn...

Teaching in Prison

Katherine:  The Teacher's Pet

He who opens a school door closes a prison.  --Victor Hugo

Mr. Hugo, I am not so naïve to think that education alone would eliminate crime.  But having taught literacy to a handful of women in an African prison, I wonder if my students had had the chance to go to school, perhaps things would have turned out differently for them.

Take Katherine* for example.  She is a mother and a grandmother, and when I met her in September, she didn't know her ABCs or how to write her name.  Although I am not allowed to ask why women are in prison, she told me.  She was sentenced to a year in jail for selling marijuana.

Katherine's letter after 3 months of class.

I show up twice a week and teach, so women like Katherine have a chance to learn. Christine, my side-kick joins me. Our class meets outside on picnic tables.

There isn't much to the prison:  the cell block, the restrooms, and the muddy/dusty courtyard.  There is now a one-room preschool for children and a sewing room for the tailoring program.

There is a whole lot of life happening here:

• Women cooking maize porridge on charcoal burners and scrubbing laundry in tubs.
• A group of toddlers climbing on a pile of 15 meter long re-bar and chasing each other with sticks.
• A woman butchering a chicken a few meters from my class.
• Thousands of flies swarming everything.
• Women in my literacy class learning to write their ABCs.

During Christmas I hauled in an African Christmas tree and we made decorations.  I asked people to write something they were thankful about on a tag, and hang it on a branch.

African Christmas Tree

Then Alex and Isaac's school did a Christmas fundraiser for me. We were able to buy three iSchool androids.  They cost about $200 each and they contain the entire Zambian curriculum in multiple languages for grade 1-7.   These magic tablets make my job easier, because I don't have to lesson plan for a revolving door of students at different levels.

iSchool Tablets

The other day I met Katherine as she was released from prison.  I dropped her off at the bus station, (where I took her photo) and she headed off to re-start her life.  She was my most eager and faithful student, so it was bittersweet to see her leave.

Katherine tells me prison changed her.  She found God in a place "that I hate."

It won't be an easy journey, but who am I kidding?  These women that I meet each week are tough--tougher than I could hope to ever be.

All I can do is pray they understand that they can learn to read, no matter how old they are.

They we just need to give to give them a chance.

*Name is changed