Walk, Bike, or Swim

Yesterday I was laying down on our living room floor during our afternoon rest time when I saw a bicycle ride up right to our front door. I got up expecting to tell a Daasanech man that Caleb wasn't here and to come back later, but much to my surprise there was a Japanese tourist at the door! He'd ridden his bike from across the Kenyan border that day, and was wondering how much further it was to Omo Raate (the closest town and where immigration is located). I told him it was about 7 more kilometers and then across the river before the town, and asked if he needed any water or anything. I was having trouble not staring at him in fascination--these tourists, especially the ones on foot or on bike, are so out of my realm of understanding. WHY? It was 108 degrees in my kitchen and here was this poor soul riding his bike through the deep sand in the heat of the day, through a country where he couldn't communicate with anyone, on roads that are just as likely to disappear as take you where you want to go.

Caleb returned and spent some time talking about the road he would take to his next destination. Turns out he started in Morocco, has been travelling for 5 years, through parts of Europe, the Middle East, and now Africa. He's on his fourth bike in 5 years. We started to feel responsible for him--sending him out on a road Caleb knows is difficult, if not impossible, to find and follow, but then realized that this has been his life for the last half-decade, and surely he's encountered worse.

Before he left he asked Caleb, "How many rivers are there to cross between now and Maagi (further north)?" Rivers evidently are a major obstacle because apparently on this trek of his, this slight Japanese man can ONLY walk, bike, or swim. So for example when he reaches Omo Raate, he will hire a boat to take his bike across the river while he swims beside it. He'll go to immigration to get stamped into the country, and then have to swim all the way back across because the road he is travelling is on this side of the river.

This world is full of people I will never understand.

14 Diapers

That's how many diapers I have left for Ezra. And 49 nights left until we go
back to town.

So I'm trying all I can to get him nighttime potty-trained. He does pretty
well sometimes, but not lately. Being as warm as it is here during the day
and most nights, both kids have always taken a water bottle to bed. Of
course, chugging a full water bottle all night long doesn't really help the
potty situation. Starting last week, I've tried to requisition Ezra's water
bottle. It isn't working out too well. He's goes to bed fine without it, but
every night since I took it away, he comes into my room about 11:30, wanting
his water bottle. So then I have a battle-between knowing I am two weeks
away from no diapers, and wanting to fall back into bed. Usually, he gets
his water bottle, and I get to go back to bed. Last night as I walked out of
his room, a quiet little voice came from the dark corner of his bed: "Mama,
thanks for cold water." Somehow the sweetness makes everything okay at 12
am.

Little does he know that soon he'll be going to bed in plastic bags stuffed
with toilet paper.

The Power of Bauer

Caleb and I have been 24 fans since we spent 5 months in Holland, Michigan,
which has a GREAT library and we were able to check out every season of 24
and literally spend 5 days of our life in front of the television. The love
affair has continued across the ocean, as our family has kept us supplied
with all the seasons of 24. We just received season 7 within the last month,
and Jack Bauer has been keeping us living on adrenaline every night since.
It was a sad night indeed when we finished the season two nights ago. "So You
Think You Can Dance" just doesn't provide quite the same kick.