"Out of Africa" or "Salt N Peppa"?

The time has finally come for another update on my life. Those of you with whom I’ve kept in touch with since being back in Yovo-Yovo land (the “the white country”, which is where some people I met believed that all white people were from), obviously know some or all of this, so you can just ignore this blog update. But for the rest of you with whom I haven’t been very good about staying in touch, this is for you. I’m guessing that if you made it this far to even reading this blog, you care at least slightly about what’s going on in my life. So then, instead of rambling through the entire blog like I did in this intro, let’s get on with it.

“Boring” news first. I’ve been renting a one-bedroom apartment in a two-story house for the last couple months. It’s located on the Westside of Chicago in the North Lawndale neighborhood, a predominantly African-American neighborhood. Ok, maybe predominant is too vague of a word. If you see another white person walking around you wonder what in the world they’re doing here (although they are most likely working at Lawndale Christian Health Center or, if they are driving a very shiny new expensive car, looking for something frequently sold in this neighborhood). For those of you who want the exact demographics according to the US Census: Black 93.8% Hispanic 4.54% White 0.92% Other 0.65% Asian 0.13%. David K. Fremon, whoever he is, (1998) calls North Lawndale "the embodiment of the urban black ghetto." I live on a quiet (relative, of course) block that dead ends and is supposedly (and I would concur) the nicest block in Lawndale and does not, in my humble opinion, embody the urban black ghetto. However, that is a very subjective and relative statement. The kids are extremely friendly and have helped me feel a bit more at home in my new neighborhood, or more honestly, on the block. My transition here has also been made much easier by one of my closest friends Laura, who lives across the street from, and my very friendly landlords who live upstairs with their kids.

As far as work, I ended up getting a permanent substitute teaching position at a school about a mile away. This means that I’m at the same school every day (although in different grades, pre-K to 8th with much of my time in 7th and 8th, , and more recently in the dreaded 6th grade), which makes subbing so much easier because not only am I guaranteed work every day, I also am getting to know the teachers and students. After subbing two days at the school three blocks from my house and knowing I wouldn’t survive there three months as a sub (since I barely survived two day: when a child throws a chair twice across the room and you call for security three times with not a soul ever coming, you just aren’t sure how long you’ll survive), I sought out schools south of the tracks in the predominately-Hispanic neighborhood of South Lawndale. The first school that contacted me ended up hiring me full-time and I have been very happy there since. The teachers and students are very friendly and respectful (for the most part: to have 100% respect of an 8th grade class would take a miracle anywhere!).

What about a job for the future? Well, I’m not entirely sure. Although I really was hoping to find a job that really interested me in an area other than teaching, I have not yet figured out what that would be. Being back in the classroom has made me consider going back as a regular classroom teacher, because I’m reminded of how much I do enjoy teaching (I just don’t like all the other stuff that comes with it). The question in my mind, should I decide to teach, is which side of the tracks do I want to teach on? I’m more passionate about the people on my side of the tracks and want to develop the community in which I live, but am wondering if I want to jump straight into that kind of stress or maybe teach a year on the south side of the tracks to get my feet wet again. I’m waiting and praying for some sort of directions as to what I’ll be doing come June 14th. Somehow God usually likes to make me wait until the last minute… you know, build trust, strengthen faith, stuff that is supposed to be good for me, but it sure would be easier to know already what it is I’ll be doing.

If you’ve made it this far, congratulations, because I know it was long and boring. Hopefully you’re a fast reader. Now, to the exciting news!! I could start from the beginning and make you wonder until the end, like an action-packed, page-turning mystery novel… but I won’t. I’m just going to lay it out up front (the picture already gives away something anyway!): I’m getting married!! What in the world, some of you are thinking while rereading that very short sentence. For those of you who don’t know, I’ve been dating Kodjo, who you heard much about if you read my blogs from Africa, for more than a year now. I know, I know, I never wrote about the dating, only about the friendship, "a gift from God"…and how he helped save my life. Well, initially I kind of wanted to see how things developed and then I guess I was waiting until things were more serious and after that maybe I was just lazy and felt sheepish for waiting so long and then I just waited until I had some final news to present to you. So, now I present the final news that I’m getting married… sometime. That’s right. Although we know we want to get married, we don’t know when, because I am here and he is there. It has come down to the fact that the only possibility for him to come here, in the somewhat near future, is through a fiancée visa. So, although we haven’t had an official engagement (which we’d like to have in person), we are applying for a fiancée visa and so we are technically engaged (or, you could state it as, we’ve decided we want to spend the rest of our lives together by getting married, thus making us technically engaged, which is why we are applying for a fiancée visa). You could call us “pre-engaged” (coined by one of my friends) and call him my “pre-fi” (short for pre-fiance, coined by my mother), or you can just call him Kodjo. But regardless of what you want to call him or our situation, we are planning for him to come here and get married. On a fiancée visa you must get married within 90 days, so we’ll be getting married fairly quickly when he comes. However, we have no idea how long it will take for him to get a fiancée visa. According to different people who have been through this it could be anywhere between 4 and 8 months. I’m hoping he’ll be here by my golden birthday (29 on the 29th of June!!)… obviously a fanciful dream, not a realistic expectation!

Considering this blog update has, as always, gotten to be very long, I’m going to stop (although it's definitely a self-imposed forced stop because I have a lot to write about this topic!), but otherwise I’ll never get it posted. However, SOON (yeah right, you’re thinking) I plan on posting an addendum that I intended to include in this blog update, maybe titled “The Story of Us”, “Out of Africa”, “Salt N Peppa”, or just “Love Story from Africa” for those of you who want to know the entire story (ok, not the entire story, because that will come out in book format, but the synopsis of the entire story) or for those who just want some of those warm fuzzy feelings you get when reading love stories. Well, I can’t promise warm fuzzy feelings for you, but it definitely is a story of love! That way you can get to know him a bit before he comes (although June 29th isn’t all that long to wait ☺ … but 8 more months??? It’s already been more than four!) and understand why it is I love someone who lives on the other side of the world (and for myself I'll document our relationship in black and white -no pun intended- for our kids to read someday... and because I have a terrible memory and am bound to forget the details of even this most wonderful, unexpected, and life-changing gift). I'll give you glimpses into how incredibly kind and thoughtful and funny and godly and and and he is. Plus, I'll add some great pictures of us, too (he's a real cutie...with the biggest smile and friendliest eyes)!


Until SOON,
With love (and full of love and in love),
your Yovo