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.
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Saint Martin’s Day is the biggest day on the Island– aside from Carnival, of course! Princess Juliana Airport, which is in our neck of the woods, holds a family fun day to celebrate the holiday. R and his friends were planning to go, so Ben and I loaded up the little guy we were babysitting into the car and headed to the airport.
The air was full of festivity! Dozens of bikers in matching t-shirts zipped by, honking at us happily. Behind them, young biker-wannabees showed off their wheelie abilities on bicycles. The air was filled with the sounds of Caribbean music, and the scent of local flavors began to creep past our noses.
Give a kid a balloon sword, and he’ll whack Minnie Mouse in the face with it. Guaranteed. What else do you expect him to do with it? Hold it gingerly and avoid smacking other people? Of course not! I’m the grown-up, so naturally, I had to ask him to do the impossible.
However, when a king gives you the sword, you must wield it with honor to protect the kingdom.
Even though the sword was pretty rad, the little guy was more enthralled with the bouncy house than anything else. There were two of them, so he ran from one to other for about two hours.
I could barely drag him away to watch the dancing and the singing of the Saint Martin National Anthem! The girl who sang the song was pretty awesome. We definitely enjoyed it, and even the little guy’s attention was captured. He sang along with his own version of the song: “O I love my paradise, nature beauty very nice.”
The dancing was less interesting to him, but I was not about to miss it! There were a few different teams that performed, all of them decked out in patriotic colors.
The petting zoo was lots of fun! We got to feed the animals. The little guy loved the bunnies, but he said the pig was yucky.
Between the animals, living statues, balloons, crowds of screaming children, and bouncy houses, the little guy was pretty pooped after three hours. I took him home.
Meanwhile, Ben hung out for a few more hours with R and his friends and the volunteer crew from K1 Britannia Foundation. They had a great time playing card games and munching on pizza and cake. I’m not going to lie, I was kinda jealous about the cake.
I’m sure going to miss Saint Martin’s Day next year! The parade in Philipsburg last year was super fun, and so was this year’s event at Princess Juliana Airport. Maybe next year, when we’re back in the United States, I’ll have to track down some island food and play the national anthem a few times.
It’s a mystery to me that Le Galion Bay Beach, Saint Martin isn’t more popular. It really has everything you could ask for in a beach, minus the gigantic hotels and resorts that have commercialized so many of Saint Martin’s other nice beaches. Come with me and my friends to learn why Le Galion Beach should be your favorite!
1. It’s family friendly. Yesterday, I took four boys of varying ages to Le Galion Beach. We met up with several of our friends (some intentional meetings, others a happy happenstance), and everyone was happy and had a great time. I wasn’t the least bit concerned to watch a four-year-old in the water– it’s so shallow for so far that you can’t possibly get in over your head very fast. There’s a lot of clean, white sand that is perfect for building sand castles, too.
2. There’s no better place for water sports on the entire island. “But, wait,” you island veterans cry, “What about Orient Bay?” Well, maybe, if you want to spend a bajillion dollars for rentals. Orient Bay, just down the road from Le Galion, has dozens of vendors, while Galion only has two. However, Galion’s are far cheaper. Tropical Wave offers a larger variety of rentals (including beach chairs and umbrellas for those whose favorite water sport is napping on the beach), but SXM Surf Club (AKA Windy Reef) has better options for surfers and also offers a boat ride to the waves. Both are good options, it just depends what you want to do.
There are a lot of good options at Le Galion, including a swimming pool right in the ocean and a dive platform. We usually opt for surfing. The waves break pretty far from shore, which is nice because that means the beach is always calm. The paddle out to the waves is about 20 minutes, but you can catch the boat from SXM Surf Club that leaves twice a day. It’s only $5 per person, and board rentals aren’t too much, either. I think you can rent a board for the afternoon for about $10. Correct me if I’m wrong. We always take our own boards.
You can also rent a stand-up paddleboard from Tropical Wave. A few months ago at Orient, I paid about $20 for a half hour. That’s a little on the expensive side even for Orient, but contrast that with the $20 I paid to rent two paddleboards for an hour at Le Galion. The older kids and teens got their fill of paddling around the bay. Again, I wasn’t worried about them because the water is so shallow. Even if they were prone to panic in deep water, they would be fine at Le Galion.
Kite surfing and windsurfing are both available, too. I believe the windsurfing is available from SXM Surf Club. I can’t remember the name of the man who runs the kite surfing, but I do know his wife has a little art gallery on Old Street in Philipsburg. I doubt that is helpful to you, but if you’re desperate to try it, you can go grab a business card from the gallery and give him a call. It’s probably cheaper than the cost of doing it through Viator, but I’ll include a like here in case you would rather go to a website to book than wander through downtown.
There’s also a thing called canoe surfing that you can do at Le Galion. I’m not sure if you can just show up and do it, or if you have to book ahead on Viator. Obviously, I haven’t done it yet, but it looks like fun!
Like I said, I just rented a couple of paddle boards. I managed to entertain seven people with them. Paddleboarding is probably my favorite thing to do on the water. The kids like it, too! These two little ones thought it was a pirate ship.
Ray and the Kings had a great time paddling around the bay. They took turns with the boards and a couple of snorkel masks that I brought along. Stashing a few snorkel masks is always a good idea in Saint Martin, especially with older kids and teens!
3. Cool Wildlife. When I asked Big King if he saw anything interesting while snorkeling, he replied, “girls.” Of course girls are more interesting than fish to a 14-year-year-old boy, but fortunately the kids saw some pretty cool animals, too. They even saw a sting ray! The bay is carpeted by both sand and sea grass, so there are plenty of underwater animals to observe. The birds and land animals are cool, too. Head down the beach away from all the people, and you’ll find an untamed stretch of sand and bush that is home to many species of birds, lizards, and anything else you can imagine.
4. The People. I’m not just saying this because I went to Le Galion with a bunch of people I like and ran into a bunch of other people I like. The social atmosphere of Le Galion Beach is pretty chill and friendly. It tends to be filled with local families rather than tourists or expats, so you get a whole different vibe that is pretty nice. The kids in our group made friends with kid from other groups, which was lots of fun for them. Also people generally have more clothes on here than they do at other beaches on the French side– always a plus.
So there you have it. That’s why Le Galion should be your favorite Saint Martin beach. If this article doesn’t convince you, surely a trip to the beach can! If you want to go with me, I’m always up for chilling at Le Galion. Just make sure we bring a few kids along to make it that much more fun.
Marrying into a missionary family is hard. It’s the most wonderful thing in almost every way, but it is so hard to always have to say goodbye. For third culture kids, who grew up in another culture and lived a life of transition and change, goodbyes have always been a part of life. Ben and his family are all third culture kids, with the exception of myself and two other in-laws. They’re so used to this goodbye thing, and they’re so good at it. They know how to leave with grace and meet up again and start right where they left off. I’m not good at good byes. They are the hardest thing in the world for me.
This last Johnson family reunion has been particularly hard, because each family left one-by-one, and I was the last to go. Every time someone left, I’d say my goodbyes and then find somewhere to be alone and cry.
The hardest people to say goodbye to are the kids, especially the littlest ones. We adults are okay at all staying in touch, despite lack of good internet. We video chat with them, and we write to them, and everybody’s on Facebook and email, but none of the nieces and nephews are old enough for that yet. We only get to see them when we actually see them. Since the Johnson family lives in six different countries, we see them only every couple of years. There’s a lot of growing up that happens during those years, and I’m missing it. I’ll meet a baby who’s crawling around on the floor, and the next time I see her, she’s running around the house and telling me all about her favorite princesses. I’m missing the little tea parties, I’m missing the end-of-school-year ice creams, I’m missing lazy Saturdays at the beach and dinners together. With every turn of the calendar is another two or three birthdays come and gone, and I wasn’t there.
It stinks that I have to spend the first day or so of every family reunion getting to know the kids all over again. I have to gently let them warm up to me, and I have to re-introduce myself to the littlest ones for the second or third time. They have no idea that I think about them and miss them every day of their lives. And then when I finally get to see them, it’s for just a few days and then we’re all off to our own corners of the world again. How am I supposed to form close relationships like this? How am I supposed to be a significant part of their lives in I can’t even see them but once every two or three years? Even when we do move to Africa, we’ll only live near one or two families at a time. And by the time we get there, the oldest ones will be in high school. Sometimes I wonder, will that be too late? Will I have missed out entirely by then? It’s not fair to love someone so much and to be so far away. I have to let my heart break over them again and again.
In my perfect world, Ben’s whole family and my whole family would all live in the same place as us. We’re so lucky that everyone on both sides gets along and genuinely likes each other, and I just wish we could take advantage of that all the time! We’d have big family dinners every week. We’d share all the holidays. I’d get one-on-one time with every kid. I’d get to hang out all the time with our parents, my sister and Ben’s siblings. And nobody would have to say goodbye.
I’ve learned something important about goodbyes from my TCK family: goodbyes are never forever. Even if my dream of being close geographically will never come true while we’re alive, Jesus’ death and resurrection has made it possible for us all to live that way forever in Heaven. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop crying about goodbyes, but focusing on eternity rather than this temporary situation will help me to cope with this ever-transient lifestyle we live. Furthermore, it will keep my eyes on Jesus and on the end goal of glorifying the Lord and enjoying him forever. When that day comes, I’ll spend all eternity worshipping the Lord with my family—and never have to say goodbye again. What a beautiful hope.
If you’re an expat, some things that aren’t too typical start to look normal. Can you relate to any of these?
Duolingo
This screen has become very familiar as you desperately try to re-learn all that Spanish you never actually absorbed in high school. After a while, it turns from a language learning tool to an obsession….
As a bonus, buildings without emergency exits do, in fact, become commonplace. As do the lack of smoke detectors, hot water, and electricity.
2. You drive like a maniac
Right side of the road, wrong side of the road,  middle of the road, not even on the road. Everyone else drives like a kangaroo on seven Red Bulls, and so do you, now.
3. Your change purse looks like this.
Seriously, if I take that Kenyan shilling from Ben’s high school laundry money stash to the laundry room one more time, I am going to fling the entire washing machine out the window.
4. Knock-offs
You can’t tell me this isn’t J.C. Penny in disguise.
5. Your passport is like our third arm
Your passport is literally worth more than your entire net worth combined. You would rather fall off a cliff into a moat full of hungry sharks while wearing a flaming straight jacket than loose that thing.
What are some other signs that you might be an expat? Tell me in the comments!
Cross-cultural transition can teach the expat many lessons. Last post, we heard from Emily Montgomery about what she has learned from the process. Today, Emily offers five more words of wisdom.Â
5. Get in your zone.
I define a comfort zone as a situation where I know what is expected and I am capable of succeeding. In my own culture, I subconsciously orchestrated my interactions so I spent most of my time in my comfort zone.
That handy little ability is not possible when you enter an unknown cultural context.
Right after I moved, I had an identity crisis that lasted several months. Because I was not operating from within my comfort zone, I wasn’t acting like myself.
I was often surprised by my responses. Experiences that used to excite me no longer did. The limits of what I could handle in certain situations were different than they had been in my own culture. It was so disorienting.
And then I started to develop a comfort zone in my new context.
As things became more familiar and I learned the cultural norms around me, some of my old traits began to reemerge. My confidence started to reappear slowly.
There will always be some parts of your comfort zone that cannot translate to the new culture. So, parts of your personality will only come out when you visit home. But, there are also new layers to yourself that you never saw before, that only exist in the new context.
Be brave and engage the new culture. It will be uncomfortable at first, but remember that you are expanding the zone where you can truly be yourself. It’s worth it!
 6. Obey God today.
 One time during the first wave of transition, I was crying and talking to God. I said between sobs, “My kids won’t even know their cousins!” Then it was like God told me to really think about what I was saying.
I was single with no prospects of marriage in view. Children were a far-off dream at that point. I was carrying the weight of a sacrifice God hadn’t even asked me to make.
In Luke 9:23, Jesus told his followers to pick up their crosses daily. I learned to apply that to my transition process.
Emotionally, I acknowledged and grieved what I was currently missing in the lives of my community at home because I was far away. But, I didn’t allow myself to grieve an event that hadn’t happened yet.
Only God can see for certain how your future will play out. You don’t know that you’ll miss your brother’s wedding, never see your grandpa again, or spend every holiday season away from home.
The only sacrifice Jesus is asking you to make is the one you are facing today. And, he promised that he will give you the right amount of grace to carry that sorrow (2 Corinthians 12:9).
 7. Take on a posture of prayer.
About a year before I moved overseas, I heard about the idea of creating a personal prayer posture. The friend who told me about it said it helped her to focus on being present with Jesus.
The habit of getting into a certain physical position and opening up time with God with a certain phrase can be very stabilizing in times of insecurity and transition.
I was so grateful for this practice as I weathered the adjustment to a new culture.
There were times when God seemed very quiet and I felt very alone. It was comforting to pray the words of my prayer posture and then just sit in the sanctity and intimacy that had already been created by those same words hundreds of times before.
It was like I had stirred up a current towards God that I could just float in on those days when I didn’t have the energy to swim.
There is no magical secret about this practice. Your prayers are not more effective if you take on a certain posture first. The whole goal is to honestly come into God’s presence and pay attention to him. If a prayer posture is no longer accomplishing that, ditch it!
8. It’s just life.
Leaving your home culture and building a life in a foreign country is an unusual thing. Even with our increasingly accessible world, expatriates are just a tiny percent of the global population. By relocating to a new culture, you are doing something dramatically out of the ordinary.
I was caught up in that drama at first, which made my already-heightened emotions even crazier. Every decision felt weighty. Every task felt urgent. Every prayer was desperate, and every success was a miracle.
When my body began to break down from the stress, I realized I wouldn’t be able to sustain such high intensity for much longer.
As I started to really look at my daily life, I realized it was just that—life.
I had to buy groceries and cook food. I had to pay bills and save for big purchases. I made friends, told stories, took trips, did laundry, and procrastinated the chores I wasn’t fond of.
Life was an adventure, and a challenge, and a thrill. It was also “like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone” (James 4:14 New Living Translation).
Continually remind yourself that this craziness is just life. See from God’s eternal perspective. Don’t make a bigger deal of these temporary things than they deserve.
9. Laugh at yourself.
I remember visiting a local friend’s home for the first time and meeting her elderly mother. The older woman gestured emphatically to her head when I greeted her, pulling my head down. I didn’t understand the language well enough to know what she was saying, so I very bewilderedly leaned down to tap my forehead against hers.
I learned later that it’s customary to greet elderly people with a kiss on the head. My friend’s mother got her head bopped instead because I was clueless!
There are so many funny things that happen when intelligent, capable adults suddenly find themselves bumbling around in a new culture. Don’t take yourself too seriously. If you can laugh about your mistakes, your local friends probably will, too.
I also learned the value of game nights, dance parties, karaoke, and anything else lighthearted and silly.
By moving to a new culture, you’ve introduced an immense amount of stress into your life. Temper that with occasional times to let your hair down and simply laugh as hard as you can. Trust me, those activities will do wonders for your spirit.
10. Wait it out.
In a recently released movie, a girl describes the transition to a new culture perfectly.
“You’ll feel so homesick that you’ll want to die, and there’s nothing you can do about it apart from endure it. But you will, and it won’t kill you. And one day the sun will come out – you might not even notice straight away, it’ll be that faint… And you’ll realize that this is where your life is.” (Brooklyn 2015)
Struggling to adjust to a new culture and dealing with homesickness are not signs of personal weakness or failure. They are not feelings to be ashamed of or minimized.
I often looked at other friends who had moved overseas and berated myself for struggling so much more than they seemed to. I put a huge amount of added pressure on myself to “snap out of it” and fix the problem of my culture shock as quickly as possible.
None of my desperate responses helped the situation, which only led to more disappointment and frustration. It was a vicious cycle.
Finally after many months of this downward spiral, I threw my hands up and just gave in to the fact that I was struggling. I admitted it to my friends at home and in the new culture.
It felt like settling in for a long, cold, winter hibernation. I said some difficult “no’s” and cut back on everything I could. And then, I waited for God to do his work in that season.
And he did.
Conclusion
I talk about the first “season” or “wave” of cultural transition because I don’t think it ends after the initial adjustment period is over. We will always be foreigners now—a little different, a little confusing—even when we are in our home culture again.
That identity can be challenging. But, it is also an honor.
We can take our place among the ranks of the people of faith mentioned in Hebrews 11. “They agreed that they were foreigners and nomads here on earth” (verse 13b New Living Translation). The chapter goes on to say that they were looking forward to their true homeland in heaven.
That is the hope for us, as well. There is only one place where we will ever really be at home, and Jesus is preparing it for us right now. Hope in that as you learn lessons of your own on this crazy adventure of cultural transition!
