Last Saturday, I arose to the sound of teenage boys yelling "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO". At 5am. And so I was awake, and my beloved neighbors (really - I love the excitement of living next to these guys) unknowingly got me to rejoin a Saturday morning ritual in the village that I'd been skipping (in favor of sleep...a right I reserve to keep in the future) - Muchakamuchaka.
Every Saturday at 6am, the kids in the village (often begrudgingly, but sometimes not so) gather outside their houses for an early morning run. A staff member - usually a security guard - leads them in some stretches, and then they are off. I am not ever one for running, but I think I could make running part of my life if I was always ran surrounded by 40 kids doing cheers. As we run (at a very Micaela-acceptable pace, by the way) the kids take turns leading the cheers, which, according to my crude translation, seem to be about water, Rwanda and who knows what else. I never really know what they are saying, but I try to yell AMAZE (water) at the right times like the rest of the kids. It's awesome. By the time we've run around the village twice, I'm exhausted, yet somehow exhilarated...enough to get me to blog at 7am!
After muchakamuchaka is farm - an activity I also attend only periodically (for both of these traditions both attending AND not attending are rewarding choices for me...sometimes much needed sleep and sometimes much needed fun...talk about win win!).
A lot of times farm time is a time for the kids to get a good haha out of my mediocre hoing skills (improving, improving) and a time for us to swap songs (Rwandan ones for English ones). It's also a time for us to make a lasting impact on the village, as we clear the weeds from the football field or plant jacaranda trees that will someday path the walkway to the school (please note that farm time does not always involve the farm). Last week, as we hoed away massive amounts of brush (Bush was right...it is fun) a kid and I discussed entrepreneurship in a place with diminishing resources. As we cleared brush on top of a mountain, he and I brainstormed about what new jobs could be created in Rwanda's cities. The kids often call what we are doing during farm time "cultivating" (a word made significantly more beautiful if you hear it in a Rwandan accent). I think it's an excellent way to describe the goal of Saturday mornings, and it's usually how I feel when I fall down into my bed after I've been cultivated.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Jobs in the Gulf of Mexico
Dear Mr. President,
I know you don't have so much time to read my blog (maybe only once a week, right?), but, when you get the chance, I have a story and an idea for you.
While traveling around Rwanda over the last month, I've seen a curious sight. Hundreds of workers digging ditches, taking work breaks midday, and holding cables that look like red, gold and green ribbons along the side of the road.
Why do these workers and ribbon-cables flank my rides to and from Kigali, you ask? These workers are laying fiber-optic cables with the purpose of bettering Rwanda's internet connectivity. This big investment may reap big rewards if it encourages more businesses to work in Rwanda, but I'm more excited about the immediate rewards. Hundreds and hundreds are being employed to lay these cables, so this investment is improving lives in the short-term.
This leads me to our own country. I am, like so many others, worried about the long-term effects of the oil spill on our Gulf's ecosystem and the surrounding environment. But I'm even more worried about the people who've lost jobs that depended on the Gulf's healthy waters. After Katrina and the recession, another setback was the last thing the Gulf Coast economy needed.
While many fishermen and others no longer have livlihoods due to the spill, they do have something else quite unique. They have a deep understanding of the waters the oil is currently polluting. While oil spill clean-up and tracking may not be their original training, they are particularly well suited for this task. They know their way around the Gulf and its wildlife.
I see that in your proposed legislation you provide for funding for further inspections and environmental studies, as well as unemployment benefits and training for those who have lost jobs. Can we instruct the employment training centers to train workers with the skills needed to address, track and ameliorate the spill's environmental impact? Can we get these former fishing experts jobs in clean up, environmental tracking and seafood inspections? New skills are needed in the Gulf, and the recently unemployed men and women who once sailed and fished those seas are well-prepared for the job.
One more step, to turn this short-term job solution into a long-term community strengthening plan. How about getting these workers together to start to plan long-term development for their area? We don't know how long it will be before the Gulf can have a fishing economy again, but something innovative can replace this economy. Let's let these guys begin to work on it.
Thanks for your time. Let me know how I can help.
Micaela
PS-Also, thanks for honoring Paul McCartney. Watching the White House rock out to the Beatles was too awesome!
I know you don't have so much time to read my blog (maybe only once a week, right?), but, when you get the chance, I have a story and an idea for you.
While traveling around Rwanda over the last month, I've seen a curious sight. Hundreds of workers digging ditches, taking work breaks midday, and holding cables that look like red, gold and green ribbons along the side of the road.
This leads me to our own country. I am, like so many others, worried about the long-term effects of the oil spill on our Gulf's ecosystem and the surrounding environment. But I'm even more worried about the people who've lost jobs that depended on the Gulf's healthy waters. After Katrina and the recession, another setback was the last thing the Gulf Coast economy needed.
While many fishermen and others no longer have livlihoods due to the spill, they do have something else quite unique. They have a deep understanding of the waters the oil is currently polluting. While oil spill clean-up and tracking may not be their original training, they are particularly well suited for this task. They know their way around the Gulf and its wildlife.
I see that in your proposed legislation you provide for funding for further inspections and environmental studies, as well as unemployment benefits and training for those who have lost jobs. Can we instruct the employment training centers to train workers with the skills needed to address, track and ameliorate the spill's environmental impact? Can we get these former fishing experts jobs in clean up, environmental tracking and seafood inspections? New skills are needed in the Gulf, and the recently unemployed men and women who once sailed and fished those seas are well-prepared for the job.
One more step, to turn this short-term job solution into a long-term community strengthening plan. How about getting these workers together to start to plan long-term development for their area? We don't know how long it will be before the Gulf can have a fishing economy again, but something innovative can replace this economy. Let's let these guys begin to work on it.
Thanks for your time. Let me know how I can help.
Micaela
PS-Also, thanks for honoring Paul McCartney. Watching the White House rock out to the Beatles was too awesome!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Murambi Genocide Memorial
Last weekend my belief that we can prevent conflict was shaken while my desire to figure out how to do it was strengthened. After my visit to Murambi Genocide Memorial, all I could think was "this could happen again."
Murambi was supposed to be a technical school, built on a beautiful hill in southern Rwanda. During the genocide up to 65,000 Tutsis from the region took refuge there after they were told that the church they were hiding in was unsafe. In reality, it was a plot to concentrate them. They stayed there for two weeks without water or electricity, and on April 21st, a mass attack left almost 45,000 dead as many more died after an initial escape.
The memorial consists mainly of the school itself, and inside, on bed frames and tables, hundreds of preserved skeletons and remains of the people they had found in the mass graves that were created. It is horrifying to see, as you can clearly distinguish children, clothes, and even hair. Perhaps the saddest part of the memorial is the people who have family there. I've met a number of people, including our guide, whose families are there, sometimes unidentified due to bodily decay, but somewhere visible to the public. One survivor, whose story can be found here, explains why he works at the memorial (taken from the memorial website):
It seems like the massacre at Murambi happened a little too easily. Tens of thousands, in just a few days, concentrated and killed, a full two weeks after the mass killing in Rwanda began, and even more weeks after UN officials were warned of weapons stockpiles. If the Murambi massacre could happen so easily even while the world had warning, what's to say that anywhere, where the right confluence of factors occurs, can be safe from atrocities, that develop quickly to a massive scale?
Having met the people who work there, I can only say that my own burdens that drive me towards preventing mass atrocities, feel like feathers compared to their burdens. I also know that my own conviction to prevent this from happening again is stronger, and will be followed with greater resolve.
Someone else we know also wants to prevent conflict, but with pelicans to save and elections to stump for, he might need some reminding. Read Obama's leaked National Security Strategy, and make sure he knows we all have an interest in him following through on his commitment to preventing mass atrocities.
Murambi was supposed to be a technical school, built on a beautiful hill in southern Rwanda. During the genocide up to 65,000 Tutsis from the region took refuge there after they were told that the church they were hiding in was unsafe. In reality, it was a plot to concentrate them. They stayed there for two weeks without water or electricity, and on April 21st, a mass attack left almost 45,000 dead as many more died after an initial escape.
The memorial consists mainly of the school itself, and inside, on bed frames and tables, hundreds of preserved skeletons and remains of the people they had found in the mass graves that were created. It is horrifying to see, as you can clearly distinguish children, clothes, and even hair. Perhaps the saddest part of the memorial is the people who have family there. I've met a number of people, including our guide, whose families are there, sometimes unidentified due to bodily decay, but somewhere visible to the public. One survivor, whose story can be found here, explains why he works at the memorial (taken from the memorial website):
"I endure it because there’s no alternative, but it’s really hard and scary for us to describe the things we witnessed. I also felt the need to take care of my family until they are buried, so I protect them. And there are people who need to know what happened here at Murambi and I explain to them."
It seems like the massacre at Murambi happened a little too easily. Tens of thousands, in just a few days, concentrated and killed, a full two weeks after the mass killing in Rwanda began, and even more weeks after UN officials were warned of weapons stockpiles. If the Murambi massacre could happen so easily even while the world had warning, what's to say that anywhere, where the right confluence of factors occurs, can be safe from atrocities, that develop quickly to a massive scale?
Having met the people who work there, I can only say that my own burdens that drive me towards preventing mass atrocities, feel like feathers compared to their burdens. I also know that my own conviction to prevent this from happening again is stronger, and will be followed with greater resolve.
Someone else we know also wants to prevent conflict, but with pelicans to save and elections to stump for, he might need some reminding. Read Obama's leaked National Security Strategy, and make sure he knows we all have an interest in him following through on his commitment to preventing mass atrocities.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
New Birth Control
As discussions of Don't Ask Don't Tell's implications and possible repeal abound back home (write your Congressperson here), we too discussed homosexuality here at the village this week.
Every Wednesday the debate club chooses a topic and each family has a hearty discussion around it. In the past, debates have been about uniforms and government and this week, homosexuality.
I was a little nervous about how this debate would go down. I've heard some pretty anti-gay statements in the village, and, in nearby Uganda, a bill recently considered punishing homosexuality with death.
To my surprise, although many of the kids had deeply differing views, they agreed on one topic. Respect. After they offered their initial views, ranging from "it's wrong" to "it's an illness" to "is it an illness?" to "God didn't intend it" to "its great" to "why not?" I offered my own view. I told them the same story I told in preschool (ok probably a lot more eloquent), about how in my family and in my community being gay is normal, and to me, it's not about whether you think it's wrong or right, but that you have to respect everyone, and create a tolerant space for everyone (ok I admit it, I think in preschool I just yelled A MAN CAN MARRY A MAN!...so not so similar).
The kids were totally into it. "Of course we must respect them," they explained. So obvious to them, when it is so not obvious to so many others. Then, after a very curious question and answer session, where they asked about gay adoption and things of the sort, they resumed the debate. My favorite answers included:
-Being gay is a good thing, because you won't get pregnant if you don't want to. Pretty relevant answer to Nicholas Kristof's recent article on the effects of little birth control in Africa.
-Why not experiment? It is how we found straight sex too!
And my absolute favorite, of course was
-I can't say if it is right or wrong! It's someone else's belief and hope.
Basically they were open minded, respectful, and curious. Of course some of them believe homosexuality is wrong, but they seem to understand that that doesn't mean we can treat homosexuals poorly. To me, this is a huge deal, and a huge lesson for so many others.
Every Wednesday the debate club chooses a topic and each family has a hearty discussion around it. In the past, debates have been about uniforms and government and this week, homosexuality.
I was a little nervous about how this debate would go down. I've heard some pretty anti-gay statements in the village, and, in nearby Uganda, a bill recently considered punishing homosexuality with death.
To my surprise, although many of the kids had deeply differing views, they agreed on one topic. Respect. After they offered their initial views, ranging from "it's wrong" to "it's an illness" to "is it an illness?" to "God didn't intend it" to "its great" to "why not?" I offered my own view. I told them the same story I told in preschool (ok probably a lot more eloquent), about how in my family and in my community being gay is normal, and to me, it's not about whether you think it's wrong or right, but that you have to respect everyone, and create a tolerant space for everyone (ok I admit it, I think in preschool I just yelled A MAN CAN MARRY A MAN!...so not so similar).
The kids were totally into it. "Of course we must respect them," they explained. So obvious to them, when it is so not obvious to so many others. Then, after a very curious question and answer session, where they asked about gay adoption and things of the sort, they resumed the debate. My favorite answers included:
-Being gay is a good thing, because you won't get pregnant if you don't want to. Pretty relevant answer to Nicholas Kristof's recent article on the effects of little birth control in Africa.
-Why not experiment? It is how we found straight sex too!
And my absolute favorite, of course was
-I can't say if it is right or wrong! It's someone else's belief and hope.
Basically they were open minded, respectful, and curious. Of course some of them believe homosexuality is wrong, but they seem to understand that that doesn't mean we can treat homosexuals poorly. To me, this is a huge deal, and a huge lesson for so many others.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Weekend Amazing
As my kettle soy sauce and peanut butter noodles cook, I thought I'd give a "what I did this weekend" typa post. Tomorrow I'll be back at meetings and such, but this weekend kept me on my toes (one time literally).
Friday, after some morning meetings and challah making, the volunteers were treated to a mid-year excursion to a nearby lake for food and relaxation. The most notable part of this lovely trip was that I saw an otter! Sea mammal spotting is a favorite activity, so you can imagine my happiness!
Saturday, ASYV was hosting a regional competition in traditional dance, karate, songs and poems and 10 secondary schools came for the event. Since the event was all in Kinyarwanda, I naturally needed a translator. Much to my delight, one of the girls who has never translated for me took a turn at it! I was quite lucky too, as because of her I learned that one of the slam poetry-esque performances was about bettering the world, including Rwanda, America and Israel. This was NOT one of our kids (who live with Israelis and Americans), but one from another school. The global perspective these kids have is pretty impressive.
I spent the rest of the Saturday watching kids in karate outfits and traditional headdresses perform. By five pm, the canteen, which I and a couple other staff oversee as a group of kids run it, was supposed to open, but the event was still going and many staff wanted fanta at the event. The kids adjusted quickly, setting up a table from which to sell Fanta, Coke and Chapati (a cross between pitas and pancakes) to everyone at the event. The rest of the night at the canteen was busy as always, but it was fun to watch the kids adapt and innovate. The next effort: figuring out how to make lines...or some orderly method so everyone who wants can buy food at the overcrowded but busy place.
This morning I went on a hike with two other volunteers with the goal of reaching a nearby spring. We walked down the main road for a bit, but then veered onto a path down into a valley, and soon we were surrounded mostly by scenery of lush farms, wild flowers, awesome birds and astonished kids. We made our way into the valley and met a farmer with some neat cows (African ones, with horns like viking hats) who, through some charades and three languages gave us some advice about how to get to the spring. After more hiking we reached the spring, which was mainly underground water run-off, and through some miscommunication tried to proceed home by going up a steep hill, this time surrounded by acacia trees. Near the top we realized we went the wrong way and followed a 4 year-old, bringing a small jug to fill with water, back down to the spring, where we continued our journey towards a road that we thought would lead home.
Soon we could see rice patties covering the valley, big flat expanses of light green and yellow, with paths and straw huts for the women and men who work to the fields to take breaks in and let their children play in. We meandered in and out of paths around the patties, getting lost, wondering why the workers were all yelling (likely to get rid of birds), and getting friendly directions from little kids and elder women...all in Kinyarwanda. Finally, thanks to the varied input, we decided to cross the rice patty valley to reach the opposite ridge. Since the rice patties are very wet and muddy, we had to walk along a mud ridge, basically the size of a curb, for 70 yards. This ridge was NOT meant for walking on as it was covered in grass and not very stable. We walked along tightrope-style, and when we made it to the middle divide (where it looked like potatoes were growing or a more raised bed) without falling in, we felt good. Upon turning right, however, the the ridge again became small and slippery and eventually we all had fallen calf-deep into rice-patty mud. Adventure! Finally we made it across the patties with our friendly child guides and walked along the other ridge to our road. Motos (like mopeds) picked us up and we headed back to the village, muddy but happy about our grand journey!
Upon returning home, practicing some new kinyarwanda words with the kids (the word for rice, especially), and washing off, I headed over to Family 7's house - the family I'm assigned to be a "family friend" to. I like to check on their homework, but often have trouble coordinating schedules with them during the week, so it was great to get a big chunk of time to work with many of them. They are a joy to be around, and it was great to translate math terms into kinyarwanda, quiz them on geography and just sing songs with them. AND, as I get to do at least once a week, I got to pull out the all-important math order of operations pneumonic device - Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally (parenthesis, exponents, multiplication, division, addition, subtraction). Any good week in the village includes getting to use this phrase.
So that was the weekend. Pretty excellent. My friend here recently said that it seems like I'm new to earth, given my enthusiasm over many things...and when we have weekend as diverse and interesting as this one, it seems to be no wonder that I act martian-like!
Friday, after some morning meetings and challah making, the volunteers were treated to a mid-year excursion to a nearby lake for food and relaxation. The most notable part of this lovely trip was that I saw an otter! Sea mammal spotting is a favorite activity, so you can imagine my happiness!
Saturday, ASYV was hosting a regional competition in traditional dance, karate, songs and poems and 10 secondary schools came for the event. Since the event was all in Kinyarwanda, I naturally needed a translator. Much to my delight, one of the girls who has never translated for me took a turn at it! I was quite lucky too, as because of her I learned that one of the slam poetry-esque performances was about bettering the world, including Rwanda, America and Israel. This was NOT one of our kids (who live with Israelis and Americans), but one from another school. The global perspective these kids have is pretty impressive.
I spent the rest of the Saturday watching kids in karate outfits and traditional headdresses perform. By five pm, the canteen, which I and a couple other staff oversee as a group of kids run it, was supposed to open, but the event was still going and many staff wanted fanta at the event. The kids adjusted quickly, setting up a table from which to sell Fanta, Coke and Chapati (a cross between pitas and pancakes) to everyone at the event. The rest of the night at the canteen was busy as always, but it was fun to watch the kids adapt and innovate. The next effort: figuring out how to make lines...or some orderly method so everyone who wants can buy food at the overcrowded but busy place.
This morning I went on a hike with two other volunteers with the goal of reaching a nearby spring. We walked down the main road for a bit, but then veered onto a path down into a valley, and soon we were surrounded mostly by scenery of lush farms, wild flowers, awesome birds and astonished kids. We made our way into the valley and met a farmer with some neat cows (African ones, with horns like viking hats) who, through some charades and three languages gave us some advice about how to get to the spring. After more hiking we reached the spring, which was mainly underground water run-off, and through some miscommunication tried to proceed home by going up a steep hill, this time surrounded by acacia trees. Near the top we realized we went the wrong way and followed a 4 year-old, bringing a small jug to fill with water, back down to the spring, where we continued our journey towards a road that we thought would lead home.
Soon we could see rice patties covering the valley, big flat expanses of light green and yellow, with paths and straw huts for the women and men who work to the fields to take breaks in and let their children play in. We meandered in and out of paths around the patties, getting lost, wondering why the workers were all yelling (likely to get rid of birds), and getting friendly directions from little kids and elder women...all in Kinyarwanda. Finally, thanks to the varied input, we decided to cross the rice patty valley to reach the opposite ridge. Since the rice patties are very wet and muddy, we had to walk along a mud ridge, basically the size of a curb, for 70 yards. This ridge was NOT meant for walking on as it was covered in grass and not very stable. We walked along tightrope-style, and when we made it to the middle divide (where it looked like potatoes were growing or a more raised bed) without falling in, we felt good. Upon turning right, however, the the ridge again became small and slippery and eventually we all had fallen calf-deep into rice-patty mud. Adventure! Finally we made it across the patties with our friendly child guides and walked along the other ridge to our road. Motos (like mopeds) picked us up and we headed back to the village, muddy but happy about our grand journey!
Upon returning home, practicing some new kinyarwanda words with the kids (the word for rice, especially), and washing off, I headed over to Family 7's house - the family I'm assigned to be a "family friend" to. I like to check on their homework, but often have trouble coordinating schedules with them during the week, so it was great to get a big chunk of time to work with many of them. They are a joy to be around, and it was great to translate math terms into kinyarwanda, quiz them on geography and just sing songs with them. AND, as I get to do at least once a week, I got to pull out the all-important math order of operations pneumonic device - Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally (parenthesis, exponents, multiplication, division, addition, subtraction). Any good week in the village includes getting to use this phrase.
So that was the weekend. Pretty excellent. My friend here recently said that it seems like I'm new to earth, given my enthusiasm over many things...and when we have weekend as diverse and interesting as this one, it seems to be no wonder that I act martian-like!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Friends, Countrymen, Send me your Shoes, your Whiteboard Markers, your ESL Books
Ever read my blog and think, wow, these kids are amazing, I want to help them! I wonder how???
Well worry and wonder no longer. If you like, we would LOVE for you to host a supply drive to fill up our container (leaving in July) with things the kids need. All you need to do is contact Rachel Olstein at Rachel@asyv.org and she will help you get started. See the flyer below to read what we need and for tips.
Here's a little story to inspire you. Sports are very important to our kids, and we offer a number of opportunities from track to karate to basketball. But, like all teenagers, these kids go through sports shoes amazingly quickly. Last week, since most of our recent shoe donations had been used to go to the kids who arrived in the village without shoes, we were struggling to make sure that those whose shoes were completely worn also got them. Happily, a volunteer had JUST arrived with a crate of sports shoes and when I brought them to the "store" (where the kids get clothes from the village) the kids happily found their sizes and brought them home to wear for sports that day. Shoes on feet. Excellent!
I could tell you a million similar stories about other items, but the basic point is, your donations make a direct impact in the kids' lives. So read the flyer, and e-mail Rachel. Don't worry about how much you get - even just putting a box in your office is a great start. And good deeds are contagious...maybe you can get a number of workplaces/schools/shuls involved!
Marakoze Cyane (thank you very much)!
Well worry and wonder no longer. If you like, we would LOVE for you to host a supply drive to fill up our container (leaving in July) with things the kids need. All you need to do is contact Rachel Olstein at Rachel@asyv.org and she will help you get started. See the flyer below to read what we need and for tips.
Here's a little story to inspire you. Sports are very important to our kids, and we offer a number of opportunities from track to karate to basketball. But, like all teenagers, these kids go through sports shoes amazingly quickly. Last week, since most of our recent shoe donations had been used to go to the kids who arrived in the village without shoes, we were struggling to make sure that those whose shoes were completely worn also got them. Happily, a volunteer had JUST arrived with a crate of sports shoes and when I brought them to the "store" (where the kids get clothes from the village) the kids happily found their sizes and brought them home to wear for sports that day. Shoes on feet. Excellent!
Marakoze Cyane (thank you very much)!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Pretty pretty
Shalom! Muraho! It has been so long! I’ve been quite absent from this blog, mostly because I 've been quite absent from the village. I went home for family matters for a while, and then jetted off to Israel for a seminar with the other JDC Jewish Service Corps members from around the world. Now I’m back at Agahozo-Shalom, though, and I’m already getting back to work!
While I realize I must update you about Israel and home culture shock, I want to take advantage of my chance to look at the village with fresh eyes to give you a feel for the amazing environment I'm in.
As you may or may not know, that’s the “village” up there on my blog heading. It’s situated on a hill above some of the thousand hills Rwanda is known for. We have a view of Lake Mugesera and also the many many farms that dot the landscape. My favorite is the banana farms because they look like a bunch of stars bursting from the mountainside.
Walking around the village is a sensory experience that often helps clear my mind. The clouds here are almost fake in their billowy-ness and when they darken I always rush to wherever I’d like to be stuck during the rainstorm (or I fail to rush there and I end up stuck on a dirt road or something). There are always flowers popping up due to the heavy rain, and they are always beautiful. More than once I’ve tried to save them from those who find them to be weeds. If I'm walking in the morning, dew covers me entirely and it reminds me of running in the fog on early Palo Alto mornings.
The sounds are also particularly unique. During the day you can hear the “whoo whoo who who who” of some bird and at night it’s the frog noises that I only ever heard before in computer error noises. Mooing cows and whining goats are also part of the soundtrack...especially when the cows wander right over to our houses! And most importantly, in the morning, and really anytime the power is on, I get to hear the blasting of Rwandan music (and if I’m lucky, happy teens singing along), which you can sample for yourself at inyarwanda.com (I recommend starting with "Inkaramutima" by Meddy).
To get an even better feel for the beauty that surrounds, check out this picture of my FAVORITE BIRD in the village – one of many exotic ones that fly around and escort me to lunch. When I have a chance to sit and look at this bird, or watch the kids play volleyball against a striking sunset backdrop, I often think of this place as some sort of earthly paradise.
Getting back into the swing of things - including blogging! Expect more on my return, Israel and more soon!
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