Have you ever wanted to pet a leopard? What about cuddle a chimp? Or feed a crocodile? Well, if you ever find yourself at Musee Vivant in Burundi, you can do all of those things.
While we were in Bujumbura, Burundi, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law took us and their kids to the local zoo, which features animals from East Africa.
Bujumbura’s zoo, Musee Vivant (“Living Museum”), doesn’t have the red tape or safety precautions of zoos in the States.
Part of that is really fun–nobody at a zoo in the U.S. would allow you to pet a big cat with gigantic fangs.
It also means that you do have to use your own common sense to decide what is or is not a good idea…like maybe if you’re wearing a ponytail, don’t snuggle the baby chimp. If it gets curious and yanks on your hair–well, there goes your scalp and your face.
Fortunately, my nephews don’t have ponytails.
As you can see, there’s a good reason why my sister-in-law calls this “The Petting Zoo of Things That Should Not be Petted.”
The Musee Vivant also offers a cultural element. Our tour guide took us through an exhibit showing recreating a traditional Burundian elder’s home.
There are several of these houses clustered together. One big house would be for the elder, and each of his wives would have a smaller version.
Our three-year-old wasn’t actually that impressed by the animals in the zoo–he’s not much of a predator person and I wasn’t too keen on letting him watch the crocodile hunt down a live guinea pig, anyway. He was more interested in finding sticks and drawing in the dirt with Auntie Joy.
But he did love walking through the houses and trying to climb this gigantic kapok tree with his cousins.
What about you? Which animals would you pet? And would you climb that tree? Let me know in the comments!
While in Burundi, East Africa visiting family last summer, my sister-in-law Joy taught me how to screen print!
I’m not sure if Burundi has screen printing shops (I imagine they exist, but probably not many), but this undertaking is an example of the ingenuity embodied by expats (and immigrants) around the world who want to recreate things from their home countries.
The table was built from scratch for the purpose of screen printing, and the other tools were ordered online and brought over by friends. We brought the shirts and the ink in our suitcases, and I’m glad the ink didn’t explode all over our clothes in the plane! At least it’s washable before it sets…
Joy’s vision was to create matching t-shirts for our huge Johnson family reunion, which would take place in Tanzania soon after. So she created a custom t-shirt design and, along with me, her three boys, and some of her employees, spent a couple of days printing about 35 shirts.
I need to stop taking on new hobbies, but this was really fun. I’m resisting the urge to get my own screen printing stuff.
We also ended up tie-dying the white shirts once everyone was together, but that is another fun and messy story for another day.
Please don’t ask me why we look like we’re waiting to be gathered up by a galactic starship in a sci fi B movie
Today I am watching for the mail truck, awaiting the delivery of an Irish romance book I’ve been eagerly anticipating: The Maid of Ballymacool by Jennifer Deibel.
Not only does the heroine share my name (although spelled Brianna… sigh), but the book comes out the day after birthday, February 21!
While waiting for my copy to come in the mail (and while you’re waiting for yours!), I had the chance to interview Jennifer about her upcoming release.
1. The Maid of Ballymacool is set in 1930s Ireland. What is your favorite aspect of this setting?
It might be easier for me to say what I don’t love!
Seriously, though, I love just about everything involving a historical Irish setting.
One thing I enjoy about the 1930’s is that it’s not a time many people write about when it comes to Ireland. We tend to focus on the Great Hunger and the Irish War of Independence—and rightly so.
However, exploring more unfamiliar time periods really gets my imagination going—especially because rural Ireland was so much slower to get the more modern conveniences, so 1930 in County Donegal was more like the 1910’s were everywhere else in the world.
The Maid of Ballymacool is the featured novel in my March 2023 book box!
2. As a romance writer, you are a queen of love stories! What’s your own love story in a nutshell?
Awww, thank you! My love story began my freshman year of college, when I met my now-husband.
Though, really, it started much earlier in our lives, as both our parents had prayed for each of our future spouses. In fact, when we got engaged, my husband’s grandmother gave me a garter to wear on our wedding day that she had bought right after Seth was born. And then she’d prayed over me—even though she had no idea who I would end up being—every day.
But, once we met, it would be two more years before our romance really began to bloom. If we were a romance trope, it would be friends to lovers.
3. Each of your books shares vocabulary from the Irish tongue–your second language! What’s one of your favorite Irish terms or phrases?
Oh, there are so many! And I’ve added almost all my favorites in my books already. But there’s one that always makes me smile. When we were in our langauge class, we were talking about a specific area of County Clare called The Burren, and we were describing it.
I asked our teacher how to say “It’s unique.” He thought for a moment, and then answered: Níl a mhac a samhail in aon ait. It means, “There’s not the likes of it to be found anywhere.”
4. What do you hope readers will come away with after reading The Maid of Ballymacool?
My prayer for this book is that anyone who feels—or has ever felt—unseen, overlooked, or stuck in a seemingly impossible circumstance, would realize just how seen and loved they really are. And that they would turn to God to find it. And for those who are secure in who they are and how much they’re loved to reach out to those around them who don’t know.
If you’re putting The Maid of Ballymacool on your To Be Read list, here’s a tip– preorder before February 21 from Baker Book House and you’ll get 40% off and free shipping.
That’s just an economic measure, of course. It’s not a measure of natural resources, happiness, overall wellbeing, social health, satisfaction with one’s life, etc. Money’s not everything. But it does impact access to healthcare as well as the ability of people to pursue higher education that would lead to more nationals becoming healthcare professionals.
The long drive across Burundi
With a lack of access to healthcare, particularly in rural regions, many people suffer devastation from easily-treated diseases like malaria.
We’ve seen this happen even to our own family members, who, as expats with cars and insurance for medical evacuation, have far more access to medical treatment.
If you’ve been following our story for a while, you may have read about Ben’s near-death experiences growing up in sub-Saharan Africa.
Part of the reason for our trip to Africa was to tour hospitals and visit with doctors–both expat and national– to ask questions and see where Ben might be able to fit in the future, when we’ve paid off the student loans and are in a position to do medical ministry overseas.
Playing on a African hospital’s compound. In the background, Ben meeting with doctors from this hospital.
Planning to move overseas is complicated.
Hoping to do medical work is even more so. There are a lot of questions to consider.
What hospital/clinic has needs we can fill?
What sending organization do we go with?
Where will our family fit in?
Do we work for an international NGO or a local-run institution?
How much change can we handle right off the bat?
Will our kids be OK here? (This is the one that really weighs on my mind)
Expat doctors live and work on this compound
We came away with a lot of great options. Still, we have a lot of unanswered questions. That’s OK, because we have a lot of unpaid debt, too, so we have some time to figure out the best fit for us when we’re able to go overseas.
We haven’t taken meaningful steps toward moving yet, and James 4:14-15 is always in the back of my head when I talk about our hopes for the future.
Still, we get asked all the time: Why? Why would you want to give up your life in America and move somewhere like Burundi?
The surface-level answer is that Ben is from there. It is home. It was the plan all along and the only reason that Ben had any interest in slogging through eleven years of medical training.
The deeper answer is that Jesus is worth it.
I’ve discovered that answer is a great testimony to our faith and God’s glory. People can argue with your apologetics. But not with your personal experience of Jesus’ worthiness and your willingness to press into that with your own life decisions.
Why struggle on with a difficult season in marriage? Jesus is worth it. Why become a foster parent? Jesus is worth it. Why forgive the family member who hurt you deeply? Jesus is worth it. Why choose a career walking alongside hurting people? Jesus is worth it.
Friends, I don’t know what choices you’re making or what seasons you’re walking through. But I pray that wherever you’re choosing obedience to Christ, you’ll have the chance to give his name glory by telling others that Jesus is worth it.
Mama Violette crafts these baskets using what my 11-year-old niece calls “goat rope” (rope made of fibers processed from sisal, a yucca-like plant), grass that grows near the river, and the plastic fiber from coffee sacks.
I asked Mama Violette where she learned to make these baskets. I expected a heartwarming answer about sitting long afternoons with her grandmother. However, she told me that she learned during her time in a refugee camp while Burundi was suffering through a civil war.
She takes apart the sacks and straightens the fibers. Most of them are white, but colorful plastic is also available for designs. The durable, waterproof plastic replaces traditional organic materials in most baskets I saw.
Recycling at its finest!
Mama Debo helped teach us to weave the baskets.
The basket starts with an inch or so of wrapping the plastic around the rope and grass. Coil the plastic-wrapped rope, thread the plastic through a needle, and stich the coil in place.
The rest of the basket is pretty simple–keep wrapping, putting a stitch through the last round each time. I noticed that Mama Debo and Mama Violette placed one stich evenly though each wrap on the coil below.
Making a basket takes a lot of time–a full day even for someone experienced. Later during our trip, I purchased a few small baskets from a roadside stand.
Can you guess how much one costs?
Two dollars. That’s all these women make from a day of hard work. That’s a typical wage for people in rural Burundi.
Mine wasn’t quite so neat, but it looked a lot better than my first attempt at a coil basket, which I tried to make with agave fibers from a plant in my yard. If you want to take a peek and laugh, visit this post.
One of my nieces added some color to her basket. I was endlessly impressed by her creativity and knack for crafting. Aside from her new skill of basketry, she actually processes “goat rope” from sisal herself, dyes it using natural pigments she makes from nature, and weaves them into bracelets.
Making a full basket would take a beginner like me days–even this little bit was the result of a couple of hours of work. So I decided to stop and turn it into a keychain.
Mama Violette helped me finish it off.
She and Mama Debo inspected my work, saying “Ni sawa.” I thought that meant I had not a fantastic job, but apparently it means. “That’s alright.” Hey, for a first attempt, I’ll take it!
Now, I carry around this little souvenir on my keys wherever I go!
However, my main takeaway from this project wasn’t a physical item, or even a new skill.
Even though I couldn’t have a conversation with Mama Debo or Mama Violette, they were content to sit on the porch with me and communicate however we needed to, patiently helping me learn each step of basketmaking. Despite the many differences in our lifestyles, experiences, and backgrounds, they did not make me feel like an outsider.
Instead, we enjoyed a project together, connecting over a shared interest.
No matter the differences between us, we have more in common than we might think.
While we were having fun feeding goats and pigs, dozens of people were hard at work building bricks for the livestock project’s new building. The method used is basically the same as what you’d see in the Middle East or in pueblo ruins near my home in Arizona.
Making mudbricks at home in Arizona
I’ve made mudbricks before. The materials are cheap, but the labor is hard.
Here’s how to make mudbricks Africa style:
Saturate the dirt and mix it (usually with feet or a hoe) until it’s the right consistency.
Fill brick molds with mud and smooth it.
Wait for it to dry (a long, long time! I’ve heard it can take months).
Stack the bricks into a kiln and fire them.
Construct a building.
School was out for the summer, so there were a lot of kids helping. Summer vacation is not time for play in East Africa.
You might see women carrying bricks on their heads…I can’t imagine having that kind of strength!
There’s a story missionaries like to tell about a doctor whose patient had thrown out his back. “How did it happen?” the doctor asked. “Oh, I was helping my wife get a load on her head,” the patient replied.
I don’t know if it’s true, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Burundi’s culture celebrates work ethic, and you don’t have to look far to see people who embody that value.
Most of us can hear something right now– I can hear traffic and the vacuum cleaner. And my dog getting annoyed at the vacuum cleaner.
Pineapple and coffee field at Gisuru School for the Deaf
In the United States, about 3% of the population is deaf. Many hearing-impaired people identify with Deaf culture and belong to a close-knit Deaf community.
But Burundi doesn’t have a thriving Deaf community. In fact, most people don’t have access to sign language, much less other accommodations.
This is a big problem, since deafness is common in the country. Many Burundians are born Deaf, while others become Deaf from improper administration of medicine or through illness.
Ben with a huge mural of Burundi. Gisuru School for the Deaf is in the eastern Ruyigi region.
To address this, Ben’s father and grandfather established the country’s first Deaf school in Bujumbura decades ago.
Kirundi word of the day: Ishuli (school).
But what about those in rural areas? What about those too far from Bujumbura?
Me with one of the social studies murals on the cafeteria walls. Can you find Burundi on the map?
My brother-in-law Danny moved far out into the hills to start another Deaf school on the opposite side of Burundi. We were able to tour the boarding school during the summer break and meet a few students.
He looks a bit uncomfortable in the photo, but in real life he was super excited to have his photo taken and signed that it was “Beautiful, BEAUTIFUL!”
Ben and I with the student we sponsor and his father. The traveled an hour to meet us and we were so thankful!
Meeting this student was amazing! We have been praying for this boy for five years and have had his photo on our fridge and have received drawings from him, and later letters when he learned to communicate. Now we got to see he and his father in person!
Students learn to cook in this kitchen at Gisuru School for the Deaf.
American Sign Language is derived from French sign language. I learned ASL in college and the two languages are close enough that I could have a conversation with this student as well as others we met during our time in Gisuru.
You can read more about that –and about Gisuru School for the Deaf– on World Footprints.
We’re in Africa! We’ve been looking forward to this trip for nine years, and we’re finally here.
Kirundi word of the day: Amahoro (hello)
Fun fact: It takes 30 hours to get from Glendale, Arizona to Bujumbura, Burundi.
Actually, it should take longer than that if you schedule long enough layovers– I don’t recommend sprinting across Chicago O’Hare Airport toting six carryon bags and an angry preschooler to catch a connecting flight.
Little Man was happy for most of the trip 🙂
If you’ve been following for a while, you might remember a previous post announcing that we’d be in Kenya for six weeks last spring. Well, that didn’t work out. But the Africa vacation to Burundi and Tanzania that we’re taking now is turning out to be much better than trip to work in the hospital would have been!
Ben was born in Burundi and lived here until he was four, when his family was displaced to Tanzania during the war. In fact, he lived in the house where I’m writing this– his father built it on the family’s mission station 30 years ago and now his oldest brother lives here. But being born in Burundi gives Ben more than just a passport that makes border agents do a double-take. It’s also given him a lifelong connection to a place that will always feel like home.
It took three hours to get through the Bujumbura airport
After our long trip to Bujumbura, Burundi, we finally managed to extricate ourselves from the airport to find the people who would pick us up. To my joy, I saw eight family members waiting for us in the parking lot, where they had spent hours so they could be sure to greet us! We haven’t seen some of the nephews in six years, so our drive to their home a few miles away was a happy reunion.
Bujumbura, Burundi
Keep following to hear about the rest of our Africa adventures! We’ll be here for a whole month traveling between several locations.
You can also sign up for my newsletter in the sidebar to get new posts sent monthly to your inbox.
Today marks the first day of the Tokyo Olympics! And that means the first year of Olympic surfing has begun. Woot woot! Surfing is probably my favorite sport, both to watch and to do. So I’m pretty stoked at the idea of seeing this become an Olympic sport.
Lest you think I’m some super cool surfing fiend, let me add a quick disclaimer: I am not great at surfing. Yes, I got up on my first try. Yes, I walked from my apartment to the beach with my board under my arm like a boss on the regular. Yes, I managed to figure it out on my own without a surf lesson. But as you can see in the photos, my board was the size of a tiny whale. And, as you will never, ever see in the embarrassing Go Pro videos Ben took, my form was less the stellar.
Yeah, maybe I should have taken those surf lessons…
Although Sint Maarten isn’t famous for its surfing, it does have some good surf spots, and we managed to find all the good ones (and a few very dangerous places, which I will not share. We are probably lucky to be alive). Here are some of our favorites!
Mullet Bay
Mullet Bay Beach was a five-minute walk from home. Yes, I know– we were living the dream. For real. Especially since I still haven’t found a beach I like better than Mullet, with its surfing, snorkeling, cliff-jumping, sunbathing, swimming, sailing, kayaking, skim boarding, and fishing opportunities. I definitely miss it, now that we live in the desert!
Surfing Mullet Bay is only good in the winter months, when the surf is choppy. Other times of the year, it’s smooth as glass– perfect for scoping out the parrotfish, cuttlefish, and blue tangs that live in the reef.
Surfing here makes me a little bit nervous because it’s close to the beach and tons of people way better than me pack together and compete for the same waves. If it was busy, I’d usually just look on and take photos. It’s a great place to watch, since you can see surfers close-up from the beach or the rocks.
Plum Bay Beach
Our favorite beach to surf is Plum Bay Beach in the lowlands on the French side. It’s popular but not too busy, meaning I had a chance at catching some waves most of the time, even if there were a couple of other people there. You do have to swim out a bit, and getting past the smaller breaks to the surfing-sized waves was tough with my bigger board. But the rides were pretty long, and the waves are just the right size for me!
Our friend Jake lived in the neighborhood next Plum Bay. Jake’s from Hawaii, and he’s incredible to watch. He helped us improve a lot. And may have kept me from crashing into rocks and dying a few times.
Le Galion
Le Galion in French Saint-Martin is by far the most popular surf spot in Saint Martin. Even though Hurricane Irma demolished the beach in 2017, the surf shop, SXM Surf Club, is still there. Actually, when we went back in 2019, it was the only business still there. Gone were the colorful umbrellas, burger shop, and paddleboard rentals. I don’t know if anything else has been rebuilt (comment if you know!), but just the surfing is worth a visit.
SXM Surf Club rents boards, offers affordable rides out to the break, and gives lessons. We never took a lesson, but the instructors were so nice and sometimes volunteered tips for free when we were out at the same time as them. I think if we go back, I might take a lesson for the fun of it! We did pay to ride the ferry out a few times, but usually we just gritted our teeth and made the 20-minute swim out on our own.
This spot is usually pretty busy, but it’s also huge, and people tend to be nicer about taking turns and letting slow newbies have a shot at the waves. Which is a really good for me. I only ever slammed into one person on a packed afternoon (oops). If you bring your own board when SXM surf club is not taking people out and opt to take the long swim, you’ll have more waves to yourself.
Guana Bay
Ben only surfed Guana Bay once with Matt and Jake, and I just watched. The waves break right on the beach, and it didn’t seem like a good day to break my neck. If you’re really good and have a smaller board, it looks like a fun place to go. I prefer the Guana Bay Hike on the other side of the hill– takes you right to gorgeous tide pools!
Petit Cayes
I’m not sure I’d necessarily recommend Petit Cayes for surfing, but Ben and Matt did go a couple of times. The concept is cool. You have to drive all the way up to the northern part of French Saint Martin, past Pinel Island, and park at Grandes Cayes. Then you hike around the mountain, with its stunning views of Tintamarre Island and beautiful geological features; crunch over thousands of washed-up coral skeletons; and find yourself on the most stunning, pristine white-sand beach you have ever laid eyes on.
Since few people make the long trek to Petit Cayes, it’s free of trash and crowds and feels like you just discovered a desert island. On the horizon, the thin line of Anguilla peers up from the waves. It’s a wonderful place just to sit and think.
The waves here were too big for swimming every time we went, so Ben and Matt decided to try to surf there. The reason I say I don’t recommend it is that the current is pretty strong and Ben felt like it might not be a great idea to make it a regular surf spot.
Cupecoy
Cupecoy is another beach that we could walk to. A few times, we walked there and I stayed up on the cliffs while Ben went down to surf. We also paddled there from Mullet once when the beach was busy– for fun, and to avoid having to walk through the nude beachgoers.
I think Cupecoy is really scary because the wave break right into a rocky outcropping. I didn’t feel confident in my ability to steer my orca-sized surfboard well enough to stay alive, so even when I went out, I preferred to sit behind the break and watch the sunset. After all, what’s better than watching the sun dip below the Caribbean Sea?
It’s hard to believe it’s been four years since I’ve been surfing! Ben went with SXM Surf Club when we visited the island in 2019, but not me. Next time we’re in Sint Maarten, I’ll definitely go! For now, I’ll be happy getting to watch the best of the best compete for gold in Tokyo. Go USA!
And now, for your entertainment, a sneaky photo of Ben walking into American University of the Caribbean with a surfboard so he could run straight to the beach after class:
I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about Africa. For one thing, I’m writing a novel about an American kid in a Kenyan boarding school. For another, we’re planning on taking a trip to East Africa in the spring. Ben is allowed a residency rotation overseas, and obviously, he picked going home!
Ben near Lake Tanganyika in his hometown
It’s hard to believe we haven’t been to Africa since 2013! For someone like Ben, who grew up there, eight years is a long, long time to stay away. We were the only ones to miss the last family reunion, thanks to Ben’s med school schedule. And when you have 35 people in your immediate family (hope I added that right), living in six countries across three continents, it’s quite a bummer to mess up an opportunity to get a family photo where nobody’s photoshopped in.
Visiting a Burundian national park. Ben’s grandfather helped to start it after WWII.
Fortunately for Ben, even though it’s been a long time since he’s used Swahili on the daily, he does have frequent opportunities to use it at work. There are many people from Congo in our city, and whenever someone shows up to the hospital, Ben is able to conduct exams in a language they are more comfortable using. I, on the other hand, am getting pretty rusty. You know, rusty on the hundred or so words I actually know in Swahili. Looks like I have some work to do if I want to be able to practice any conversational skills at all while we’re there!
Swinging on vines – not just in movies!
We’re excited to go to Africa, introduce our son to the continent, and revisit the places Ben grew up. But one of the coolest things about this trip is that Ben will get to work at the very hospital where his life was saved, where he realized his calling into medicine. Over a decade ago, he was laying in one of the beds with a IV in his arm, recovering from spinal meningitis and watching the staff go about their daily tasks. He knew he wanted to use the second chance at life to pour into patients, just like those doctors and nurses. And now he gets to go back to the same hospital and do just that.
Lake Nakuru National Park in Kenya
Isn’t it amazing how God redeems our circumstances? Sometimes we never see how he does it, but other times life comes back full-circle and we can see how to worst days of our lives change us into the people we are supposed to be.
Just for fun, here are some of my favorite photos from our 2013 visit to Burundi, Kenya, and Tanzania.
Sailing Lake Tanganyika
Baboons (Ben calls them BADboons)
Overlooking the Rift Valley
Subbing at a Deaf school
Friends who helped with navigating the language barrier
Breana Johnson 