Warning:  I have a feeling I might sound cynical in the post.

Disclaimer: I don't mean to be.  I just don't want to beat around the bush. 

OK, maybe it's just because every Christian young person I know right now in the States wants to come to Africa "for the children" that I'm feeling a stirring to rant a little about cross-cultural living.  Here it comes...

Making the choice to leave what is familiar and go take up residency where it is not familiar is not a game we play because we got high at Christian camp.  (Ouch.  That was harsh.)

This is not a vacation/adventure that is designed to ease my guilt about the fact that a vast majority of the world lives on less than $2 a day or that millions of people die every year without ever knowing the  freedom and fullness of Christ. 

continue reading

On Sunday, June 29, Mr. Mugabe was sworn into his 6th term as the leader of  Zimbabwe.  

Though I have lived a good number of years in Africa, I confess to not being totally up on the sad history of this ravished country that has been pulled into despair over the 28 years that Mr. Mugabe has been in power.

This is what I DO know--

The people of Zimbabwe voted in March and their clear desire was that the ruling party exit immediately. The standing parliament and the president himself were shown to NOT BE the people's choice for their future.  The people spoke up and said it was time for something new. 

In the calm of the days after the election, the nation dared to believe that things were going well and that change was on its way.  But the calm was short-lived.

continue reading

When I first arrived in Africa more than 20 years ago, most everything I bought in the grocery store came in a can or a paper bag. Very few items in those days were packaged in plastic.

The great thing about the canned goods was that the can itself was reusable by local people. Tins were washed and smashed or cut and shaped into new, useful items. Small oil-burning lamps were made from these. Boxes that resembled little suitcases were created for storage.

Paper bags were used again, too. In many a smoky hut hot pots were lifted off the fire with the aid of a folded bag in place of a fancy oven mitt. Lists were written on second-hand bags, math problems were scratched down and solved and fires were started all with the assistance of already-used paper bags.

continue reading

Yesterday's latest headlines from China lit  my screen as I opened my little laptop.  

But I didn't open the article.  

Earthquake.  China.  40,000.

I better just come clean here: I didn't want to know.

Well over 40,000 individual lives crushed by collapsing buildings.  Men.  Women.  Boys.  Girls.  Teachers.  Doctors.  Plumbers.  Mothers.  Cousins.  Brothers.  Friends.

Why didn't I want to hear it?  Why do I still feel myself resisting the info?

I guess I'm afraid that if I hear, I will feel.  And if I feel, then I will hurt.  I don't want the weight of the knowledge that yet another natural disaster, fresh on the heels of tragedy in Burma, has destroyed/devastated/plundered/ pillaged life on a massive scale beyond my comprehension.  

continue reading

Summer is around the corner and thousands of young people are preparing for
a missions trip to needy/exciting/daring/dramatic locations around the
globe.

Here is my short list of tips for those who are on their way.

#1. Respect the culture you are entering.

Remember that there are hundreds of years of history behind why
things are the way they are in the place you are visiting and many of these
things have been set in place for very good reason. The key here is to
remember that cultures are not superior or inferior to each other. They are
different, (not weird or stupid) and you can get over differences. This is
not to say that every culture doesn't carry with it norms that need
redemption, but, as one who is making a visit into another country, you are
called to be respectful.

#2. Look for the clues that you can follow.

In many places you need to adhere to local standards of modesty.
This is especially true in developing countries, though there is grace in
this area as people understand that tourists are different. However, you're
not trying to be a tourist. Conversely, you might NOT want to do this in
certain beach settings in southern Europe, unless you have suddenly become
comfortable wearing a speedo or going topless in public (!)

continue reading

There's a tiny little restaurant in our town that my boys love to frequent. Best chapatis by miles. Good stew. Nice people. Great chai. It sits on a busy corner in the market part of town. The atmosphere is... well, basic. The price is just right.

The food is very clean at this place as it's a Muslim establishment so everything is carefully prepared by halal standards. I am keenly aware of the fact that I am usually the only woman eating in the small, crowded room of robed men. My husband and I stand out rather dramatically and I am careful that my knees don't show when we are in there.

Last Saturday, as we ate there, I was dipping a handful of chapati into my stew when my phone alarm went off. My phone rings at noon most days of the week to remind me to pause and whisper the Lord's Prayer. It's a small act I do to center my heart and focus my priorities, calm my harried self and join hands with a growing number of others around the globe who do the same.

continue reading

In the 3 seconds that it took to drive past you, I saw something bold and strong and good.

We were making our way down the steep side of the mountain. In our big car, seat belts on, music playing, security of love and provision all around, we were busy trying not to get pushed off the road by the manic drivers in the great hulking buses that seemed to hurl toward us from around every bend.

And we passed you there, just 5 of you, beside your produce stalls, holding life with the calm, fierce resilience that your mothers and grandmothers breathed into you.

Here where the ledge widens and there is room enough to set up, you press out a living from these small shops. This is where the money for your kerosene lamps is made. This is how you feed your babies and keep your older children in school.

continue reading

Living in Africa as a white girl with a U.S. passport means that I live a privileged and protected life.

It's not that I seek privilege. It's more that my education, background, connections and resources mean that regardless of how simple my lifestyle is in comparison to peers back in the States, I live well above the quality of life that the vast majority of Africans around me live. And protection comes with this status. I am protected from hunger, from cold and rain, from heat and back-breaking work.

Essentially, I am not impacted by the elements. I sometimes think that this is the line that truly separates me from most of my African friends. Season in and season out, bread appears on my table. Whether there is enough grass for the cattle or not, I can find milk for my tea. It may be powdered milk imported from Holland, but I can find it.

continue reading

My first-born is 21 today.

He's 21 and far away since I'm at home in Tanzania and he is studying in Belize, Central America. According to the laws of our passport country, Jesse is now officially allowed to saunter up to the bar and order himself a beer. I have to admit that this is not something that impresses him terribly much. Jesse spent his junior high and high school years in Portugal where there is no legal age to pass before purchasing alcohol, though it was loosely enforced as 16. When he did turn 16, he didn't rush out to celebrate either. He took a few sips of beer about 6 months later and decided to pass. If you asked him today, he'd say he doesn't really like beer but he would take a nice glass of wine with a good meal :-)

The fact that the United States says Jesse is now old enough to have a drink is something that befuddles me. The guy has been old enough to maneuver a vehicle on the Los Angeles freeways for 5 years already. (Do you know how many deaths are caused by teen drivers?) For 3 years he's been legal to cast his vote and weigh in on who the most powerful leader in the entire world should be. And, this is the one that really knocks me out, for these same 3 years he's been deemed old enough to die for his country.

continue reading

The Facts:

My name is Lisa Borden and I live in Tanzania, East Africa.

I carry a U.S. passport, though TZ is my 6th country of residence. I lived in Sweden and England as a child and when I was 12 we moved back to the States. LA, to be exact. When I was 22 I moved to Kenya, East Africa, with my best friend who is my husband. We lived there for the better part of 15 years, spending a good chunk of that time in a remote range of hills called Loita. We were among the Maasai people and we were 4+ hours of hard off-roading from the nearest phone line or paved road or post office. It was amazing.

One day, in 2000, we moved to Europe. We loved Africa and our life there, but it was time for a change. We settled in for a wild ride of 7 years on "The Lost Continent" and were pushed and challenged and grown in many ways. It was rich and we cherish that season.

continue reading