Flights 1-4 Photos!

Wide Awake & the Song of the Zebu/Cebu

There have been MANY technical difficulties and I am NOT a tech gal.. Praying this posts to share what God's up to here.

August 29th

We landed, phew! Only one more flight to go! Four out of five flights were complete! Dustin and I were in AFRICA! I was more than ready to get to the ship. Dustin was more relieved to be off of planes for a few hours and thankful Mercy Ships was providing us with a hotel on the layover and we would not be spending 24 hours in the airport. Camping is one of our favorite pastimes, but not “airport camping.” Which we had the pleasure of doing in the Seychelle Islands for 8 hours on our layover when we were refused entry into the country; even though we had already paid for and had multiple email and Whatsapp notifications of approved visas. The water looked pristine in its aqua colors, but only observed by us during landing and takeoff. Oh, well. God must have had some reason he wanted us to “airport camp” for that layover.

I was prepared to be smacked in the face with overwhelming heat and humidity upon landing in Antananarivo, Madagascar. Just as I experienced landing in Monrovia, Liberia in 2008, the heat in that country felt like it had physical hands and oppressed me for my entire 8 month stay there. What a refreshing relief for my body to be met with a lovely breeze and cool air. Madagascar, being situated in the Indian Ocean, below the equator, means I have landed during their “spring” season and we are heading into summer. I am assured the heat will come, but for today, I am thankful for cooler weather. 

We made our way to the hotel Mercy Ships provided for us on the 24 hour layover before catching our 5th and final flight to the ship. Our driver zipped and weaved the very familiar, white, Mercy Ship’s Land Rover around corners, potholes, and people. We arrived at our lovely hotel and were given an allotment of money for meals in the hotel restaurant. Dustin and I lugged the luggage that had arrived --one bag was missing in action--into our hotel room, and ventured to the restaurant for a “real meal” versus the airplane food we had eaten for almost three days. Please note we were not ungrateful for the food we had on the airplane, when many in the world do not have food, just extra thankful to sit at a table to eat a meal. 

We perused the menu and I did my best to decipher the options. There was a mix between English and French words in the menu. Potentially a few Malagasy words mixed in, but I am not certain. We could have octopus ceviche and pickles, seafood pot pie, crispy goat cheese with cashew nuts, honey, and thyme sauce, roasted bone marrow with fleur de sel and grilled bread, the fish of the day, and a variety of other dishes. We turned the page and Dustin’s face lit up to find the page with pizza options. There was pizza with duck, seafood pizza, margherita pizza, options for pork or chicken ham. I laughed wondering what the heck chicken ham was. I don’t laugh out of disrespect; I just love the uniqueness of the world and seeing new things. Not so sure, this picky Kansas/Idaho girl likes to “taste” new things, but I am entertained with new things. There was an option for pickles on the pizza and then I giggled with glee to see Zebu as an option on the menu. Dustin settled for the meat pizza, without the zebu or duck, and asked to hold the pickles. I settled for the margherita pizza, keeping it safe with cheese and tomato sauce. 

I settled into bed extremely early and was thrilled to be comfortable with the temperature in the hotel room. I was not going to need to pull out some of my “missionary” tips and tricks to deal with the heat to finally be able to fall asleep.  I know the fastest way to beat jet leg is to stay awake until a “reasonable” bed time in the country you have landed in, to adjust to the time zone changes quicker, but I did not care. I needed bed!

At 3:30am, I was wide awake and my mind was singing loudly, “Cebu! (Cebu!) Cebu! (Cebu!) Achoo moo  moo, achoo moo moo, achoo moo moo, moo moo!”  Thanks Joel Stark, my youth pastor, when I was younger, for introducing us to “Veggie Tales” and therefore, the “Song of the Cebu”. The song came out in 1998 and here I am in 2025, singing it at 3:30am! So, what else would I do now at 4:00am in Madagascar, but use the hotel’s Wi-Fi to Google if a Zebu and a Cebu are the same thing. They sure are! A Zebu is a type of cow with a fatty hump found in Africa and Asia. I giggled again. 

Dustin had stayed up much longer than I had and was snoring away next to me. It was surreal to be back in Africa and not sweating to death! I thought of our lovely dinner and grabbed my leftover cheese pizza from across the room. Dustin stirred next to me wondering what I was doing. I was wide awake and stood up on the bed singing the Cebu song and ate some leftover pizza! I smiled ear to ear. I was excited to be on this new adventure and with my best friend, husband.

 

Wednesday, August 27, 2025

“Today is the day,” a dear friend of mine texted me early in the morning on August 27th. I texted her back and said, “Thank you! Thank you for praying! I don’t feel like going to Africa today.” She texted back, “That’s the best quote ever!”

I moaned. I wasn’t joking. It was daunting, exciting, terrifying, and terrific, all at the same time. I was REALLY in the car, on my way to the Boise, Idaho airport headed back to volunteer as a nurse with Mercy Ships. I was on my way to the Africa Mercy, the very ship I had lived on previously for 5 years. I was headed to the country of Madagascar!

I reflected on the fact that I was not 26 years old anymore, the age I was when I first ventured to Mercy Ships and served eight months in Monrovia, Liberia to “test” out the waters as a missionary nurse, before I sold everything I owned in New Hampshire and volunteered with Mercy Ships for five years. Things felt different. I am only 12 years older than when I was last in Africa, but for some reason my body does not tolerate trips around the world as much anymore.

I was dreading the four days of travel ahead:               

A two and half hour drive from Twin Falls, Idaho to the Boise airport…

Boise to Seattle, a one hour flight.

A five hour layover in Seattle…

Seattle to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, a 14 hour 40 minute flight... My mind wanted to panic at the thought of being trapped on an airplane that long. The longest I’d ever been on one plane before was a 15-16 hour flight to Australia.  

An eight hour layover in Dubai…My mind replayed too many negative cultural stereotypes about terrible things that could happen in that country, out of its proximity to “hot zones” in the world.

Dubai to the Seychelle Islands, a four hour and 35 minute flight…

An eight hour layover in the Seychelles.

Seychelle Islands to Antanarivo, the capital of Madagascar, a two hour and 45 minute flight..

A 24 hour layover in Antanarivo…

The last hour flight to Tamatave, Madagascar…

Then the FINAL 20 minute drive to the Indian Ocean where the ship is ported…

It was exhausting thinking about it.

I remembered how disoriented and sick I felt just traveling 24-36 hours between Liberia and the USA in 2008; Benin and the USA in 2009; Boliva/Chile in 2010 and the USA; London, England and the USA in 2010; Sierra Leone and the USA in 2011; Togo and the USA in 2012; Guinea and the USA in 2013; and finally the Republic of the Congo and the USA in 2013. Yet, at the same time, I was SO thankful for how LONG it took me to get “home” as it helped me somehow process a small portion of ALL I had seen and been through, versus my friends who landed in Europe after the 8-9 hour flights from Africa and had an hour train ride and they were home. But, how in the world, was I going to tolerate the trip ahead?

My parents graciously listened to me expressing my cacophony of emotions. I thanked them for not being cheeky and saying, “Well, you don’t have to go to Africa today; you won’t be there for 3 days anyway!”

I have always loved to travel and enjoyed every travel experience I have been gifted to have. Well, once I get there and my experiences with anxiety don’t get the better of me and after I complete the overwhelming job of packing. I am not a fan of packing. My soul was conflicted and disgusted with myself noting I couldn’t decide which pair of shoes to pack. “Geesh, Laura, I thought to myself,” remember those people you know by name in Africa, that don’t even own one pair of shoes.”

“Should I bring my orange, pink, teal, yellow, and black glasses frames? Oh, maybe the purple, too,” I contemplated.  “What the heck is your problem, Laura?” I said to myself. “Remember all the patients you cared for that have never had access to one eye doctor, or were once blind and now see because of groups like Mercy Ships?”

I tried on different skirts and shorts that were long enough for cultural sensitive standards where my “KNEE-ipples or KNEE-eavage” wasn’t going to show, pronounced just like nipples or cleavage, but replacing the “n” with the word “knee”.  The term we coined when in Africa years ago, noting sensitive areas of the body differ per culture. Breasts supply nutrition, so it was not uncommon to see topless women in the market, or town. Yet, the knees were sensitive areas and not to be shown.  I was frustrated that I have gained weight, thanks perimenopause, and a number of my clothing items don’t fit anymore. Yet, then I was reminded, what a gift it is to have clothing and more than one item of clothing to choose from. And to have food, in abundance. Then I was mad at myself and my entitled country for the diseases we have that are caused by obesity, yet at the same time discouraged at the despair and suffering many have related to diseases of poverty, starvation, and lack of access to clean water. No wonder I was already exhausted before starting the epic journey across the world to Madagascar. I already had whiplash, just trying to pack four suitcases.

My friends had asked, “Are you ready, are you excited for your trip?” I felt a little numb, it’s been hard to even formulate what emotions I was feeling or am feeling. It was “different” this time. Serving as a missionary nurse was all my heart beat for in the past. I felt incomplete if I was not in Africa. God had to heal me, take me deeper, and redefine my identity in Him, when I had left Africa and it appeared I would never go back. I have honestly been content, comfortable, and no longer pined for Africa. I was happily married, had fulfillment in my nursing jobs, and had found a place to serve God in my church. I didn’t NEED to go to Africa. Yet, God had opened the doors to take my sweet husband, Dustin, and me there. We were willing. We felt God was calling us to go. I don’t ever want to step where God has not directed. I don’t ever want to be content and, too, comfortable. So, sometimes that means going where you may not “want to” on a certain day or time. Yet, with God’s loving care and providential hand, he took us the extra LONG way to Africa. Those 3 days of travel before landing at our first location in Africa, sure gave me a different perspective. I may not have wanted to go to Africa on August 27^th, but by August 30^th when we landed in Africa I was sure READY to be there.