Clean Feet

Earlier today I was doing the flamingo in the bathroom; meaning that I was unsteadily perched on one leg as the other danced in between the water and my nailbrush, trying desperately to get rid of the dust which clings to my feet every day after walking to and from school. Personally, I don’t know if I had ever really washed my feet before coming to Cameroon. Sure I’ve wiped my shoes on a welcome mat, but that was more of a courtesy than a necessity. Here having dirty feet is like wearing stained clothes or skipping deodorant – a big fat no no.

Anyways, in the midst of my most recent foot scrubbing I was struck by the thought that this is exactly what Jesus and his disciples did. How mind blowing that the same God who can create something from nothing, could also identify with my struggle to get the dang dirt out from between my toes. Having that particular thought at that particular moment gave me a much deeper appreciation for all the passages in the Bible that talk about feet washing.

Having loved his own who were in the world, He now showed them the full extent of his love…He got up from the table, poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet. John 13:1-5 (emphasis mine)

It might sound like nothing, but I think what made it so profound is that I don’t usually encounter things in my daily life that are so reminiscent of the days when Christ walked on earth. I don’t automatically think about God when I pick up my cell phone or check my email, but I during my daily (or twice daily) foot cleansing He is always on my mind. Instead of a chore, washing my feet has become more like a quiet time built right into my day.

Ma Famille

At the end of orientation week I moved in with my first homestay family. At first I was super nervous about pretty much everything, but I have never received such a warm welcome. I had barely walked into the house before my littlest sister (6) had me on the bed to play with my hair. She is the smallest kid ever but knows how to braid with the force of twelve grown women! I also have a little brother (3) who had already jumped all over me and kissed me several times before I realized the plastic bag he is carrying around is a pharmacy bag full of medicine for the cough/cold thing he has going on; if this is anything like my family at home I’ll be sick by week’s end. C’est la vie.

The house where I am living. The window to the right of the porch is my room.

Also in the house are two more sisters (15, 19), a brother (15), mama and papa. The kids were all really excited to see my iPod and my middle sister watched an episode of Friends with me. (Friends works really well because even if I don’t understand the French, I’ve seen the show enough times that I can predict when to laugh.) My parents both seem very excited to be hosting me and my host dad even complimented my French which was a great confidence booster given the half conjugated, rambling sentences I have been using.

My brother, Franc, who borrowed my camera to practice his self-portrait skills. There are probably 20 more like this one. (Also, every time I say his name I think of Father of the Bride and laugh a little bit inside my head.)

Perhaps the most interesting occurrence was watching an entertainment show on TV that featured a clip of an American couple during their first dance as husband and wife. As you might expect, part way through the slow dance they broke into a choreographed routine. My host family was very curious about this American tradition: Do people really dance like that in a church? It took some explaining, but I think they sort of understand.

As things start to settle into a routine with my family, school work is picking up. It’s been awhile since I’ve had to do lots of reading and paper writing and trying to break away from my family to focus has proved challenging. If only I could change "study abroad" to "vacation abroad" or "take a nap abroad."

Me, learning how to grind spices into a sauce.