little luda

today i went and hung out with some of my favorite people in the world who happen to be somali bantu refugees. i went with my friend jenny, and it was good to be with her again. we used to call ourselves paul (jenny) and barnabas (me). 6 months ago, when i was still living with her, we envisioned planting churches together, moving into low-income houseing together, and being single women missionaries together for the rest of our lives (or at least the next 3 years). 5 months ago she told me that she gave her heart to joel and she was easing out of the somali ministry. today was the first time i have gone to the apartment complex with her in 4 months.
well, it was great. instead of me being the homework club nazi, i sat on a couch in a strange smelling apartment and watched life being lived in front of me.
maybe it was because i had already worked 8 hours today at starbucks, or maybe it was because i was passive aggressively wanting to get back at jenny, but i seriously just sat on the couch in seynab's apartment for four hours while jenny cooked a meal, led songs, and organized games for about 20 people.
strangely enough, i didn't feel guilty.
i was, as jenny later called it, a "human mosh pit". there was a rotating cast of kids who would sidle up to me, lay their heads on my knee, slip thier hand into mine and sort of sidle on up into my lap. at one point i had five 3 year old boys trying to cuddle with me simultaneously. at another point i had 4 different girls, their hands full of chicken grease, trying to braid my hair but giving up quickly due to the fact that they had never tried braiding a white girl's hair before. we watched wallace and gromit. we tried (and failed miserably) to put together a little mermaid puzzle. we listened to somalian music, and danced our ever-loving little hearts out. but mostly, we just on the couch. we sat there and basked in the collective glow of the shared company.

i could have lived my whole life there but unfortunately i had to make an appearence at a certain birthday party because jenny had already promised that we would be there. we went to flying pie and met up with a group of about 25 kids from our church, and we wished our friend the happiest of birthdays. i sat down at a table and listened to the conversations going on around me: worship music, shoes, chocolate, shitty scream-o bands (sorry mom, but it's true), and various other topics. i sat with my elbow on the table, propping my head up in order to look interested. but i wasn't interested in the slightest. not in any of those subjects.

i am slowly, slowly, coming to the realization that i will always feel more comfortable on a sour-smelling couch in a stuffy african apartment than i will ever feel at a crowded, lively pizza joint on a saturday night.
i know. that realization is shocking.
absolutely shocking.