The Hard Work of Living in a Developing Country- Pt. 2

I believe I left off with our family just having purchased a home. Little did we know the owner was a deceitful, former Communist Party Boss who had bilked the neighbors out of much of their land by throwing up a fence in the middle of the night-literally. That same land would be taken from us much in the same way- stupid we were. 

But that’s getting ahead of myself… the topic here is the hard work of living overseas, right?

Our home was literally an 80 year old, mud brick structure with a plywood room on one side added on. It had one spigot of running water, an ancient, dangerous electrical system, a heating system of radiators piped with hot water from the city heating plant, no phone, no internet, and no septic (toilet). It was November when we moved in, so the cold weather had already set in. Cold weather to most, except those maybe in Northern Canada, might think cold is in the 30s. Cold to us meant something more in the teens to well below zero for several weeks at a time. Remember, I just told you there was no indoor plumbing. It is hard work to muster the courage to go outside several times a day, or worse take the little ones outside several times a day to visit the loo. More than once we lost a shoe, the roll of paper, or at times the book we’d be “using” pages from. Ironically, the owner had left behind an entire volume set of Lennin’s writings with which to “use”. How fitting. 


Let’s talk sleeping. Our bed had to be made to order, and it was hard work: #1- finding a furniture maker who could make a bed; #2- using our extremely limited language to describe to the maker what we wanted; #3- finding a truck to deliver the bed (preferably a driver who would not steal the bed or be drunk when delivering it); and #4 sleeping on a 4 inch piece of foam for 10 years. The kids didn’t have beds until well into our 5th year overseas. Beds worth buying just weren’t available until then, and frankly, there were other things more important to spend the money on. Like plumbing.

Eventually spring came. By now I was expecting Blessing #5…. Yeah, 5 months of using an outhouse. Pregnant. It was hard work. As was trying to stay warm in an unheated plywood shack cooking meals with one spigot… and a bathtub sharing the kitchen. At the end of April it was time for myself and 2 kids to endure the hard work of moving to Thailand for a few months for the impending delivery of our daughter. Being away from each other and having our family ripped apart during those stressful months, and for the end of a pregnancy that we thought would result in another preemie, was not easy. In general, overseas workers don’t freely talk about the more difficult things they have to go through for fear of looking weak, looking like they are whiners, appearing as if they are trying to garner sympathy, but it is time to finally tell our story- if you know and love an overseas worker, they need your prayers, and they need to be invited to share their story freely. 

So, was it more hard work raising an infant and 4 other young ones overseas? If you guessed “Yes”, you are right, and I’ll share some more “hard work” stories next time. Until then, pray for someone you know living overseas.