Our truck made the turn off the main road and into Kozzika. Although we make the journey numerous times each week to hold the clinic, the sights never fail to captivate me. It's as if we've entered a completely new land, spanning as far as the eye can see - all views showing the same scene. One unfinished brick building after another, along dusty dry dirt roads that bear no names. The children run towards the car, some smiling and waving, others banging and throwing stones, sticks, whatever they can find. Other children are walking down the road kicking empty propane tanks, the most popular toy here. None of them attend school. Up until now i knew them only as my patients at the clinic. I knew nothing of what life consisted of for them outside of the exam room. I knew nothing about them except what they would tell me about how their children have worms, lice, cuts, infections, etc.. I examine them, give them some medication, and we go our separate ways. Today I was going to a home. We were going to visit some of the ladies and just spend time with them.

We walked down the dusty road through little alleyways, past the men who stand with crates of extremely old-looking vegetables...past the crowds gathered to pick up bread from the men making it in a little cement cubby... And finally to a pile of broken bricks and garbage leading into a small alley that was home to 4 families. They all ran out to greet us, the kids running up grabbing our hands and giving endless hugs and kisses, happily shouting "izzayik!" and pulling us inside to the one-room they all share. The room was dark, no light but the sun trickling in through the holes in the roof made from tin and wood sheets layed out over some beams. The floors were hard dirt, with a small rug in the middle that had almost become indistinguishable from the rest of the ground. We sat on something that felt like a hollow wooden box, covered with an old sheet. to the left and right were piles of dirty clothes that would be worn and reworn by whoever happened to get their hands on them. 5 or 6 women ran in to sit on the floor in front of us, bringing their children. More and more children seemed to pile in to the already crowded area. They pushed and shoved and hit each other as they normally do to get to where we were handing out bananas. The women gathered around our feet as we tried to speak with them. We examined some of the sick children and gave one of the older boys some money to get to the pharmacy and buy some medications. One young girl (younger than me) came in with her newborn baby. I held the baby for over an hour...this little child who hadn't even been on this earth more than a couple of months. Since diapers are a luxury most in kozzika do not have, the baby had gone to the bathroom a number of times in her little pants, and nothing was changed. There was sweat seeping through the layers of clothes she had on, and spit up/milk/other stuff caked on her shirt smelling as if it had been there for days. There was no food to be seen, no running water to be found, and doubtfully any electricity. There was a saddness that was unexplainable, and a simplistic life i just can not fathom. It seems all they wanted (women and children alike) was for someone to sit with them, pay attention to them, and make them feel like they mattered. That someone in this world knew who they were. That they were important enough to be remembered and acknowledged. As i was holding the little baby, i kept looking into her eyes and telling her that she was going to rise up and conquer all of this. That she was going to get an education, that she would become healthy and strong. That she would learn how to read and write and be an independant thinker. That she would come to an understanding that she is an important, beautiful girl who has the whole world open before her. I told her not to settle here, not to believe the lies that this is it. While I know she couldn't understand me, i wanted with all my heart to believe that she could. And even more than that, i wanted to believe it myself. I wanted to believe that there was a way to save this town. And the billions of people all over the world that live like this. That lay their heads down to sleep each night on dirt floors, that don't know when the next time they'll eat will be, that watch their children get deathly ill and can not afford treatment for them. That have to live with the guilt or helplessness of not being able to provide for their children. That have no hope. I began to see that this was a city of living dead. There is something in their eyes that cry out "even though i am still breathing, i am already dead". As we drove away something was just so impressed on my heart. Who will make a change here? If I don't do it, how do i know someone else will? But where can I start? And what can i do? It is such a big need, it is such an endless fight, and i am such a little person. Really, there is much i have to come to terms with. I have no idea how long I will have the priviledge of being with the women and children of Kozzika. But there is a world full of people who's circumstances are the same. They need hope, they need to feel loved. It is so hard to tell them about God's love, because it is illegal. They could get killed for converting from Islam, and we could be arrested for speaking about it. So it becomes what I think is really the true testimony of the faith - letting your actions speak louder than your words. It is more of a challenge to have your demeanor and your character reflect God. It makes you accountable to be so full of the character of Jesus that it becomes evident that there is something that sets you apart - something they must have. Something greater than money, material goods, etc... Each day is truly a life changing, eye-opening experience here. I wish often that there could be someone else from home to come join me on this wonderful adventure. I wish I could convey the feeling of being able to be here...it far outweighs anything life in America has to offer.


On all other fronts, things are going exceptionally well. As always, there is never a dull moment. This weekend we took a trip up to Alexandria and had great time just taking in the sites, eating the freshest fish the Mediterranean has to offer, and just sitting on the sea enjoying the company of our newly formed family. Anddd, after much much research and failed attempts at locating it - we finally scouted out the first Starbucks to open in all of Africa. Turns out the grand opening was this week so at around midnight (after being up since 5am!) we made the trek out by metro (subway) and taxi...and had a wonderful taste of home :) This week we had a surprise party for Jen, with lots of great laughs (i am officially known here for my very important position as uniform manager for marching band!), great food, and great friends. Book club on Friday was great...we have a wonderful time just getting to know each girl individually. Arabic classes are coming along and each week i can see that we are making great strides.

Jen and I sat down today and made an outline of all the things we want to accomplish this month. We've got lots of projects to work on for all sorts of things, the clinic, health classes, book club, sunday school, and other various things. Should be very, very, busy. This weekend the two of us are climbing up Mount Sinai on camels! You begin the trek at about 3am and get to the top in time to watch the sun rise. It is really incredible to be in a land where there is such history. I am not sure what I am going to feel when i stand at the place where it is believe Moses recieved the 10 commandments. It is so surreal at times. In Alexandria i thought much about what the land looked like years ago when Alexander the Great made his way through.

Okay, better get to bed. Early day tomorrow. I pray all is well with everyone back home.

Much love,
Nicole

here are some pictures from Alexandria: