I just realized that my days are off. What I called Day 1 was actually two days because of the time change and travel. Today is actually the sixth day so you haven’t missed a day, I’ve just corrected the numbering.
I expected today to be very low key for me. Other than the devotions in the morning, I was not scheduled to teach in the seminar. The only day of seminar I’m not teaching. Kim, Gretchen, and Ginger carried the teaching load today. Ginger’s topic was on the use of play therapy, and oh do African’s love to play. She started by having me role play with her typical American children at play. I don’t know if it is because we are the least mature or the most fun, but we sat on the floor and played. Then she asked if anyone was willing to show us how children play in their culture. Boy were they willing. Every time Ginger thought she could move on, someone else had a game or form of play they wanted to demonstrate. There is none of the sheepish false modesty with which we Americans struggle. They play with gusto and get fully into character when role playing. One woman was playing dolls with a stuffed monkey. She wouldn’t give it up. Others would come up to demonstrate and she would continue with her “baby.” I thought Ginger was going to wrestle her to the ground and pull the little rascal right out of her arms. Ginger had to eliminate about two-thirds of her material due to time constraints.
On the way down the hill after the day’s teaching, there was a noticeable difference from the morning trek up the hill. In the morning we were urged along by the stuttering speech of a goat and a sheep. It was morbidly quiet going down the hill. Our hairy and wooly friends had made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of hospitality. Yama choma is a traditional African meal, usually made from goat, in which the meat is skewered and grilled with spices. They don’t call them shish kabobs, but that is what they were. Chunks of meat skewered on thin sticks and grilled over a fire. Many were concerned about consuming goat, especially the cute one they saw that morning, but one taste of the succulent little beasty had us pouncing on the carcass like ravenous wolves. Okay, so I did most of the pouncing, but the goat was phenomenal. Once we gnawed the goat down to the bones we turned our carnivorous attention to the sheep with the fervor of Mongols on a rampage. What was cute in the morning was delicious in the evening, and there was not a whisper of remorse for the loss of life that made this feast possible.