GREAT NEWS from Pretoria

Jenn's mom is in Pretoria, and was able to spend some time with her tonight (8 hours time difference) - she is doing amazingly well, good blood pressure, no fever, on 30% oxygen (everyone keeps asking me about this) - Brenda says the hospital is amazing, the doctor is very impressive, and Jenn has a 24-7 nurse beside her bed, constantly monitoring her. They did have her up and walking today, and started some light exercises.

Tim is doing fine - is still having difficulty remembering events, and still somewhat confused. He had a chance to visit Jenn today, and they both fell asleep.

At this point, it appears that Jenn will be in ICU for another week, then will move to a "High Care" room for a week, and then to a regular hospital room - and if she progresses adequately, she may be coming home in about three weeks, for further surgery (plastic) and other care.

So, in spite of this being a very scary time, and being way off balance, everything seems to be working out.

Most likely, from what we can determine, because removing the spleen reduces her immunity, she will not be posted back in Malawi - South Africa is an outside chance. But that's for another day.

Now it's time to celebrate the end of an incredible year, full of about every emotion and experience a family can have, and to welcome the dawn of a new year - hopefully less traumatic, but eventful, fun, and full of celebration and joy. Happy New Year to all of our friends and family!!!

Dad's thoughts about Jenn

Going through all of this has brought out a new perception of Jenn - many of you may have seen this differently than a Dad, having been through different events with her, by now I see an incredibly strong, level headed, cool headed young woman with a strong presence of mind. Yes, her body is badly broken, but she is still Jenn.

Thinking events through, at the crash site, SHE called us - as badly injured as she was, and as traumatized by watching her effects being stolen as she was fighting to get help - she called and said "Mom, I've been in a bad accident, and am hurt - call the Peace Corp. I am in Mzima". I also understand that she was concerned about Tim and his head injury, and kept after people to keep him awake - again, inspite of her own injuries.

Talking to the acting country director, who was with Jenn all night the first night, he said it was a great experience to talk with her and get to know her - again, in spite of her condition.

And in Pretoria, she called us as she was going into surgery, and told us "This is an anesthesia surgery, but it is something that I have to do. I love you".

And the PC medical director in Pretoria told me today that, after the transfusion, it was apparent that she was doing better - she greeted him with a big smile!!

What an incredible, strong, intelligent young woman!!!

Monday Update to Jenn's Status

We have just talked to the Peace Corps medical officer, and Jenn is doing fine after her surgery. She had to have a blood transfussion (the doctor assured us that they screen the blood for hiv, malaria, hepititas, etc. by the same standards as American hospitals) and that helped her alot. She had a big smile for him when he arrived, and is able to sit up for short periods at a time.

She will be in intensive care for several days, and then in the hospital, eventually moving to an apartment near the Peace Corps headquarters, where they will set her appointments for her and take her to them.

Her mom, aunt and uncle are planning to leave Tuesday afternoon and go to see her, so they should be there on Wednesday some time and we will have more information. Jenn's throat is sore from the tube inserted for anasthesia, so she won't be able to talk to us for a couple of days.

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers - they mean a lot to us and Jenn.

Sunday late afternoon update

Jenn is out of surgery, the doctors had to remove her spleen and insert a tube in her lung, which turned out to have small holes in it. She is stable, the surgeon has gone home for the night. We will talk with the Peace Corps medical officer in the morning, and will know more overall then.

We are lucky that she is still with us. It looks like she will have a long period of recuperation, once she is past the immediate danger.

If you would like more information, you can call her parents at (615) 373-2822, or e-mail at bhcjr@comcast.net.

Medical Update

We have just heard from Jenn's doctor again, a new scan showed that her spleen is damaged and bleeding - they are prepping for surgery, to go in and find out how bad the damage is. We will know more in a few hours, after she wakes up from surgery. The doctor says " she is quite an amazing young woman, very strong. She has been through a very bad ordeal, but is still relatively upbeat". Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers.

Sunday Mid-morning update

We talked to Jenn and her doctor today - she is in Pretoria, and is doing ok. She has a cut over her eye, that they are going to clean up and re-stitch, multiple glass cuts, a broker collar bone, a broken bone near her nose, chipped teeth, at least four cracked ribs, bruised lungs and a bruised heart. She will require very little surgery, but will take some time to recuperate. She is on oxgen, so she could not talk for long. The doctors are going to run some more tests, we will know more tomorrow, Monday, late afternoon. Tim has a concussion, and is sleeping alot, but is up and moving around. Jenn is not able to walk around yet.

She and Tim lost everything they had - if someone has a way to get to her belongings in Chitimba and secure them, that would be extremely helpful, as we feel that as soon as word gets out that she is not there, everything there will be stolen also. She has no clothes with her, other than what is on her back.

We will have a hospital room number later today.

Jenn Update Sunday Morning

We have heard from the doctor in Pretoria, Jenn and Tim have landed in Johannesburg and are being transported to the hospital in Pretoria, Unitas, a first class hospital - the largest private hospital in Africa, highly accredited. We won't know more about their condition until later today, and will post an update then. Jenn will be in Pretoria for some time during recuperation, staying in an apartment near Peace Corps headquarters and the hospital for follow up treatment.

More later, Jenn's dad.

Jennifer update Saturday Night

We heard from the Peace Corp - Jenn and Tim are in an ambulance right now, being moved from Mzuzu to Lilongwe, where they will overnight in a hospital near the airport - where they will be medivaced at 10:00 am local time to Praetoria, South Africa, for evaluation and treatment at one of the best hospitals in Africa - a new facility. It is the primary facility for the Peace Corps for all of Africa.

She and Tim are both stable, the medivac is just a precaution, because of the type of some of their injuries, and the PC wants to make a state of the art evaluation.

We probably will not hear more from Jenn / about Jenn until some time Sunday or Monday, and will post additional information as we get it.

Malawi Update

I have asked my dad to post this update on my blog. After a nice Christmas with friends, Tim and I were on the way to Lilongwe the Saturday afternoon when the car we were travelling in blew a tire, spun around and flipped over. We were pulled out of the windows upside down, and taken to Mzuzu Central Hospital, Rumphi District.

We are very lucky to be alive, as the car was being driven too fast when the tire blew. I have a broken clavical, glass cuts, chipped teeth, cuts on my eye and head, and some trouble breathing. Tim has a concussion, and I don't know what else.

I feel very safe here, it is a good hospital. My mom and dad have been up all night (8 hours time difference) working with the Peace Corps and American Embassy, and an embassy doctor has just arrived with three cars to check us out. If we are stable, we will stay in Mzuzu tonight, and then be driven to Lilongwe tomorrow (Sunday). It is very difficult to drive at night here, and even in the day time it is about a three hour drive.

One disappointment - the villagers stripped everything from the car almost before we were gotten out, and took everything. The traffic officer told me that he had my passport, but at this point, I don't have a cell phone. If you want to keep in touch, you might want to call my parents at (615) 373-2822.

I will keep you posted as I know more about our situation. Please keep us in your thoughts.

My New Address in Chitimba

Hi, I have a new address. I LOVE to get mail - it's almost the only way I can communicate with the outside world! A letter costs about a dollar to send, an envelope the size of a fedex package about ten dollars. and a U.S. Post office box about $40.00. I LOVE packages - see my list of things below that I could use. And, thanks for writing.

Jenn Christian, PCV
Box 34
Chitimba, CDSS
Chitimba, Rumphi
Malawi, Africa

E-Mail from Jenn 12-7-08

Hey there,I'm sorry; we had a storm here, and I'm not sure whether it was the storm or a lack of units on my phone which wouldn't let my call gothrough.

Things are pretty hectic here with swearing in tomorrow, and I'mleaving for my site first on Wednesday morning, so it's good, scary, sad, etc. right now. I have sessions all day today and swearing in / no time to buy my buckets for my house tomorrow. I would love to talk to you guys and if you want to chat briefly tonight (like after 5 my time), that would be fine, but when I'll really want phone calls is probably more like Thursday through the weekend when I'll be all alone for the first time here. (Well, alone and surrounded, I'm sure by neighbors,etc.)

My address (but don't use this one yet) I think is Box 34,Chitimba, but I don't know how to write it on a package, and I'm not sure whether I also need to get my own box in addition. Really, I'llknow a lot more once I get to site, as I didn't address the address issue while I was at site visit. I'm very near the post office andwill drop by as soon as I can on Thursday to figure it out.

Some things I've thought of that I'd like to have (but don't need; just for anyone who wants to send something): (I have a list, but I don't have it with me; this is off the top of my head; I can be more specific later.) Spiral notebooks (which excite me to no end at this point; I won't even write in the one I have here because I'm saving it up), Pens (one that fell in the box you sent me last time has really saved me for the past month).

Food! Easy to eat, no-heat, spicy, tasty, delicious, nutritious (you know how I love Whole Foods) food! (I can get peanut butter here.)Things like olive oil, spices, granola bars, junk food, candy, tea, etc. are not available here.Aveno face wipes (remember the green and white canister I brought here? Rough on one side, smooth on the other--great for scrubbing the grime out of my skin.) They require water, but it's so worth it; it's one of the only things that can make me still feel like a girl sometimes--I've been rationing them out. anything that smells good--lotions are also nice for the same reason as above--like the body butter in my room from Micki would be great.

I'd love to have my black and white going out shirt just b/c I like it (even if I only get to wear it like once in Lilongwe sometime). Ziplock bags, the hair clips (I think they're called something like alligator clips with the interlocking prongs--I've lost all of mine, and I really like them). Keep the books coming--they're fantastic. Clothing: Keep it cool, keep the skirts long and hippie-ish (thebrown tie-dye is my favorite), t-shirts (I love the ones fromFranklin), tank tops with wide straps (no spaghetti straps or even thin straps, whole top of the shoulder coverage is best), short-sleeved collared shirts for work, etc.

TOILET PAPER!!!! nice soap is nice but not as important. Anything ziplock or tupperware is brilliant. Pictures for my walls would be excellent. Ugh, I know I'm forgetting important things, but I just can't remember right now; it's early.

I guess the most important thing is to note that none of these are necessities and that, for the most part, I can get everything I need here in country. The luxuries from home are things like real shampoo and easy food which are way outside my budget, but there isn't anything I need, so don't worry on that front.I love you lots and really have to go!

Talk to you soon!

Jenn

November 6 2008 e-mail from Jenn

Hey there, Just a quick note b/c I'm in Lilongwe for the day, and there are people anxiously awaiting the computer here. I don't know whether you've received my letter yet, but it's on the way, if not. Life is great; Africa is great; I'm seeing a great guy; and generally, I am very happy here! Please tell Barbara Anne that I've received 2 letters and a package, and I've gotten two boxes, an envelope, and 2 letters from you guys (thank you thank you thank you). We finish up homestay next week, and then back to the college (which is excellent b/c I get to see the guy I'm seeing every day). I can't tell you what a great fit P.C. has been for me; hard, yes, but I'm just really happy here! Please tell Bob I say "hi"! Please let me know what' s up with all of you; I hope you're well and that things are going as well for you as they are here for me. Love you lots; looking forward to your letters! Jenn

First Thoughts from Malawi

Leaving

In the twenty or so moves I've made over the past five years, I've learned two things: 1)The more you open yourself up to people and places, the harder it is to leave them. 2) Leaving is never easy. I had hoped to take you guys from skinny-dipping in Vermont to riding on the back of a stranger's bicycle in Berlin, from Shankill Road in Belfast to the Christmas Market in Edinburgh. I wanted to show you Vermont in January and my cross-country road trip to L.A. with my mom. I have photos for you of my first garden, my family's trip out on Lake Mead, my Peace Corps invitation, and my adorable dog. In this last few hours I have here, though, I won't attempt such feats. I find myself, instead, wanting only to say 'thank you' to all of you--a gratitude which I am ill-equipped to express.
From gifts to dinners to parties to knot-tying lessons to help with shopping and packing to encouragement, letters, and phone calls...you all have made this somewhat impossible dream possible. This move was one in which I had time to truly open myself up to the people and places around me, and although it has made the goodbyes harder, I have learned that in doing so, I have found in all of you great strength and support as I step out into the unknown. My gratitude and love run more deeply than I can tell you. I look forward to the conversations I will have with each of you over the next two years. Much love, and, well, peace.

P.S. Come visit!

Tourism No. 1

A little Berlin.

Proximity

When I sat down at the table and finally lifted my camera and daypack from around my shoulders, I pulled out the birthday card my mom had stuffed in the top of my backpack just two nights before. I had saved it all day, promising myself to fulfill the vow I'd made that I'd take myself out to a nice dinner to celebrate. When I opened the card, a tinny rendition of "Happy Birthday to You" rang out across the almost-empty restaurant. It was late; I had lost track of time wondering through the streets of Berlin, my headphones blaring, a camera lens framing my view. I slammed the card shut, blushing and--admittedly--chuckling slightly at the possibility that this was, in fact, the exact scene my mom had pictured when she'd picked out a card for my European birthday. Although the intimate Italian restaurant with its dark wood interior left little room for the noise to escape, my small serenade hadn't drawn the attention of the only other couple in the room. From behind the bar, though, the waiter caught my eye, smiled slightly with the same warmth with which he'd coaxed me in off the street.

"Buona sera," he'd said from behind the outdoor menu where I stood translating dish after dish, tired after a day of calling on old high school and college German to get around the city. I pulled my headphones from my ears, surprised to see him standing before me from out of nowhere. "Moechtest du essen?" he asked. "Bitte." He'd led me to the last table in the back corner of the restaurant, brought me the glass of merlot I'd ordered, and watched me from behind the bar, where he stood drying and re-drying wine glasses.

He took my order, poured me another glass of wine. "Kommst du aus Daenemark?" he asked. "Nein, ich bin Amerikanerin." He was surprised, perhaps thrown off by my dark hair, round cheeks, and strange accent. He was Turkish, I learned, and enjoyed visiting Berlin, but was tired of living here, working in a restaurant. He returned to my table often, lingering a bit longer each time, returning always with a fresh set of questions. What was I doing in Berlin? Did I like the city? What was I doing out at a restaurant all alone? Simple questions with such complex answers.

I watched as he served the couple at the adjacent table a pair of after-dinner shots, a restaurant tradition. "Wie alt bist du heute?" he asked. He had been excited to hear that it was my birthday, and he seemed to enjoy my wanton ordering, the unselfconscious flagrance with which I ordered an entire pizza, another glass of wine--the decadence of an Amaretto Eis. "Drei-und-zwanzig," I said. Twenty-three. Again, simple--the image I had of twenty-three; again, complex--the life I was leaving behind with twenty-two.

We fell into conversation when the couple at the next table had left. The two of us, the candle-lit room, the broken German and English with which we danced around one another: I giggled, brought a hand to my lips. A man came and sat at the bar, and though the waiter left to serve him, he held my gaze as I sipped lazily from my glass, savored the last creamy bites of desert. I turned to peer at the moon shining over the dim lights of late-night Berlin.

He brought two shots to my table and toasted with me to my birthday. We clinked the tiny glasses together, threw back the thin liquid, and inhaled deeply. I nodded, closed my eyes, and smiled. He leaned in and whispered to me: he would be off soon, would I wait for him if he brought me another glass of wine.

I waited for him by a drugstore behind the restaurant as he locked up for the evening. It was dark as I watched him come towards me from the around the side of the building; the city was sleeping. I knew this scenario well; from writing to parties, most of my life over the past year had taken place while others were sleeping. He held my hand, led me to a bench beside the ever-vigilant DDR TV tower. Water tumbled from a fountain across the clearing. He leaned in, kissed me deep. I ran my hand over his shaved head. Skin.

I pulled him from the bench, led him farther down the lane to the sidewalk by the road. We walked a bit farther--talking, laughing. He took me to the left and down a narrow tree-lined path beneath early fall branches. The path opened into a clearing; he pulled me close, kissed me again. This is what I'd wanted in Europe, the chance to disappear with romantic strangers, time to be frivolous and to go wherever my days took me. I had come at a sprint, trying to shirk the heft of the past several years.

I want, I want, I want, I thought of the Turkish man with the kind eyes. I felt his hand gentle on my cheek, began to relax into him. But I need, came a certainty from the pit of my stomach. I needed more than a simple fix; I needed something that was much harder to want than this. I pulled away, brought my hand to my face, for a moment still disoriented--lost in my own senses. "I'm sorry," I said, "I'm sorry; ich muss jetzt gehen." Several excuses came to mind too easily, and I laid them out and in too quick succession. I turned before he could register my words and began down the path.

"Jennie," he called after me, a name which was a close approximation of me but which I now knew wasn't me. I turned to face him, already a different person from the girl he'd met a few hours before--the 'Jennie' who had come to him searching for something he couldn't give me. "Jennie," he said again, and I saw in his eyes a version of myself. He wanted to show me the city, he said, and I pictured for a moment his version of the city. I had spent years creating versions of myself, envisioning the world through other people's eyes. But now I had made it all the way across the Atlantic alone. I couldn't afford to choose blindness now, no matter how romantic someone else's vision. A version of myself would always be easier than figuring out the whole on my own, but it would also always be a poor substitute for what else I might find along the way.

I looked back at the man who had led me down this path, promised to meet him the next morning back behind the restaurant--a small transgression I haven't forgotten. I knew then I wouldn't see him again, except, perhaps, for the next evening, when I'd catch his eye from across the street from the restaurant where he'd stand greeting guests. We'd nod and smile at one another, or so I'd like to think, and I'd continue on alone, seeing the world, as I had to, through my own eyes.

Reconstruction, Museumsinsel

Thomas Hoepker exhibit I stumbled onto and where I spent most of my 23rd birthday.
Beautiful gallery, exquisite photojournalist.

Twenty-three, self-portrait.

The view from inside.

Brandenburger Tor

Late-night view of Berliner Mauerweg, near the Reichstag building

Backtracking

September 2007: I walked through the narrow stone pathways of the shuk, an unfortunately obvious tourist, my eyes wide to a culture so unfamiliar--a challenge as of yet unexamined, a small entrance into a life completely outside my own. The gritty stone architecture, the winding alleys leading to the Via Dolorosa, brought to mind vivid biblical imagery from mornings spent in Sunday School years ago. Funny how the only comparison I could find to the culture around me came from stories I'd heard as a child. I had no other access to this place, these people so unlike the Israeli images in the U.S. news. Eager shopkeepers brought us in, offered cold water and proud tours of their wares. Children ran through the streets alongside nuns and tourists, young women in jilbab and old men standing in shaded doorways.

Moving easily among the four quarters of the city, I noticed not only the striking differences in the smells, sights, and sounds of each distinct cultural enclave, but also the harmonious way in which the boundaries collided, crossed, blurred, and overlapped with one another. Inside the walls of the shuk, four divergent cultures converged and coexisted, worked around each other and even in conjunction with one another.

Our trip was short, certainly not long enough for me to see the country with the eyes of anything more than a tourist, but it still took us far into the corners of this tiny nation we'd come to visit. In the north, the Roman ruins and the impossibly blue sea dominate the landscape. A trip down into the underground sea caverns at the north border could be a beautiful Mediterranean vacation stop until you emerge to the sight of the Lebanese border, a brief reminder that this place is haunted by the ever-vigilant ghosts of war. A trip through Haifa is a balmy afternoon drive until a collapsed roof unavoidably conjures the possibility that it wasn't simply a tree that fell on this house, but rather, a bomb. Reminders of war temper the beauty of the land, never far from consciousness, never long forgotten or overlooked.

On the way south, the reminders become more overt, intentionally unmistakable. As we drove through Bedouin territory with the sides of the road lined with the temporary settlements of traditional Arabic nomads, red signs began to dot the landscape, their white writing warning travelers in three languages not to enter the militarized zone beyond the roadside. Soldiers manned a large weapon tracking cars and buses, tourists and locals, passing through a border check on the road to the Dead Sea. Everywhere, it seemed, small reality checks kept us reigned in, aware of the truth which lay just beyond the towering red rock peaks.

Israel is a small country, too compact to hide its political skeletons, too close to its war to separate itself from the struggle. But there is something to be taken away from all this proximity, from the difficult history and convergence of cultures that make up this mish-mash of people. I won't venture to draw a conclusion on what it all means, but as I traveled from my own 'war-torn' country into theirs, I couldn't help but wonder which of us had a better chance at peace in the long run. I couldn't help but know that this was a place which would stick with me for a long time to come.

Early morning, Jerusalem shuk

Shopkeeper, Armenian Quarter

A Station of the Cross

Jilbab seen through entrance to a station of the cross

Rooftop View, City of Jerusalem

Western Wall, photographed from above

Small boy running, Muslim Quarter

Shopkeeper shows off his rugs, Muslim Quarter

Traditional veil

Christ's tomb

Invited for a quick rest and tour of shop, Armenian Quarter

On the way north towards Haifa

Arabic Market in the north, towards Lebanese border

Excavated Roman ruins

Southern Israel, near Dead Sea. Red warning signs demarcate the border of the militarized zone.

Temporary Bedouin settlement along roadside