On Being a Honey Badger

“Honey badger don’t care. He just takes what he wants.” –crude (but hilarious) youtube video

Since moving to Africa, I’ve learned a lot about honey badgers. Yes, my first exposure was through the above mentioned video. If you have delicate sensibilities when it comes to profanity, don’t watch it. Otherwise, you’ve probably already seen it since it has a bajillion views on youtube. Anyway, I also learned about honey badgers in depth while on safari with my parents in Kenya. The manager of the lodge we were staying at had worked as a guide in Kruger National Park, in South Africa, and had come across a lot of honey badgers in her time. We had a lively and entertaining conversation (perhaps sprinkled with a few expletives—honey badgers seem to bring it out in people) about this amazing animal.

According to the fabulous internet source of wikipedia, honey badgers are “notorious for their strength, ferocity, and toughness.” They are “virtually tireless in combat and can wear out much larger animals in physical confrontations” and “Bee stings, porcupine quills, and animal bites rarely penetrate their skin.” These little weasel-like animals truly aren’t afraid of anything and seem impossible to be intimidate—taking down lions, buffalo, or cattle.

I’ll admit that I’ve been called a honey badger by more than one person. It’s usually in reference to my direct, no holds barred speech. Or when they’re surprised by my feistiness—how could someone so small and cute also be so scrappy?

There are times when my honey-badger-nature should probably be toned down a bit—when I ought to filter my thoughts that turn into words. But being feisty has come in handy way more than I ever thought it would on the mission field. Paired with my passion for social justice and “getting it done”, I’ve pushed through some decent-sized walls, especially since it seems everything is more complicated here.
An example: our severe acute malnutrition ward at the health center uses a special highly caloric milk formula called F100 to help these babies gain weight. It is supplied by Unicef and our stock began running low months ago. Alisha, our fabulous dietician, had filled out all the reports needed in order for Unicef to supply more—they were back-logged all the way from January 2012! And yet, after turning in the reports, no F100 was delivered. Yesterday the stock officially ran out. What to do? Without the milk, the 20 babies currently admitted would clearly suffer.

As Alisha told me about the dilemma, honey badger kicked in. The phrase my mom has often said to me popped into my head “Put on your big girl panties and deal with it!”. Ha! So I began a crusade for F100. I started calling around—starting with contacts at our health center, then moving on to contacts at a hospital about 20 minutes away. After about 10 phone calls over several hours today, going to Bundibugyo Town, and arriving at the hospital, we found the store room locked. Time to give up? Never! Find a man who looks important, chat with him, invited into his office while he calls yet another person. That person arrives, gets the keys, and bingo! F100—10 boxes plus 6 boxes of other supplies for severely malnourished kids. We’ve now got phone numbers and an open invitation to come get more anytime—amazing!

I certainly don’t credit myself alone for today’s success. God coordinated it so that the right people would be there when we arrived. Josh drove his truck so we could load it all in. Many helpful people gave me phone numbers along the way. Alisha filled out months and months worth of paperwork to make sure we could get it.

I am thankful for my honey badger moments. There have certainly been times here when the stress, the astronomical size of problems, and cross-cultural exhaustion have weighed me down, leading me to be apathetic and fatalistic. Sometimes it just seems easier to give up. But then the Holy Spirit gives me a boost of honey-badger-goodness, giving me the stamina to fight for what is true, just, and necessary.

Missions is not for the faint of heart. If you aren’t willing to put on your big girl panties and find a way, Bundibugyo is not the place for you. But God knew when he was making me that a dash of honey badger in the personality would help with my future calling. And I hope that even after leaving this place, I will be willing to put myself in hard situations with no known answer, to forge ahead, to be forced onto my knees, and to be blessed by advocating for those in need.

On the Eternal View

“Most days I feel like I’m banging my head against the wall.”

I can’t be sure what people envision when they hear “I’m a missionary in Africa”. I feel like the statement conjures up images of safari animals, red dusty roads, black babies with swollen bellies, maybe even pith helmets bobbing along in the jungle. And I have experienced all of that in my time in Uganda—well, pith helmets have been notably absent.

We joke here about the glamour Americans associate with “saving babies in Africa”. And I myself was quite guilty of envisioning an air-brushed version of what life would look like here. And yet, recently, as I’ve been spending some time attempting to process the last 2 1/2 years, I’ve been overloaded by the total lack of glamour that characterizes them. Most days have been spent sweaty, culturally confused, emotionally exhausted, and not entirely sure of exactly what it is that I’m doing here. I’ve found myself saying the initial phrase at the top of this post entirely too many times. Seemingly one step forward and two steps back, whether in language learning, cultural understanding, giving grace, relationship building, community development, advocacy or whatever.

And yet I hang on that word seemingly. Because I don’t really know how the last 30 months have trickled into eternity. In our women’s Bible study this week we talked about Abraham and how he had to wait for God’s promises to be fulfilled. And how some of those promises were not even completely fulfilled until Jesus came. And how some won’t be checked off the list until Jesus returns to make all things new. Meanwhile, I’ve been listening to the sermon series from my home church about Ecclesiastes—how everything this world has to offer is meaningless. And I’ve been re-reading the book “Broken Down House” which has reminded me of the brokenness of this world and the importance of having an eternal perspective.

It seems that God really wants me to get it through my thick head that even if I don’t get to reap tangible rewards right now, he is calling me to the eternal view. The one that makes missing holidays and birthdays with family worthwhile. The one that values muddling through the daily confusions of living cross-culturally. The one that provides hope in desperate situations.

I’ve had plenty of “i-oughta-pinch-myself-i-can’t-believe-i’m-in-africa” moments here. I’ve had lots of moments of joy and laughter. And I trust that some of the things I’ve done will benefit someone. But even without those things, I am looking forward to the day that it all makes sense, when the eternal plan is rolled out and we see how God used moments we never would have guessed were noteworthy.