Rowdy Ruffians and Tough Tormentors

Sometimes people ask me what I do at École L'Eau-Vive. 

Sometimes, I wonder myself, because I wear several different hats. I imagine if I asked different students, I'd get a variety of different answers.

For instance ~

I'm not a teacher, although I certainly do do lots of teaching. 

I'm not an "orthopedagogue" or learning specialist, although I lead reading workshops and help students who struggle with reading learn specific decoding and comprehension strategies. I also write several intervention plans, or individualized education plans, each year.

I'm far from being a parenting coach, yet students' parents have been known to ask me for advice or suggestions, and not just about homework strategies.

I am a missionary and often have amazing conversations with kids about Jesus, who he is and what he came to earth to do. Working at a Christian school, however, is not a carte-blanche to talk about the Lord. I need to avoid "spiritual blackmail," where kids feel pressured to obey out of fear instead of a changed heart. Fear motivates quickly and effectively, but leaves out an important part of the Gospel - perfect love casts out fear.

When students ask me what I do, I most often say I'm like the police woman or detective for the elementary section. I spend many, many minutes helping children understand the rules and learn how to follow them; in addition, I help teach them about consequences for choosing to respect or not respect those rules.

My favorite...not favorite job (think sorry...not sorry), however, is that of mediator and peace-maker. Someone I respect exceedingly told me that that was what they saw to be one of my primary roles at the school. When wearing this hat, I'm usually dealing with violence, bullying, harassment or some other form of attack that has left at least two, and often more, injured - emotionally, physically, socially and/or spiritually. I say two because every conflict involves at least two, as both aggressors and victims are hurt by these encounters. This is especially true when working with children who are still learning all about social skills and relating to others.

Sometimes, it is easy to forget that last part... the bit about both being victims. Chris Colfer has said "When people hurt you over and over, think of them like sand paper; They may scratch and hurt you a bit, but in the end, you end up polished and they end up useless." In my role, it is important not just to help and support the victim; it is equally important to help the author of said acts understand the impact of what they have done as well as to teach them other ways to respond.

God provided me with an unpleasant lesson this weekend that I hope will help me as I intervene, intercede, mediate and adjudicate in school-related conflicts. While I never condone the actions of a bully, I can actually have a harder time identifying with and understanding those who allow others to walk all over them... 

My recent "lesson" gave me more than just a glimpse of that perspective. 

Friday and Saturday, we had a huge dump of snow. I think the final total snow accumulation was around 40 cm (16 inches), and it was blowing a blizzard for a day and a half. 

Saturday, however, was beautiful and busy. Snowplows and other snow removal vehicles were out in full force, which wreaks havoc with the traffic. Of course, living in Quebec, I quickly learned to appreciate those who do that job, for its better to put up with temporary inconvenience to have improved road conditions. I ran out to take Anna to her horseback riding lesson, and was hurrying back home because I had several things I wanted to get done during the afternoon. I followed another car into the parking lot for our apartment complex only to discover that they'd started plowing the snow and wanted us to clear the parking lot. 

The car before me pulled into a parking place, turned around and pulled out. I started to do the same and the driver of the snow plow started wildly gesticulating, clearly indicating that he did not want me to do that. I motioned, trying to indicate that I simply wanted to turn - around instead of having to back down a small hill, back up the other side and then out into snow plow traffic. He disagreed. 

He lifted the blade up, literally charged directly at my car, slammed the blade down just in front of me, creating a yellow metal wall wider and taller than the hood of our Infiniti. Then he started moving slowly towards me as though he would literally shove me, back end first down... up... and then out into the road. I was shocked and afraid, genuinely fearing he'd plow right into me.  I didn't stand my ground because I just wanted outta there! And so? I backed down the hill, up the hill and threaded my way amongst the other snow removal machines on our road (mildly traumatizing in and of itself). Then I spent the next thirty minutes driving around our large block, my eyes full of tears and castigating myself, all the while "thinking very ungenerous thoughts" about that snow plow driver.

I definitely got a taste of what it feels like to be bullied. Funny thing? I figured once I calmed down, it would just "go away." But it hasn't. I keep replaying it in my mind, getting angry once again at the dude and at myself. I've been much quicker to take offense when others have disagreed with or confronted me about something, even something banal and stupid, ever since. I feel guilty for not standing my ground (my kids were all really surprised that I didn't), even ashamed. My walk didn't measure up to my talk, and my gang has been spot-on in making sure that I know that.

Thankfully, my hubby is going to stand up for me now, even though I wasn't able to do so in the moment. He's going to talk to the administration of our apartment building, denouncing the behavior of that snow plow driver.

If I ever wondered about the importance or the relevance of what I'm doing each day, this weekend proved it to me...

My pain may be the reason for somebody's laugh. 

But my laugh must never be the reason for somebody's pain.     

Charlie Chaplin

Note : African proverbs images from: https://www.pinterest.fr/SimpleThingz25/african-proverbs/

In honor of summer... and mosquitoes (or moustiques... or mosquitos... or...) ...a repost!

Strangely, it is one of the things I'm thankful for this summer...

Mosquitoes.

They are bigger here than they were in W. Africa.

They definitely hurt worse when they impale you.

But I don't have to worry about my kiddos and malaria.

Other things, perhaps... but not malaria.

And since we've got a bit of a history with that disease, 

I'm thankful every time I here one of those critters buzzing in my ear, 

rub a bit of creme on a particularly itchy bite, 

or swat and kill one while it is still on the attack.

~ Hence this repost... in honor of Madame Moustique ~ 

**********************************************

One morning, a mosquito saw an iguana drinking at a waterhole. The mosquito said, "Iguana, you will never believe what I saw yesterday."

"Try me," said the iguana.

"The mosquito said, "I saw a farmer digging yams that were almost as big as I am."

"What's a mosquito compared to a yam?" snapped the iguana grumpily. "I would rather be deaf than listen to such nonsense!" Then he stuck two sticks in his ears and went off, mek, mek, mek, mek, through the reeds.

The iguana was still grumbling to himself when he happened to pass by a python.

The big snake raised his head and said, "Good morning, Iguana."

The iguana did not answer but lumbered on, bobbing his head, badamin, badamin.

"Now, why won't he speak to me?" said the python to himself. "Iguana must be angry about something. I'm afraid he is plotting some mischief against me!" He began looking for somewhere to hide. The first likely place he found was a rabbit hole, and in it he went, wasawusu, wasawusu, wasawusu.

When the rabbit saw the big snake coming into her burrow, she was terrified. She scurried out through her back way and bounded, krik, krik, krik, across a clearing.

A crow saw the rabbit running for her life. He flew into the forest crying kaa, kaa, kaa! It was his duty to spread the alarm in case of danger.

A monkey heard the crow. He was sure that some dangerous beast was prowling near. He began screeching and leaping kili wili through the trees to help warn the other animals.

As the monkey was crashing through the treetops, he happened to land on a dead limb. It broke and fell on an owl's nest, killing one of the owlets.

Mother Owl was not at home. For though she usually hunted only in the night, this morning she was out searching for one more tidbit to satisfy her hungry babies. When she returned to the nest, she found one of them dead. Her other children told her that monkey had killed it. All that day and all that night, she sat in her tree -- so sad, so sad, so sad!

Now it was Mother Owl who woke the sun each day so that the dawn could come. But this time, when she should have hooted for the sun, she did not do it.

The night grew longer and longer. The animals of the forest knew it was lasting much too long. They feared that the sun would never come back.

At last King Lion called a meeting of the animals. They came and sat down, pem, pem, pem, around a council of fire. Mother Owl did not come, so the antelope was sent to fetch her.

When she arrived, King Lion asked, "Mother Owl, why have you not called the sun? The night has lasted long, long, long, and everyone is worried."

Mother Owl said, "Monkey killed one of my owlets. Because of that, I cannot bear to wake the sun."

The king said to the gathered animals:  "Did you hear? It was the monkey who killed the owlet-- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

Then King Lion called the monkey. He came before him nervously glancing from side to side, rim, rim, rim, rim.

"Monkey," said the king, "why did you kill one of Mother Owl's babies?"

"Oh, King," said the monkey, "it was the crow's fault. He was calling and calling to warn us of danger. And I went leaping through the trees to help. A limb broke under me and it fell taaa on the owl's nest."

The king said to the council: "So, it was the crow who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

Then the kind called for the crow. That big bird came flapping up. He said, "King Lion, it was the rabbit's fault! I saw her running for her life in the daytime. Wasn't that reason enough to spread the alarm?"

The king nodded his head and said to the council: "So, it was the rabbit who startled the crow, who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet -- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

Then King Lion called the rabbit. The timid little creature stood before him, one trembling paw drawn up uncertainly.

"Rabbit," cried the king, "why did you break a law of nature and go running, running, running, in the daytime?"

"Oh, King," said the rabbit, "it was the python's fault. I was in my house minding my own business when that big snake came in and chased me out."

So the king said to the council: "So, it was the pythod who scared the rabbit, who startled the crow, who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet -- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

King Lion called the python, who came slithering, wasawusu, wasawusu, past the other animals. "But King," he cried, "it was the iguana's fault! He wouldn't speak to me. And I thought he was plotting some mischief against me. When I crawled into the rabbit's hole, I was only trying to hide."

The king said to the council: "So, it was the iguana who frightened the python, who scared the rabbit, who startled the crow, who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet -- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

Now the iguana was not at the meeting. For he had not heard the summons.

The antelope was sent to fetch him.

All the animals laughed when they saw the iguana coming, badamin, badamin, with the sticks still stuck in his ears!

King Lion pulled out the sticks, purup, purup. Then he asked, "Iguana, what evil have you been plotting against the python?"

"None! None at all!" cried the iguana, "Python is my friend!"

"Then why wouldn't you say good morning to me?" demanded the snake.

"I didn't hear you, or even see you!" said the iguana. "Mosquito told me such a big lie, I couldn't bear to listen to it. So I put sticks in my ears."

"Nge, nge, nge," laughed the lion. "So that's why you had sticks in your ears!"

"Yes," said the iguana. "It was the mosquito's fault."

"So, it was the mosquito who annoyed the iguana who frightened the python, who scared the rabbit, who startled the crow, who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet -- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

"Punish the mosquito! Punish the mosquito!" cried all the animals.

When Mother Owl heard that, she was satisfied. She turned her head toward the east and hooted: "Hoo! Hoooooo! Hooooooo!"

And the sun came up.

Meanwhile the mosquito had listened to it all from a nearby bush. She crept under a curly leaf and was never found and brought before the council.

But because of this, the mosquito has a guilty conscience. To this day she goes about whining in people's ears: "Zeee! Is everyone still angry at me?"

When she does that, she gets an honest answer:

"Kuh -POW!"

first photo credit: Johan J.Ingles-Le Nobel via photopin cc

~ of ants and reconciliation ~

...otherwise known as the day a prolific ant infestation was a great blessing!

You know what?

Sometimes cousins are great buddies.

Other times?

Well, let's just say that other times the mix of personalities makes getting along difficult. Especially when each child is the youngest sibling and both have learned very well the lesson that sometimes you have to push back to get your way.

They were having a hard time getting along the other day... and I had a long to-do list to accomplish, a talk at a seminar to prepare, and my long-suffering reserve tanks were on empty as I'd not been getting enough sleep due to sick kids not sleeping well. It really was one of those days where I was seriously considering finding out if I could enroll both girls in the full day K4 program for the remainder of the school year just so I didn't pull my hair out.

Then they started playing with ants.

We see many ants in our kitchen - and as long as they stay out of the food, they really don't bother me. 

It ain't nothing like it was in Niger. Most times, we had one or the other of two kinds of ant. Little red ones that are similar to fire ants. Or big black ants that kind of looked like carpenter ants except they bit and when they bit, it hurt as badly as a bee sting. Occasionally, we'd also see sugar ants (our local friends ate those), but other than the fact that they were so big certain of our children would freak out when they saw them, they weren't such a big deal.

He who runs from the white ant may stumble upon the stinging ant.

~ Hausa proverb ~

Here, however, ants aren't anything more than an annoyance.

And now, they qualify as entertainment as well.

M&M and her cousin had already been having a bad week. One girl wanted whatever toy it was that the other was playing with. They taunted each other over what was in their lunch boxes. They tattled nonstop. Almost constant hollers of "That's not fair!" or "I'm just not going to play with you any more if you won't do it my way!" echoed throughout the house. I was almost ready to violate my rule of allowing littles to work out their own problems and put them both down for a nap, when all of a sudden, M&M started screaming about the ants crawling around on the kitchen floor.

Her cousin joined her. Pretty soon they were constructing mazes to see if the ants could get out. Then they built a whole city out of legos for the ants to inhabit. Jonathan has an "insect habitat" to start collecting bugs for his 4th grade bug collection next year. The girls found that, brought the small vacuum insect catcher out and started collecting ants with it and placing those ants in Jon's habitat. They started looking under the counters, on the counters, in the sink, crawling up the wall, under the dishrag. Soon, they'd collected several ants and deposited them into Jonathan's "habitat."

And they were having a blast. All of the chairs were scooted out, away from the table. The floor really needed a sweeping, but that was part of what was attracting those critters. They sat on the floor, underneath the table - squealing, laughing, screaming, digging out the "Gladware" and concocting ant traps - for literally 2.5 hours, without a single argument.

I was surprised...

Except I shouldn't have been.

At least on that day, they discovered and put into practice some pretty amazing wisdom!

It is mind boggling (though it shouldn't be) how a common goal often allows us to put aside our differences, our arguments, or irritations and work together to achieve what neither would have accomplished on our own.... how even five year olds stop ugly words without any mama/auntie-prompting once discovering that no one likes to help ugly word spouters... how the two of them, together, discovered they could catch together many more ants than either did by themselves... how there's so much fun to be had if we simply stop thinking about self and what we want most and instead start really looking at and listening to others to help them achieve their goals and dreams.

"The biting fly has no one to come to his aid in trouble."

(African proverb)

"If you want to go fast - go alone. if you want to go far - go together."
(Another African proverb)

Two Roads Overcame the Hyena

Drawing found at dragoart.com

I love fables and all of those African tales told to teach a lesson or make a point...

And yes, I HAVE shared this particular story before...

I'm talking about it again, but in a different place and with an edited, slightly different twist this time... 

You know you are curious and want to check it out, right? 

So head on over to Missionary Mom's Companion and read the rest of the story!

5 Minute Friday ~ Perspective

Once again, joining Lisa-Jo at Gypsy Mama for 5 Minute Friday...

"On Fridays over here a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.

Your words. This shared feast.

If you have five minutes, we double dog dare you to spend it writing here.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments.

OK, are you ready? The Gypsy Mama Facebook late night crew is my new muse come 10pm Thursday night, so please give me your best five minutes on their choice..."

Ready... Go!

Perspective…

"People only see what they are prepared to see." – Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Before criticizing a man, walk a mile in his shoes."
- Old English Proverb

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"Bad is called good when worse happens."
- Norwegian Proverb

 "When others see a shepherd boy, God may see a king."

- Ray Boltz and Steve Millikan

"Is the glass half empty or half full?" (recently wrote about this myself)

“Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means that you've decided to look beyond the imperfections.”

"A flower is a weed seen through joyful eyes."

- Jonathan Lockwood Huie

"When one door closes another opens.

But often we look so long, so regretfully, upon the closed door,

that we fail to see the one that is opened for us."

- Helen Keller

Perspective is one of those things I think about a lot - hence my collection of quotes above. These are my favorites and I could have included more, but recently I read a parable that says more better than I ever could, so let me simply retell, in my own words...

"A hurricane had ravished the island, leaving a monkey stranded watching the waves crash along the shore. While taking count of his situation and waiting for the waters to calm and recede, the monkey notices a fish struggling to swim against the current. Obviously, the fish was in need of help and so the monkey decided to take a risk and help his fellow creature.

One branch from the tree in which he was sitting extended out over the water, right above where the fish was thrashing and struggling to make way in the abusive surf. Even though it entailed danger and risk, the monkey inched far out on that limb and hanging down as far as he could stretch, snatched the fish from the thundering waves. The monkey then scampered back to safety, clutching the fish close to him so he wouldn't drop it. Well back from the raging waters, he delicately laid the fish on the beach. For several minutes, the fish seemed excited and delighted, flipping and flopping around, but soon it settled down and slipped into a restful sleep, probably for the first time since the storm began.

The monkey was pleased with himself, for he had helped another. That poor fish would've died without his intervention."

 Stop! 
(5 and 1/2 minutes... I had to finish the story!)

The monkey parable came from a book I'm currently reading titled Cross-Cultural Servanthood: Serving the World in Christlike Humility, by Duane Elmer

If a quote is not properly attributed, or there is no attribute and you can correct me, please do!

Hunkering down, hanging out on the floor...

"Don’t expect to be offered a chair

when you are visiting a place where the chief sits on the floor."

~ W. African proverb ~

I love African proverbs - not only do they often express incredible wisdom, sometimes they are just downright funny. I can easily imagine a version of the one above as a political cartoon... but I don't really like to talk about politics... too much...

So, back to today's point... As I've mentioned before, I've been teaching a literacy class all summer... we've now met together at Mamata's concession somewhere between 50 and 60 times. Every day, she has pulled out a large, comfortable cushiony chair for me to sit in, with a tea table right in front of it. She then seats herself on the ground - and yes, she is 70ish years old. What usually ends up happening is that I'll sit in the chair for two or three minutes while I pull my things out and then I move down to the ground so that I'm on the same level as my students and don't use the chair the rest of the time... but it is still always out on the terrace, waiting for me, to show respect, honor, welcome and appreciation for what I am doing - helping her learn how to read.

However, if I showed up and there was no chair on the terrace, I would certainly not be offended. I don't expect her to go to all that effort for those very few minutes that I actually sit in the chair before needing to move to her same level to facilitate instruction. I do get the idea, however, that she has encountered some who would expect royal treatment when visiting her concession.

I was checking out my favorite blog recently, and read this. We expect that if we are obeying, serving God, life will go well - well as humanly defined. We expect the rebellious to suffer hard and painful consequences. We expect that if we work hard, we will succeed - or that those who benefit from our work will at least acknowlege our efforts and say thank you. We expect those who refuse work to not succeed and often, in fact, to lose what they do have. The Bible does teach that whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap... that a tree is known by its fruit... that God will reward and repay. It is just that somewhere deep inside we're convinced we're entitled to see the meting out of consequences and recompense. Like Thomas, I prefer to walk by sight and not by faith and in that, I've got it backwards

This isn't the first time I've shared a bit about what God's showing me regarding my expectations and how easily I allow my expectations to lead me down a sinful path.... I can name several recently dashed expectations (ones in which I actually felt pretty secure and sure so didn't even realize I was "counting" on them until they went unfulfilled) in each of the following relationships:

1. marriage (makes me ask myself how I've not met his expectations, too)
2. family (children and extended family)
3. friendship (nearby and far away)
4. professional (my many "jobs" outside the home)
5. self (oh... how I let myself down... but I don't think I want to lower my expectations? Do I?)

That last question has me pondering. I still believe with all my heart that I need to hold my expectations loosely, with an open hand:

• they may be unfounded...
• they may be unrealistic...
• they may be unfair...
• they may have grown out of untruths...
• they may be things to which I am unentitled...
• they are often skewed by ungodly perspectives...
• they may be unbiblical...

What is the right balance? Hoping... having right expectations... that challenge those around us to become? Expectations that encourage us to continue allowing God to work through suffering, while remaining living sacrifices on the altar? Loosely held dreams for the future? Still striving for Christ-likeness in all areas while at the same time gently trusting God's sovereignty and goodness when hopes are not met, tragedies happen, and what we confidently expected is never seen? Biblically provoking others to good works but not placing crushing burdens of "what I want" on the backs of those for whom I care and work?

What do you think?

Hate to admit it, but sometimes I act just like Python...

Earlier this week, I shared one of my favorite W. African folk tales... and said I'd get back to it later.  Guess you could officially call now "later."

*SMILE*

Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears, retold by Vera Aardema, is presently one of Elsie Mae's and Mary Michelle's favorite stories. Frankly, I think they like the pictures and listening to Mama make all sorts of funny animal noises. But reading this to the girls the other day was a bit like getting a sledgehammer between the eyes...

There are many lessons that could be pulled out of this traditional moral story... and hopefully then applied in daily life, so we can ask all sorts of questions when we read this story together:

1. Do you think Mosquito even thought about all of the bad things that would result from her silly lie?
2. Could Iguana have picked a different, better response? What would have been a better way for him to talk with Mosquito about how lies and exaggerations irritate?
3. What was silly about how Python responded? What would have been a wiser choice for him? 

~ and so on through the other different characters mentioned in the story...

I'll often ask the girls which character they feel like on a given day. Elsie Mae usually says Rabbit because she's a girl and because she would be scared of the big snake too. Mary Michelle likes to be the monkey trying to run through the trees!  And Nadia? Probably most often, she's like Mother Owl who can't do what she should when she is so sad, but as soon as she can direct her eyes away from her sadness, does what is needed and expected of her.

It is interesting to talk about how each one of the characters could have made a different decision, reacting differently to a scary, incomprehensible, unusual or hard thing in their day that might have changed the ultimate outcome. For example, how could the story have ended differently if Iguana had kindly and gently confronted Mosquito about his unbelievable and silly story instead of stomping off and putting sticks in his ears so he couldn't hear anyone?" Or, what if Crow had taken the time and initiative to simply ask Rabbit why she was running scared, and/or if there was something he could do to help?"

Lately, I've been feeling a bit like Python... and reflecting on my life daily and reading and rereading this story several times recently has given me one of those practice-what-you-preach-to-your-kids opportunites. Python immediately assumed the worst possible interpretation of his friend's lack of response to his greeting: it obviously meant that Iguana was mad at him about something. Python has no clue what he might have done to irritate or anger his friend, yet he was immediately convinced that if Iguana was so mad as to ignore him, then Iguana must be hatching a dastardly revenge plot for some reason and it was obviously aimed at Python.

Do you ever do the same thing in your relationships? Do you automatically assume, when a friend doesn't respond the way you expect, that something is hugely and catastrophically wrong? Do you get angry that a buddy didn't reply or take action in a manner you expected? Or do you consider the more likely and most obvious reasons... your friend may simply have not heard you. When Tim doesn't mumble good morning as he stumbles to brew his coffee in the morning, should I assume that he is furious with me - or just remember that generally, even though he appears to be awake, he really isn't conscious until after he's had a few sips from his cup of joe? What if my sister doesn't answer my email? Should I believe that she never thinks about or prays for our family - or simply remember that she hardly ever emails, they aren't her preferred mode of communication and it is better to text or skype if I really want to hear back from her?  What about when an email does come back - tersely worded... the bare minimum of words necessary to respond - do I presume and judge that my friend is frustrated and annoyed and therefore pull away and stop communicating... or should I remember that exhaustion and a temporarily heavy schedule factor into the equation and be thankful for the rapid response to my question?

Or maybe I'm the only one who plays these silly mind games? I'm thinking not, or the character of Python would have never shown up in a traditional tale. How about you? What do you think? How do you think that the python in this tale could have "biblically" diffused the situation. And what do you tend to do or think when one of your friends doesn't respond to your overtures in the way/ways you expected?

Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears (a West African Fable)

I love traditional tales and fables - so often, difficult truths are presented in palatable ways and people hear, understand and sometimes even change their behavior as a result. It truly is an effective teaching method and in oral societies, similar to the one in which we live, parents and teachers use it often! This particular tale is one of my favorites - and there are several "morals" or "lessons" that could be drawn from the tale... Any guesses which one is really speaking to me right now?

Read the story today - and I'll share later in the week it's timely reminder to me...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

One morning, a mosquito saw an iguana drinking at a waterhole. The mosquito said, "Iguana, you will never believe what I saw yesterday."

"Try me," said the iguana.

"The mosquito said, "I saw a farmer diggging yams that were almost as big as I am."

"What's a mosquito compared to a yam?" snapped the iguana grumpily. "I would rather be deaf than listen to such nonsense!" Then he stuck two sticks in his ears and went off, mek, mek, mek, mek, through the reeds.

The iguana was still grumbling to himself when he happened to pass by a python.

The big snake raised his head and said, "Good morning, Iguana."

The iguana did not answer but lumbered on, bobbing his head, badamin, badamin.

"Now, why won't he speak to me?" said the python to himself. "Iguana must be angry about something. I'm afraid he is plotting some mischief against me!" He began looking for somewhere to hide. The first likely place he found was a rabbit hole, and in it he went, wasawusu, wasawusu, wasawusu.

When the rabbit saw the big snake coming into her burrow, she was terrified. She scurried out through her back way and bounded, krik, krik, krik, across a clearing.

A crow saw the rabbit running for her life. He flew into the forest crying kaa, kaa, kaa! It was his duty to spread the alarm in case of danger.

A monkey heard the crow. He was sure that some dangerous beast was prowling near. He began screeching and leaping kili wili through the trees to help warn the other animals.

As the monkey was crashing through the treetops, he happened to land on a dead limb. It broke and fell on an owl's nest, killing one of the owlets.

Mother Owl was not at home. For though she usually hunted only in the night, this morning she was out searching for one more tidbit to satisfy her hungry babies. When she returned to the nest, she found one of them dead. Her other children told her that monkey had killed it. All that day and all that night, she sat in her tree -- so sad, so sad, so sad!

Now it was Mother Owl who woke the sun each day so that the dawn could come. But this time, when she should have hooted for the sun, she did not do it.

The night grew longer and longer. The animals of the forest knew it was lasting much too long. They feared that the sun would never come back.

At last King Lion called a meeting of the animals. They came and sat down, pem, pem, pem, around a council of fire. Mother Owl did not come, so the antelope was sent to fetch her.

When she arrived, King Lion asked, "Mother Owl, why have you not called the sun? The night has lasted long, long, long, and everyone is worried."

Mother Owl said, "Monkey killed one of my owlets. Because of that, I cannot bear to wake the sun."

The king said to the gathered animals:  "Did you hear? It was the monkey who killed the owlet-- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

Then King Lion called the monkey. He came before him nervously glancing from side to side, rim, rim, rim, rim.

"Monkey," said the king, "why did you kill one of Mother Owl's babies?"

"Oh, King," said the monkey, "it was the crow's fault. He was calling and calling to warn us of danger. And I went leaping through the trees to help. A limb broke under me and it fell taaa on the owl's nest."

The king said to the council: "So, it was the crow who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

Then the kind called for the crow. That big bird came flapping up. He said, "King Lion, it was the rabbit's fault! I saw her running for her life in the daytime. Wasn't that reason enough to spread the alarm?"

The king nodded his head and said to the council: "So, it was the rabbit who startled the crow, who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet -- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

Then King Lion called the rabbit. The timid little creature stood before him, one trembling paw drawn up uncertainly.

"Rabbit," cried the king, "why did you break a law of nature and go running, running, running, in the daytime?"

"Oh, King," said the rabbit, "it was the python's fault. I was in my house minding my own business when that big snake came in and chased me out."

So the king said to the council: "So, it was the pythod who scared the rabbit, who startled the crow, who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet -- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

King Lion called the python, who came slithering, wasawusu, wasawusu, past the other animals. "But King," he cried, "it was the iguana's fault! He wouldn't speak to me. And I thought he was plotting some mischief against me. When I crawled into the rabbit's hole, I was only trying to hide."

The king said to the council: "So, it was the iguana who frightened the python, who scared the rabbit, who startled the crow, who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet -- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

Now the iguana was not at the meeting. For he had not heard the summons.

The antelope was sent to fetch him.

All the animals laughed when they saw the iguana coming, badamin, badamin, with the sticks still stuck in his ears!

King Lion pulled out the sticks, purup, purup. Then he asked, "Iguana, what evil have you been plotting against the python?"

"None! None at all!" cried the iguana, "Python is my friend!"

"Then why wouldn't you say good morning to me?" demanded the snake.

"I didn't hear you, or even see you!" said the iguana. "Mosquito told me such a big lie, I couldn't bear to listen to it. So I put sticks in my ears."

"Nge, nge, nge," laughed the lion. "So that's why you had sticks in your ears!"

"Yes," said the iguana. "It was the mosquito's fault."

"So, it was the mosquito who annoyed the iguana who frightened the python, who scared the rabbit, who startled the crow, who alarmed the monkey, who killed the owlet -- and now Mother Owl won't wake the sun so that the day can come."

"Punish the mosquito! Punish the mosquito!" cried all the animals.

When Mother Owl heard that, she was satisfied. She turned her head toward the east and hooted: "Hoo! Hoooooo! Hooooooo!"

And the sun came up.

Meanwhile the mosquito had listened to it all from a nearby bush. She crept under a curly leaf and was never found and brought before the council.

But because of thi,s the mosquito has a guilty conscience. To this day she goes about whining in people's ears: "Zeee! Is everyone still angry at me?"

When she does that, she gets an honest answer:

"Kuh -POW!"

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retold by Verna Aardema

Go Ahead and VOTE!!!! ... and a GIVEAWAY, Too!!!

Last night, we attended our Sunday School class's Christmas party, and we were asked to "do something" to teach a little bit more about our lives in Africa. We came up with an activity focusing on African proverbs... and we think everyone enjoyed themselves.

That in mind, a website that I check out recently is entitled African Proverbs, Sayings and Stories. This is a fun site to explore - especially if you enjoy proverbs and other cultures... One other thing that we like is that there are explanations and biblical parallels for each spotlighted proverb. Since we firmly believe in the value of using these already accepted and popular cultural sayings to teach God's truth as a part of our ministry.

If you head over there this month, you can vote for your favorite proverb on peacebuilding... appropriate for this season where we are looking towards the time when God will bring His Peace to earth... Click on the link in this post, or look at the list of "Blogs We Like to Read" in our sidebar.

Here are the choices...

• Leave bad things, talk peace.
• Only a wise person can solve a difficult problem.
• Unity is strength.
• Where there’s a will there’s a way.
• Where there is peace, a billhook or a sickle can be used to shave your beard or cut your hair.

...so head on over and place your vote.

And, I'd like to try something new this time... the first person to leave a comment correctly guessing for which of those choices I voted will receive a small gift... from Niger, of course.

Hope to hear from many of you!

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Map from the Afriprov.org web site.

Two Roads Overcame the Hyena

"A very hungry hyena went out on the plains to hunt for food. He came to a branch in the bush road where the two paths veered off in different directions. He saw two goats caught in the thickets at the far end of the two different paths. With his mouth watering in anticipation, he decided that his left leg would follow the left path and his right leg the right path. As the two paths continued to veer in different directions he tried to follow them both at once. Finally he split in two." (...found in many African languages)

Do you know a proverb from our language or culture that says essentially the same thing? I'm thinking of one...

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Story found at afriprov.org

Drawing found at dragoart.com