Long story short... I'm being emergency transferred. No, there's no
scandalous story behind it. There are a lot of Brasilians who serve mini
missions of a few weeks to a few months and one of them finished hers in Jequié,
about 10 hours South of Salvador. Another mini-mission-er is beginning her
mission and she's going to train with Sister V. Silva. And so... tomorrow night
I'm taking a bus (all by myself) 10 hours to Vitoria da Conquista, where there
will be a Zone Conference, and from there I'll take another bus (the next day,
think) to Jequié. And who will be my new companion} (that's a question mark,
because I can't figure out how to use it on this computer).... Sister Ellis. An
American!!! Say what}} Just when it's so important for my Português to improve--
right before I start training new missionaries! I'm just trusting that the Lord
is in charge and that somehow it will be a good thing for me to work with an
American. Who'd have thought I'd ever be nervous to work with someone who speaks
English}
I almost didn't get to email today. It's Carnival time here in Brasil
and Salvador is Brasil's party capitol, so Carnival is super strong here. People
in the CTM were certain I would have to stay inside during the week of Carnlval,
but no. It's so strong here that everyone goes to the beach to celebrate and
here in Mussurunga NO ONE is left. It's a ghost town. The most exciting thing
I've seen in two days is a cockroach chasing a lizard (yes you read that
correctly. Weird). My legs were extremely sore yesterday from trying a new
workout routine and I was walking like a cowboy. That, coupled with the empty
streets and dead silence where normally there is booming music, made me feel
like I was in an old western film and Sister V. Silva and I practiced our best
cowboy hootin' and hollerin'.
Today everything is closed. Yesterday only a lot of things were closed.
Today it's everything. That includes all the internet houses. So we got special
permission to use computers in a member's home. We're lucky. If I ever don't
email one week, it's not because I died. It's because there's a party going on
and everything is closed. Just remember that.
In other news, my fiance readjusted the wooden leg of his turtle, so
now it's shorter and makes a loud thumping sound as the little guy hobbled
around. We can hear it all the way up in our apartment. This thumping inspired
my very own version of "The Highwayman", to be read Anne of Green
Gables-style:
The moon was a ghostly lantern
Hanging o'er the trees.
My hair was a sweaty rat's nest
Tustled by the breeze.
And the turtle's leg was thumping,
Thumping, thumping!
The turtle's leg was thumping
As I fumbled for my keys.
"Hurry, Sister Whitaker,"
My companion did implore.
"I'm tired and I'm hungry
And my feet are oh, so sore."
Digging 'round the pamphlets,
The books and hand-out-cards,
Had the depths of my black bulsa
Turned from inches into yards}
"I'm hungry too," I said aloud,
"And my feet are also sore.
"Don't fret, my dear companion,
"The keys are here, I'm sure..."
Then we heard the old man hacking,
Hacking, hacking!
We heard the old man hacking
From the house next door.
"Good evening, my buneca,"
We heard old Carlos say.
My key-hunt became more urgent
As I waved and said, "Oh, hey!"
Sister Silva, too, began to search
The pockets of her pouch
When she saw old Carlos rise
From the comfort of his couch.
"A word, my bonny sweatheart}
"I've waited here all day."
He'd looked for me by moonlight,
He'd watched for me by moonlight
To come to him by moonlight.
He knew we'd pass this way.
My companion jumped like a madman,
Raising her voice to the sky:
"I have the keys, afterall!"
And she raised the chaves high.
Snow white were the tiles of our apartment.
Beet red was the face of old Carlos
As he stood on his porch in the moonlight,
Stood like a dog in the moonlight,
And he spat at the ground in the moonlight
With a bunch of white hairs at his throat.
Applause!
I love you all!!!!
Sister Weezer
I just love your poetry!
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