Sorry Blogspot

There was a huge lapse of time that I couldn't get online to blog because out internet was not working. Then when I could, blogspot was not agreeable with me. So sorry blogspot, I've found a new blog home. Come visit "Back To The Drawing Board" at http://louisekoonce.wordpress.com
And check out "Ten Minute Musings" at http://martykoonce.wordpress.com and "Four Boys Makin' Noise at http://koonceboys.wordpress.com

No Refunds

I suppose there are cases when you buy some one a gift and it breaks before you get it home or you find out the recipient already has a whatchamacallit. So you run back to the store and return it. After standing in a long line you have exchanged the gift and are on your way with another idea. Christmas gift-giving takes on a different look in Togo.

Every year at Christmas, we try to bless the families of the guys that work at our house with a little extra. This year the plan was for each of them to receive a goat and a bag of rice. The guy from the village arrived today with the goats, have I mentioned that Marty was not home and had forgotten to tell me that they would be coming today? Now if this scenario wasn't already light years different from your gift-giving routine, just wait. One of the goats got hung up somehow in the taxi van and was dead by the time it got to our house. It was beyond me, how the driver did not notice.

So I am standing at the front door with three live goats and one not. I ran to Koffi's house, who ran and got Benoit, our night guard. Then proceeded a discussion of who was going to take the dead goat, which meant it needed to be dressed today.

I felt sorry for the one that agreed to take the deceased animal, I would have returned it to the store for him if it worked that way. I would have atleast liked it if the driver felt some responsibility for not delivering the goat breathing. Still, their families will be eating well for a few days. I hope the blessing didn't get lost.

I do apologize if this touches a sensitive cord for any of my animal loving readers.

My Life With Boys

I recently bought a pink t-shirt. That may not seem like a big deal, but you see, I have never worn pink. It isn’t supposed to look good on a redhead. For some reason, though, I really wanted something pink. I think I wanted to remind myself that I am a girl. Living in a house full of males has diminished my girly-ness.

My friends that are mothers of all boy families know what I am talking about. (And there are an abundance of you: Savannah, Tracey, Katey, Karen, Sandi, and Christine, to name a few.) These women know that it takes a different kind of womanhood to exist in an all-boy household.

For one thing, a mother of all boys had better know something about sports, if she doesn’t want to be left out. I have spent my share of afternoons throwing footballs and catching baseballs. It has been to my favor that my cousins, (all the kids my age were males on my Dad’s side of the family) taught me how to throw a spiral and how to close the glove on that ball. I have been amazed at how much Taylor (the silent one) will talk if I am on the receiving end of his passes.

Another thing that I have noticed is that our language is different. I find it effective to use sound effects when communicating with my boys. Add a few “Pow!”, “Brrrrr!”, “Splat!” or “”Zing!” to my discussion and I have all ears. One day I realized our family had engaged in a conversation that consisted of very few intelligible words, and the funny thing was we all understood each other.

Sometimes I have wondered what it must be like to have tiny nails to paint or little tresses to braid; to have someone to pass on my sewing knowledge to; someone to share the small, cute, quiet things in life with. I guess I will wait for daughter-in-laws and granddaughters for those things. For now I will enjoy throwing the pig-skin with my boys . . . while I wear my pink t-shirt.

Envying My Neighbors

There is more to our lives than the electricity rationing, internet outages and water shortages, but it just happens that those things send me down a road of pondering. For instance, today the power and water were turned off way before the scheduled time, which sent me into a mental frenzy of reorganizing my day. Deciding to turn on the generator was even a struggle, not knowing how long we would need it and how much gas there was to be used. Still, I was so thankful for the option of an alternate power source. (And what I am about to say, doesn't mean that I am ready to do without it.) That made me pity my neighbors, who don't have any other options. But wait, my neighbors don't have washing machines, refrigerators, and computers to do their chores for them. The course of their day is not altered by the lack of electricity. So in the end, I find myself, not pitying, but almost envying my neighbors for their simple way of life and lack of complications brought on by excess.

I guess this goes to show that I've been in Africa long enough to have pretzel logic - a twisted way of seeing things.

Spring? Cleaning

Okay, so it was a Saturday, and we all know that traditionally means some housework must be done. But it is not Spring and the whole house should not have needed a thorough cleaning, but today that's what it got. We have had a bit of tick problem with the dog, so we had her treated and then called the neighborhood "terminix" man, ironically, his name is Boy. He showed up this morning and made a big mess. His equipment consists of a gas powered blower, like they use for farming. Now that sounds fine for the yard, but that's also what he used inside. Curtains flying out the windows, pictures blown from their nails, paint chips blasted from the ceiling; puddles of poisonous goo on the floor with Boy's muddy footprints tracked through. All this not to mention us transplanting ourselves around the house and yard to get away from the noxious fumes. When he had finished and I went in the house to assess the damage, I felt that I should call Nic (the insurance adjuster that he is). It was a war zone. A lamp on the floor, glass from a picture shattered, one dead lizard and hopefully buckets of dead bugs. Well, I don't need to replay what my day held, I should sleep good after a day of hard work.

Birthing The Boys

I am welcoming my four sons into the world - into the blog world that is. Yes, the Koonce kids have their own blog. Go to http://the4ts.blogspot.com to keep up with Tucker, Taylor, Tanner and Trevor. We hope this will be a fun way for their friends that have left Africa and their relatives back in the States to keep in touch.

They Didn't Count The Costs

The talk was on the street again that the Togolese Government didn't buy enough hydroelectric power from its neighbors, Ghana and Benin. Last week we started noticing that the power outages were coming more regularly and could only guess what that might mean. Sure enough, a representative from the electric company showed up with a schedule for the next month of when Tabligbo will be shut off. (That's the first time they have ever notified us, so that is one improvement.) Roughly six hours off, eighteen on. So I have spent the day trying to get everything done that requires power before 6:00 tonight.

Oh, and all this just in time for my in-laws to visit! It was during their first visit here that we had our first experience with rationing. Dejavu! Anna, it looks like you will have reason to camp under the mango tree again.

He Joined The Ranks

Last Night, my dear husband was sitting at the computer enjoying the wireless internet connection, when he called out to me "I think I'll have a blog, help me thing of a name." Well we set about a conversation of titles and purposes. Nothing I came up with fit him, so he came up with one on his own. Ten Minute Musings. I think he is trying to prove a point to everyone who says he is long winded, he can say it in ten minutes or less. Of course that doesn't mean he can't blog 142 times a day! Welcome, dear. And BTW, I am interested in what you say even if it takes more than ten minutes.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

In the last nine years, the indicator that Christmas is near has become the Harmatan phenomenon. (For those of you that aren't familiar with this, it is when the Northern winds blow across the Sahara and dump large amounts of its dust on us.) Usually, we feel its effects starting in December. Thursday morning, however, we awoke to a hazy, grey sky and felt the moisture being sucked from our pores. By noon the humidity had fallen to 30%. By dinner, the table had the familiar layer of dust needing to be wiped before we could set it. The Togolese are remarking that it is because we had such a heavy rainy season and they hope it will lift after a few weeks. I hardly know what to do with myself. It's when the dust has come that I know to go get the Christmas tree out, but the calendar says it's too early. I wonder if this year it will rain on Christmas Day and totally turn my world upside down.

Remember, I Never Said

Remember, I never said I would be very reliable at this blog thing. For one thing, I don't think I have amuzing musings. The ramblings of my head don't always interest me, much less any of you. Secondly, our internet access has always been sketchy, to say the least. Well, Togo has marched into the current century and blown that excuse out of the water. Last week, we bought and had installed a wireless internet transmitter and antenna. Where we used to have 4.8 to 28.8 kbps with our dial up connection, we now get 230.4 kbps. The connection rarely falters and best of all, the service is unlimited for a flat monthly fee that is much less than our old charges.

Now, if I only had something to say . . .

Just Like Old Times

There is a little sadness settling over our house tonight. We have just returned from the Crowson's house and saying goodbye to the Bunners. What a bittersweet moment it is. The last two weeks have been wonderful, having Frank and Jenna and the kids back with us in Tabligbo. It seemed to me as if they had just been on a really long furlough. It is amazing how there are some people in life that you can just pick right up and carry on your relationship, no matter how much time has lapsed. The first week, they stayed at our house and the kids were out of school, so they got to play together all day every day. It was amazing, too that their relationships just continued on.

We have had lots of time to relive the past and dream about the future. We spent late nights playing cards, watching movies and laughing . . . there was lots of laughing. We revisited an old tradition on a Monday off at China Town and the Sarakawa pool.

Today, we enjoyed a "team meeting", complete with snacks. Frank and Jenna shared with us their feelings of having made this trip back. We enjoyed an African buffet (brought in by Yawo) of veyi and rice, koliko, and Jenna's favorite kom (fermented corn meal mush). When the kids came in from school, we celebrated Aaron's belated birthday with banana splits and games. After another meal together, the evening was climaxed by a time of singing.

As we said goodbye, it felt strangely like they are only going on a furlough again. Not a bad plan - 2 weeks on the field, 2 years furlong.

Thanks Frank, Jenna, Aaron, Josh and Corrie for coming. God-willing, we'll be together again soon!

What has really changed?

As I sit in the Accra Guest House awaiting the arrival of our good friends and former teammates, Frank and Jenna Bunner, I have been wondering if things will have changed very much through their eyes. It has been two years since they moved away from Tabligbo.

Still there may be a few notable changes . . .

The toll booths (that have been under construction for over a year) are now open! This should be a painless process . . . right! You enter the peage and stop to recieve your two-part ticket from the attendant, whom you hope is awake and willing to walk around to your window. You proceed to the toll booth, hand over your two-part ticket and your 300 cfa. The cashier will then stamp one half of the ticket, scribble something illegible on it and return that half to you, which you will add to the collection growing in the floorboard of the car. Passing through the toll exit you may notice there is yet another attendant taking a written tally of the cars passing through. It gives new meaning to the term "checks and balances".

There is another Leader Price open in AgoeNyive. A perfect stop on the way out of town. And you can purchase Kiri Cream cheese in a 8 oz. package now!

Some things never change: the potholes are still filled with trash, the goats and chickens still roam free and the children still bathe on a rock in the road.

The real change that counts is happening in the village churches. I hope it will be an encouraging scene for the Bunners to see that change is still occurring one heart at a time.

On The Blog-Wagon

Well, I held out as long as I could, but now even Louise is a blogger. I hope I will have not only the energy, but the internet connection to keep up with this. You know better than to expect something every day.

About the name Six 2 Charis. You can probably guess that six is the number of Koonces; Marty, Louise, Tucker, Taylor, Tanner and Trevor. Charis is greek for grace. It is the name that Randy Alcorn gave the representation of heaven in his allegory "Edge Of Eternity". So, we being the six are bound ultimately for heaven, and for now are headed down a path of grace.

Love and Blessings!