December 1992

Dear everyone,

In last year's Christmas note, we were still in Ouagadougou, putting the finishing touches on a new school and wondering what we would be doing in 1992-93.  By the end of the school year, we were incredibly fulfilled, but exhausted from four years in a difficult and unhealthy post.  We had completed the school on time and within budget,  enjoyed six months in a beautiful new work environment, traveled to Nairobi for one last look at paradise, and made peace with the realization that it was time to come home.  In June, we bid adieu to our friends, our many memories, and our last case of diarrhea, heading for our home in Columbia, South Carolina.  Our task was to recuperate, renew our energies, and finally finish the Ph.D. that I had been working on for so many years.

I am happy to report that we have completed all our tasks.  I plunged into my dissertation research with vigor, crunched the data, and whipped off the written portion in a matter of weeks.  With the help of a thoroughly committed advisor, a reasonable committee, and a supportive spouse, I became Doctor Kenny at the end of October.  In between spurts of creativity on the computer, Sharon organized travel adventures for us to the shore of New Jersey, to Cancun, Mexico, where we pretended that we were nouveau riche and infamous, and to the mountains of the Carolinas, resplendent in their fall foliage.  We strolled the beaches of Sanibel Island on the Gulf of Mexico, finding exotic birdlife and shells in numbers that made the national debt look trivial, and we explored the Spanish moss draped paths of St. Simon's Island in Georgia, soaked in colonial American history.  We are now rested, relaxed, and ready to go.

Where?  Back to Africa, of course!  By the time you read this, Sharon and I will be on the way to our latest post -- Kinshasa, Zaire.  We will be working at the American School of Kinshasa (known as TASOK).  I will be secondary principal/counselor, and Sharon will hold some form of hyphenated job that neither we nor the school have quite figured out yet, but that's part of what makes it an adventure.

Zaire, of course, is the old Belgian Congo, a country in which Tarzan could find a comfortable home swinging in the rain forest.  It is located in Central Africa and was explored largely by Stanley in the late 1800s after finding "Dr. Livingstone, I presume" alive and well.  We are told that pygmies still inhabit the forests, and troops of gorillas roam furtively on the slopes of the eastern mountains.  This will be an entirely new experience for us after having previously lived in Hemingway country (Kenya) and nobody's country (Burkina Faso).  Zaire, in contrast, is wet, tropical, hot, steamy, heavily populated (at least around the capital), unpredictable, and exciting, but since we haven't been there yet, we can't really comment too much on what we will find.  We hope it will be pleasant.

We will live on the campus of the school, an institution built for some 600 students, but which now caters to about 200 due to civil disturbances last year.  The country has massive problems, including a huge foreign debt and rampant corruption, and there is no guarantee that it will remain peaceful while we are there, but we will be "relatively" isolated on the walled campus should things turn messy again.  We are hoping that this new posting will allow us to explore not only Central Africa, but also the emerging nations of Namibia and Botswana, as well as Zimbabwe and South Africa.

We will spend our last month (December) in the U.S., organizing ourselves for our newest adventure and relaxing with family on a one week cruise in the Caribbean.  Next summer, we may return to the U.S., do some shopping, and then find a creative way to celebrate our 25th (!) wedding anniversary.  Until then, Merry Christmas, love to you all, and hope to hear from you.  Our address as of January 1, 1993 is:

Sharon and Ken Vogel - T
AmEmbassy - Kinshasa
Unit 31550
APO AE 09828

December 1991

Dear folks and friends,

Yes, we're still in Ouagadougou, but this is our last year.  To make sure of that, we resigned our jobs last May, effective June 1992.  Four years in "paradise" is quite enough, thank you.  Actually, we have enjoyed our time here more than not, and we're sure that our remembrance of the place will be very fond indeed, once we get the dust out of our lungs, the amoebas out of our bowels, and lose the weight that we have gained from vegging out in front of the video every night.

The best thing about our stay here has been the jobs.  I've been very happy as a school director, and I've been able to accomplish just about all the goals that I set when we first came.  The most ambitious was the construction of an entirely new school, something which will become a reality by the time you read this.  To be able to plan a full educational facility from scratch and then see it through to its completion is a wonderful opportunity for anyone, and I've been lucky to do it here.  I've also been very active in the Association of International Schools in Africa (AISA) and have recently assumed its presidency.  And I'm just short of getting my PhD, with only my dissertation to complete (hopefully, this summer).

Sharon has also been able to expand her career in several new directions while in Ouagadougou.  She has gotten into administration (she doesn't care for it) as the primary principal, she wrote a manual on library management that is being used in many small international schools on this continent, she has been in demand as a consultant to other international schools, and she has been able to have her own class of students as an elementary teacher rather than as a specialist, something which she always thought she would enjoy (she does).

Although we have lived in relative isolation here, we have managed to travel quite a bit over the years, including many trips to the States, two trips to Kenya, one to Lesotho, several to neighboring West African countries, and our first trip to the Caribbean this past summer.  We notice that, as we get older, we are beginning to slow down when it comes to travel and that the comfort level that we require has risen quite a bit.  Trips which we would formerly have taken have just seemed like too much of a hassle or too dangerous.  What a bunch of old fogies we are!  We even spend time (and money) planning for retirement!

In February, we will travel to the States for the annual administrator conference and recruiting fairs, and we'll try to rustle up some jobs for ourselves.  We haven't a clue where we will be next year, which is both exhilarating and frightening at the same time.  We are open to just about anywhere, but, please, not another Ouagadougou!  We've paid our dues!!!!!  Actually, we like Third World living (and the perks that come with it) and wouldn't mind a similar post, but perhaps a bit more "upscale."

In March, we will be in Lome, Togo for another teacher conference, and in April, we will go to Nairobi once again, this time for a meeting of the AISA board.  Since the trip coincides with our Easter vacation, we'll get in a little safari time as well.  We still think that Kenya is the best tourist place we've ever been, so we love it whenever we can get the chance to return.

No matter what happens in the job market, however, we will be home in South Carolina this summer for at least a few weeks.  We have enjoyed having our apartment on Lake Murray as a refuge during our winter and summer trips to the States, and we even purchased another one last year which is closer to the water.  It's rented out now, but we may just move into it when we retire in the year 2001.

And on that old fogey note, I will close this Christmas letter with our love and best wishes of this holiday season.

December 1990

Dear friends and loved ones,

In June of 1970, Sharon and I quit our jobs and left New Jersey for the first time to go to the University of Hawaii for graduate study.  That simple but momentous decision started us on the road to a new and, we feel, exciting life of travel and experience which we are still enjoying to this day.  Now, 20 years, many grey hairs and 5 graduate degrees later, we find ourselves in our third year in Burkina Faso, surely the most challenging environment in which we have had to live and work.

The past 20 years have been very good to us.  Through having attended graduate school in Hawaii, South Carolina, Athens and Mallorca, we have managed to keep our careers in education on track, although we did make a few detours (insect research, renting cars, etc.) to keep us in tuna sandwiches when adventure but no jobs called.  Ken is now the director of a small school, and Sharon is the principal of the primary grades in the same institution.  Happily, we have been able to work together for 11 of the past 20 years.  Sharing responsibilities, triumphs and disappointments (disasters?) has been of enormous importance to us.

Moreover, we have been able to enrich our lives with an array of experiences that we never thought possible when we were living in NJ so many years ago.  Without sacrificing our careers or financial security, we have been fortunate enough to peer into the bowels of a live volcano in Hawaii and watch glaciers calving in New Zealand.  We have felt the earth tremble under our feet at Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe and touched snow on the Equator while climbing Mount Kenya.  We have hiked on the Matterhorn in Switzerland and strolled among the Grand Tetons in Wyoming.  We have cruised the Nile, sipped cocktails at sunset on the Zambezi, and sailed to Rarotonga and Suvorov in the South Pacific.  We have SCUBA dived among sunken warships in Truk Lagoon, frolicked with dolphins in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, and driven our small boat through pods of humpback whales playing in the Lahaina Roads off Maui.

We have been able to celebrate Carnival in Rio and Bastille Day in Papeete.  We have seen first hand the great monuments of Western civilization, such as the Parthenon, the Coliseum and the pyramids of Giza, and also witnessed the incomparable natural spectacle of the wildebeest migration on the Serengeti plain and walked among the million pink flamingoes of Lake Nakuru.

We have taken the low road, the high road and seemingly every road in between -- from camping in a flooded tent, to crashing in a fleabag hotel in Tahiti, to luxuriating in the posh suites of the Mount Kenya Safari Club.  We have had elephants chase us away from our picnic lunch, we've quaked at the roaring of lions outside our tent, and we've been startled by sharks circling us just at the edge of our view.  We have been arrested by greedy border guards in Tanzania and terrorized during 22 hours of captivity.  Healthwise, we have suffered through malaria, pneumonia, bronchitis, appendicitis, food poisoning and enough forms of intestinal parasites to keep a lab working overtime.  As you can see, it has not all been a picnic!

Through sickness and in health, however, we have not regretted the time nor money spent, and each time that we return to the States, we seem to value our home and the U. S. even more for having been away.  We do not know exactly what the future holds for us.  We do know that our contracts say we will be here until June 1992, and then we will most likely leave for another part of this continent or to another continent entirely.  Or, if trouble should erupt here, maybe we'll be back in the States sooner than we thought!  We have learned to live with uncertainty and insecurity -- something which is both unnerving and invigorating.

Until next Christmas season, we wish you all a glorious holiday and a super New Year filled with challenges and good cheer.

December 1989 -- Ouagadougou Daze

Rain...

August in Ouagadougou is a time of violence.   Each day begins heavily, often without a hint of a breeze.  The air, sodden with humidity, lies languorously over the earth, making the very act of breathing a chore and nurturing vegetation on the furniture and in one's closets.

As the afternoon heat builds, and the sweat continues to drip, one knows that -- like the inevitability of living on the San Andreas fault -- something has to break.

And then the wind begins.  Rushing in with the arrogance and velocity of a high speed train, it whips up the refuse and dust from the street in great swirls of brownish red putrefaction, until the sun disappears from the sky and day becomes night.

When the rain finally hits, accompanied by great bolts of lightening and booming thunder, it attacks the earth ferociously, beating a frenzied rhythm on the tin roof and ripping the very leaves from the trees.  For us, it is amusement, but for the Africans, it is both a blessing and a disaster.

Without this water, there can be no life, for the country's millet crop is dependent on the annual rains.  But the outsized raindrops also tear at the mudbrick houses, literally melting them before their owners' eyes, and the streambeds -- normally dry gulches of hardened earth -- become the conduits for raging torrents that carve the land mercilessly, plundering its fertility.

In this part of Africa, life does not come easy, and the gods are unforgiving.

Heat...

The dog days of April in Ouaga are like a foretaste of hell.  The sun burns in the sky with an unrelenting intensity, bringing soaring temperatures that seer both the earth and one's soul.

We drive to the reservoir just outside of town to see what the depredations of six months without rain have wrought upon the city's principal water supply.  The air passing through the window feels like a blast from a blow-dryer.  Our eyeballs become parched -- even our armpits have dandruff.

The reservoir is depleted.  Where once there was a lake robust enough to service a fleet of Hobie Cats, there is now a mudhole.  The doctors issue warnings -- cholera, typhoid, and loathsome diseases that used to ravage Medieval Europe now flourish in our water supply.

We return home with heat induced headaches.  The thermometer on our veranda begs for mercy.  Our bodies cry out for liquid.

Pass me a beer.  Ahhhhhhh. Burp.

and Dust...

The earth in and around Ouagadougou seems as though it had been put through a supermarket coffee grinder placed on "dust" setting.  A few weeks after the rains stop, the dust is everywhere -- seeping through the cracks in windows, settling on the floors and furniture, and even invading the most private recesses of drawers and closets.  During the day, cyclists and house guards can be seen wearing surgical masks to avoid inhaling the air.  It is like trying to breathe Coffeemate.

We venture out at night for a walk.  Foolish move.  The dust, wafted up by the cars and reflected by the streetlights, looks like snow.  We taste the grit in our mouths; our teeth begin to grind.

The amber headlights of vehicles transform the night into surreality, a Mars-scape of dark yellows and unearthly orange.  Two pedestrians, backlit by a car weaving its way around potholes, appear as giant holograms reflected on a ghostly screen.  We expect Rod Serling to step out of the shadows at any moment.

"Welcome...to the Twilight Zone."

Magic...

About 400 meters from our house, there is a marketplace that specializes in products that will never make it to the shelves of your local 7-Eleven.

It is a place where religion and magic find an interface, where medicine and superstition come together in a forced and ghastly harmony.

"Step right up, folks.  Need a love potion?  Let's grind up a few lizard tongues, bat wings and dried toads.  Mother-in-law on your back? No problem. Desiccated chameleon and monkey paws taken with a glass of beer will send her packing."

The fetishes are organized and lined up like fish on ice.  Birds of every stripe and color, their heads carefully removed, lie in state next to the cloven hooves of goats and sheep.  Skulls of lizards, monkeys, dogs, cats and other unrecognizable small animals stare at passersby through hollow eyes.

Dried bats, geckos, chameleons -- our own voodoo K-Mart -- and that's just the stuff on display.  We wonder what's hidden in the back room?

"Step right up, folks, we've got just what you're looking for.  And for the ladies..."

Deliverance...

Yimdi is a traditional village of the Mossi tribe, the predominant ethnic group in Burkina Fasso.  It is located about 20 minutes outside of Ouagougou, but in a world totally removed from the amber night lights, boisterous street noise, and urban squalor of the city.

For as long as the people of Yimdi can remember, they have lived in a state of siege during the dry season.  At that time, their shallow, hand-dug wells dry up, and they are forced to march for miles to a neighboring village each day and carry back on their heads only enough water for drinking and cooking.  Washing is out of the question, and their pitiful vegetable gardens are left to wilt and die.

This year, the school completed a project to build the village a permanent water supply.  With money supplied by the Dutch government and various fund raising projects at the school, we managed to dig a well and cap it with a donated hand pump.

The village has now moved from the Stone Age into the 19th century.  It feels good.

Things Fall Apart...

About 4 hours to the south of us lies a relatively unspoiled and beautiful oasis of tranquility.  It is a game ranch, developed by two Canadian brothers who were raised in Burkina by their missionary parents and who have dedicated their lives to the conservation of the country's wildlife while adding to the economic well-being of the locals.

In a country where arable land is scarce, the competition between humans and wildlife can be fierce -- and the animals always lose.  Realizing this, the brothers combined the concepts of game preservation and controlled harvesting to demonstrate to the locals that wild animals can be a source of income and food -- a resource worth preserving.

They bulldozed roads, dammed up streams to create permanent sources of water to attract animals, and hired the poachers as game wardens, paying them to protect the animals instead of kill them.  They built tourist facilities out of local materials, constructed an abattoir to pack the game meat for sale, hired biologists to study the animals' reproductive capacity, and set in motion the beginnings of a safari industry to attract high paying guests from abroad.

Government officials visited the facility, were impressed with what had been accomplished, and saw that it was good.  And so they took it...and kicked the two brothers out.

And so it goes.

We've signed on here until June 1992, or until things fall apart, whichever comes first.  As of this June, our address will be:  01 B.P. 35, Ouagadougou 01, Burkina Faso.  Use international airmail.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

December 1988

Dear everyone,

Well, we've really done it this time!  As you know, we've been in some out of the way places (Lanai, Pago Pago, Zanzibar, etc.) in our time, but Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, is certainly the most remote, most primitive in our experience.  In previous Christmas notes, we have always invited people to visit us, but that pattern will not be repeated here, unless one really has a need to see life on the edge.

With that introduction, let me start at the beginning and bring you up to date with our lives.  Last year, we were in Columbia, SC, with Sharon working at the University and Ken studying full time.  About midway through the year, we realized that we were running out of money, and also that the call of overseas life (after 2 years in the States) was too strong for us to resist any longer.  We were fortunate to find positions at the International School of Ouagadougou on a two year contract, with Ken as the director and Sharon as a teacher and library consultant.  By the end of June, we were off to England for two weeks of vacation -- and rain --and then found ourselves back on the African continent in mid-July.  And so the adventure begins.

Ouagadougou (which is pronounced like something you might step in on the street) is located a bit south of Timbuktu, which I always thought was a mythical place, in the Sahel region of West Africa -- a semi-arid land between the Sahara desert and the humid forests of the coastal plain.  It is the capital of Burkina Faso, formerly Upper Volta -- perhaps the third poorest country in the world and whose principal export is its own people to work in the fields and factories of neighboring countries.

Ouagadougou -- in fact, the whole country -- is a feast for the senses of sight, taste and smell...but it's like being invited to a banquet at a vomitorium.  It is life in the raw -- in its most elemental state -- where grain is ripped from the stalk, pounded, winnowed and ground into food right before your eyes...where one's morning jog is a slalom course around an assortment of potholes, half-starved curs, mangy chickens, wild-eyed guinea fowl and scrofulous vultures, all picking at the garbage lying by the side of the road...and where water, the very source of life, is just as likely to be the cause of unspeakable disease and even death.

To give you an idea of what I mean, let's take a walk to the bakery at the end of our street.  As we pass through the screen doors which separate our Western style house from our wide verandah and walk the short distance to our gate, it is like moving from Middle America into the Twilight Zone.  A bizarre array of characters moves into view -- a Muslim from the North, bearded and swathed in white robes and turban...a rickety donkey cart, laden with bamboo slats, driven by a waif clad in rags...a dust-covered woman, pregnant and totally naked, walking aimlessly, with pendulous breasts swinging to and fro while she mumbles incomprehensively to herself...a Tuareg from the deserts, tall and swarthy, clothed in the indigo robes for which his race is famous, trying to hawk finely worked leather goods...and a gaggle of scrawny children and bawling babies, playing in the filth which lies outside their homes.

As we look to the right, we pass by the U.S. Embassy compound, surrounded by its iron fence and guarded by an array of lethargic local employees who congregate under the trees to escape from the sun...and work.  To the left are broken down homes made of sun-dried, mud bricks, corrugated iron sheets for roofs, offering the barest of shelter for uncountable numbers of people.  At the end of our street is the airport road, a paved thoroughfare which is normally jammed with bicycles, motorbikes, and a few cars weaving their way among the two-wheeled vehicles.  We look into a ditch by the side of the road -- a man is standing in a puddle of blood and gore, wringing the necks of a flock of chickens and disemboweling them on the spot.  We cross the street and are greeted by old beggars, their eyes staring vacantly -- blinded long ago by parasites introduced through the bites of black flies which inhabit the banks of the country's few rivers -- connected to children by short poles which are used to guide them on their morning rounds.  We reach the outside of the bakery, artfully dodging the deformed parking boys and street vendors hawking fly-blown meat and moldy bread, open the door, enter and...we're in Paris.  Long baguettes, light and fluffy croissants, an assortment of sorbets and crème glaces, raison buns, cream doughnuts, café au lait, freshly squeezed orange juice, and wrought iron tables at which one can sit all morning while one reads L'Express or the International Herald Tribune.  Incredible!

At this point, it would not be inappropriate for the reader to ask, "What the hell are you doing there?"  It is a question which sometimes crosses our own minds, but the truth is: Everyday is an adventure!  We never know what each morning will bring, whether at school (which is wonderful, by the way) or at a visit to a local village where we are treated with such hospitality that we weep with shame at our own selfishness.  We work very hard, 7 days a week, sometimes from 5:00 in the morning to 9:00 at night, and we are frequently physically and emotionally drained, but we feel very much ALIVE and excited.  True, we miss the wildlife of Kenya -- the most wildlife one sees here is on the slides of our stool samples at the health unit -- and we are anxious about our health in a country where one's bowels often feel like they've been invaded by ping-pong playing amoebas from hell.  And we certainly miss the serenity and beauty of an afternoon on Lake Murray or a weekend at a country inn on the foothills of the Smokey Mountains.

But those things will still be there when we return, and for now, there are still exotic places to visit and adventures to be had.  We have begun to chalk up new countries on our list of must-see sights:  a visit to Niamey, the capital of Niger, and a week in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, the French West African answer to Honolulu. During the Christmas holidays, we will camp at Nazinga, one of the few wild animal preserves in the country, and perhaps take a ride into the desert.  In April, when the heat becomes so oppressive in Ouaga that even the vultures begin to wilt, we will travel to the humid coast and laze in the shade.  This summer we will be Stateside again for six weeks, and next year we know we will visit Nairobi for a teachers' conference.  Who knows what else lies ahead?  Bamako, Banjul, Dakar -- a whole host of exotic locales.

At any rate, we are very much interested in receiving mail here in the peripheries of civilization, so please write when you have the chance.  We promise to answer all letters as soon as we have a free moment.  Until next time, however, we wish everyone a most Merry Christmas and a New Year filled with only goodness and love.

December 1987

(Editor's Note:  Since we were not able to find a copy of the 1987 Christmas newsletter, we're creating an account of the major events of the year as we remember them.)

Although our Christmas card shows the shoreline of our new home at Yacht Cove in Columbia, SC, we didn't actually move in until around June. Before that we did some more traveling.

In December of 1986, Ken's parents graciously took us (and Ken's brother and sister-in-law) along with them on a cruise to the Bahamas, Mexico, and Puerto Rico. After very enjoyable shore excursions in Nassau, San Juan, and Cancun, we got caught in a big storm on the way back to Florida, even causing us to miss a scheduled stop at a private island. Luckily, we made it back safely. What we hadn't realized at the time, however, was that the same storm also affected the NJ coastline, causing flash flooding in Point Pleasant Beach where Sharon's father and his girlfriend had to be rescued through the window of her car as they were trying to escape from her flooding house.

Then in February, we took two more trips. The first one was to New Orleans, where we attended the annual winter conference of the Association for the Advancement of International Education (AAIE). There we reconnected with many of our former colleagues who were working at American International Schools around the globe.

Our next trip was to Brazil during Carnival in Rio de Janeiro. Although we're glad to have had the opportunity to experience this amazing phenomenon, in actuality, it was a mixed blessing to be sure. First of all, while checking in at the airport, we were told that there were no seats available that would allow us to sit next to each other on the plane. That simple realization, indicating our lack of control over our situation, triggered an attack of post traumatic stress for Sharon, making her relive the trauma we had experienced at the Kenya/Tanzania border the year before, when we had been detained and terrorized by the Tanzanian border officials. In an effort to neutralize the situation, Ken offered a passenger with a seat next to Sharon $200 to switch seats with him -- no dice.  Another passenger, who had the seat next to Ken, heard what was happening and offered to switch seats with Sharon, for no fee at all! What a prince!

While in Rio, we also fell victim to a clever pick-pocket on a bus. Then, after another crazy bus driver almost ran us off a cliff,  we pulled the "stop cord."  Amazingly, he responded to that, and we got off.  However, as Ken would be happy to tell you, it was all worthwhile just to see those topless beauties on Ipanema Beach. Aahhh!

With our planned travel now in the rear view window, we settled into our new home, ready to get down to business -- Ken's doctoral program, plus a job for Sharon (to help pay the bills). After Sharon began work as a school librarian at a local elementary school, however, it soon became obvious that her battle with PTSD was not yet over. Thanks to the assistance of a good counselor at the University of South Carolina, plus the empathetic attitude of the head of personnel in the public school district, Sharon was allowed to resign with no blemish on her record (even offered a job if and when she was ready to return!). Supportive friends at the College of Education then hired Sharon to assist them with their accreditation report. This proved to be a good bridge back to normalcy, as well as an opportunity to end the year on a positive note once again.

December 1986

This is the first time in 15 years that we have been able to write this newsletter from the mainland USA.  We are now back "home" and have both crossed the Rubicon of Middle Age -- 40 years old!  Ken has the grey hair to prove it, but for some reason, Sharon hasn't quite gotten the word yet.   At any rate, to celebrate our mid-life-crises, we decided to take this entire year off from gainful employment and do a few of the things that we just didn't have time to do before.   But let's back up a little.

Last year at this time, we were still in Kenya and chomping at the bit to leave.  As a lark, we chose to spend Christmas vacation in Tanzania because it would be the last opportunity to do so, and the border had always been closed before.  Bad move!  Not only were we frustrated at every turn by the Tanzanian bureaucracy and prices that were 10 times what we were used to in Kenya (example:  $135 per night to camp in a game park!), but we were also arrested when we arrived at the border on our way out of Tanzania and held at gunpoint for over 20 hours. It cost us another $600 in bribes to be allowed to leave that socialist worker's paradise.

That trip just took the heart out of us, so we spent the rest of the year selling off most of our worldly possessions (I think we've done that 5 times so far!) and planning the year ahead.  One of our long deferred dreams was to see the USA in a Volkswagen camper, so we figured that 1986-87 would be a good year to do it.  Thus, we ordered a camper from Germany to save money, then watched the dollar take a beating at the hands of the German mark.  The result:  We paid $2500 more for the car than we would have had we paid for it when we ordered it early in the year.  Well, it's only money.

Then, in June, we took delivery of our car in Delaware and drove it up to Canada for a shakedown run.  Afterwards, we spent 5 weeks in Columbia, SC, at summer school.  While there, we bought a townhouse at a gated community on a lake, with all the yuppie amenities we were looking for (The Yacht Cove, 175 Mariners Row, Columbia, SC 29210), and rented the place out for the rest of this year. We'll move in around June, 1987 and should be there for the next two years while Ken pursues a Ph.D.

After Columbia's record high temperatures, we were glad to get on the road again when school was over, and we then proceeded to scour the continent, racking up 20,000 miles on our odometer in a few months.  We managed to go to all the areas of the country that we had not visited before, save the mid-West.  The best of the best:  Crater Lake in Oregon.

While on the trip, we also managed to sample enough regional cuisine to gain about 15 pounds each. We are now paying the price for this extravagance and are wintering in Florida in our apartment on a literal starvation budget.  But, we still have a few goodies in store for the rest of the year.  By the time you read this, we'll be on a cruise to Mexico.  Later, we'll fly to New Orleans for an educational conference, and, two days afterwards, we'll be in Brazil for Carnival, something else we have always wanted to do.

In sum, this year is turning out to be one of the best of our lives.  We now spend our time reading, writing, exercising, and catching up on all the Americana we have missed for the last 8 years.  We feel good, if a bit older, and hope to spend the next 40 years as well as we have the first.

Love to all...

December 1985

Jambo,

Well, folks, if you just haven't gotten around to making that trip to visit us in Africa that you had intended, you blew it.   After 8 years on this continent, we have decided that it's time to leave and return to the mainland USA, a place which was becoming more of a vacation destination for us than a home.  So at the end of June, we will close up our house, sell what we don't need, ship the rest to storage, and purchase a Volkswagen camper to spend a year of touring all the places in the US that we have always wanted to see but never had the time to.  We figure we'd better get this idea out of our systems before we grow up and settle down.

The past year has been quite eventful.  We did a lot of camping to get a real feel of Africa, and in the process, we almost pitched a tent in the mouth of a lion, were nearly trampled by a herd of elephants while we were eating a picnic with friends on the banks of a river, and Sharon managed to pick up a case of malaria (what people will do to experience the REAL Africa!).  We also traveled to Tanzania for the first time, staying with friends in Dar es Salaam, the capital, and also spending a few days on the island of Zanzibar.  For many years closed for tourism by a paranoid leftist government, Zanzibar is now beginning to modernize and open up its doors to visitors.  The tourist infrastructure is still rather primitive though, or rather, run down -- our hotel, for example, suffered from terminal cases of paint putrefaction and carpet cancer which had left the walls peeling and the rugs as masses of decayed and badly stitched quasi-organic matter.  The smell was...well, let's say "different."  At any rate, we enjoyed our stay, learned a lot about the history of East Africa and the horrors of slavery, and came away with an appreciation of how lucky we were to live and work in Kenya instead of the Socialist United People's Republics of  Tanganyika and Zanzibar.  By the way, if one ever wants to see the difference between capitalism and socialism -- at least on the Third World level -- we highly recommend a trip to Tanzania and then to Kenya.  Vive la difference!!

Last summer, we returned to the US for schooling.  Ken took guidance and counseling courses at the University of South Carolina to help prepare him for his new job as counselor at ISK, and Sharon began a Specialist Degree program in library and information science at the same institution.  As always, we combined study with a lot of fun, and since classes only met 4 days per week, we had many 3 day weekends to explore the coast of South Carolina and the beauties of the mountains of North Carolina, which will someday be our home.  We finally went whitewater rafting, strolled through one of the few virgin forests left in Eastern America, and discovered winding country roads and hospitable inns for the night's lodging.  After 5 weeks in Columbia, SC, we rented a cottage in the Smokies with Ken's parents and lazed about in the woods, trying not to think about returning to work.

Upon our return to Kenya in August, we soon realized that it was time to go.  The work, although different, was becoming a burden.  In truth, we felt burned out, exhausted, spent.  Frustrations which formerly would roll off our backs became major crises without solutions.  So, one day, we just looked at each other and, as so often happens, we were both in agreement that we'd have to cash in our chips and move on at the end of this year.  Now, we're as excited as ever, reborn with the hope and mystery which unplanned destinations and un-thought-of adventures hold for us.  A year without work, a year to go wherever we please.  Ah, FREEDOM!  And then what?  Back to school.  It's about time Ken got his doctorate, and don't forget that specialist degree for Sharon.  We figure it will take about 2 further years for us to finish our degrees -- in fact, it's all set up, and we have even been guaranteed assistantships by the Dean at the College of Education, University of South Carolina.  After that, we'll just have to see what opportunities come our way.  We've never missed yet!

So, there it is, another year under our belts and we are both on the threshold of 40 years old...middle age.  Arghhh!  But it will still be a Merry Christmas -- which we hope we will be wishing to you all from a cottage on the slopes of  Mount Kenya this year -- and a Happy and Adventurous New Year for everyone.

December 1984

Greetings,

Christmas again?  The years seem to fly by now, one fading into another as we are one fourth finished with our fourth contract here in Africa.  It has been another good year for us, despite the ravages of incipient middle-age:  heaps of grey hair around the barber's chair (hey! Whose hair are you cutting anyway?) and even a few silver follicles peeking out of Sharon's golden locks.  But we can't complain since we can still do most of the things we want to do, including a slow game of tennis, a SCUBA dive here and there and huffing and puffing down the basketball court at school.

It's been a year of change for us too.  We got rid of our VW camper and our small Suzuki jeep and purchased a new, long wheel based Suzuki with a fiberglass top in the rear through which an observation trap door has been cut to allow us to peek through and see animals even more intimately.  It's a beautiful car, gets good mileage, has plenty of room for camping equipment, and speeds along quite nicely on the highways.  We've taken it on some fairly rough safaris -- to the Aberdare Mountains, for instance, where we traversed hill and dale in search of the nastiest lions in Kenya. The Aberdares are an incongruous place in Kenya -- a series of lofty hills, some reaching 14,000 feet in altitude, covered with trees and surrounded by moorlands straight out of Scotland, yet also containing Cape buffalo, herds of elephants, and a couple of prides of transplanted lions who have made hiking in the area a rather dangerous pastime. A few months ago, a Danish woman was jumped and mauled horribly by one of the lions as she was walking to see one of the wonderful waterfalls which abound up there. Well, we were fortunate and didn't see any lions, but we did manage to taste of the cool, clean mountain air while checking out the trout choked streams and pristine landscape.

Subsequent to that safari, we took a Suzuki safari with two other couples and their jeeps to the Chyulu Hills, an area half way between Nairobi and the coast.  This time we camped down below and hiked up to the ridge of the hills through a rain forest hardly ever visited by man and on paths worn deep with the hooves of Cape buffalo, the most feared and unpredictable of all animals in Africa.  We hiked in the shade of giant trees with Tarzan vines hanging from them, searching for more birds to add to our checklist of identified species, but always with the knowledge that around that next bend might be lurking several thousand pounds of nasty-tempered horns.  Needless to say, we made it back with only a few scratches from the brambles and the mosquitoes.

Last summer we spent in the U.S., for a change, instead of going to school in Europe as we have done for the past five summers.  We visited the East Coast, using Ken's folks' Lavallette, NJ, house as a base and striking out for a trip from Maine to Florida.  We discovered the beautiful town of Castine on the Maine coast, a town steeped in history and charm, and managed to visit Sharon's brother, Dale, whom we haven't seen for years.  We also visited the Chesapeake Bay towns on the way to the Outer Banks of North Carolina to see Kitty Hawk and the lovely beaches of our soon to be adopted state.  Then we hopped down to Florida to check on the progress of an apartment that we purchased with Ken's parents, an apartment we will have the first opportunity to live in when we visit Florida again this Christmas season.  Finally, we returned to NJ via the mountains of North Carolina to visit Sharon's other brothers, Gene and Gary, and to tramp around our acreage in Otto, NC.  A very restful and refreshing summer.

In addition to the new car and new apartment, we have added a cat and a dog to the household.  The dog, only seven weeks old at this writing, is a white Siberian Samoyed puppy, looking more like a fluffy sheep than a dog and with the disposition of an angel.  The cat, in contrast, is jet black and sleek and finds life difficult as it gets constantly slobbered on by the puppy.

To make things even better, Ken will be occupying a new position at school next year -- that of the school's guidance counselor.  After 12 years in the classroom, it will be a welcome change of pace to deal with kids on an individual basis -- not to mention not having to plan lessons and correct papers.  An added bonus to the less demanding work load will be more money -- an interesting paradox and in keeping with this year of Orwell, 1984.

And as Cronkite used to say, "That's the way it is" this year, folks.  We'll be home for Christmas in NJ and Florida and will be going to school in the U.S. this summer, possibly in Colorado or North Carolina (or Florida, for that matter!).  We expect to remain in Kenya for another three years or so, barring unforeseen calamities or opportunities.  Do not hesitate to visit (planned well in advance, by the way) for Kenya is a never-to-be-forgotten feast for the senses and the spirit.

Merry Christmas and a Happy 1985!

February 1984

Dear friends and relatives,

As can be seen by the date, our 1983 Christmas newsletter is a bit late.  Well, happy Valentine's Day to you all.

This past year has been another good one for us, filled with adventures and gratifying experiences.  We are still in Africa, we are still working at ISK, and we are about to sign on for another 2 year tour, so those of you who have not taken the opportunity to visit -- well, there's still time.

Speaking of visitors, a year ago Ken's parents finally made the journey to Kenya after many years of coaxing and cajoling.  They were not disappointed as we took them on a month long safari all over the country, from the cold mountain scenery of the Aberdares, to the arid desert plains of the Northern Frontier District, to the tropical beaches of the Indian Ocean.  We all had such an exhilarating experience that they will be returning for another month this March!

Last April, we embarked on our most ambitious adventure yet -- a safari to the great Jade Sea (Lake Turkana), far in the north of Kenya.  To get there we assembled a caravan of 3 vehicles:  a Suzuki jeep, a Toyota Landcruiser, and our VW camper.  Together we traversed some of the most beautiful and forbidding terrain on earth, from the Colorado-like, fir covered Cherangany Hills, to the empty wastelands of the Great Rift Valley.  The road was as varied as the scenery, sometimes paved, other times consisting of neglected murram as corrugated as a washboard.  When we finally reached our destination, after 2 days of hard driving, we encountered the beautiful unspoiled lake and SAND -- endless oceans of soft, white, sink-up-to-your-wheel rims SAND.  And we got stuck!  Out of nowhere came the natives.  Hordes of gawking Turkana children, gaggles of old men with walking sticks and bones in their ears, scores of giggling, bare-breasted women -- all of them to watch the strange "wazungu" (whites) stuck in the sand, and to offer advice in a language that, needless to say, was totally incomprehensible to us.

Well, we made it, thanks to the Suzuki which pulled us out and onto a better path that was strewn with palm fronds.  When we reached the palms, we gunned the VW and kept the accelerator pressed to the floor until we arrived at the lake's shore and a more substantial surface.  Great fun -- especially since the temperature was only about 110 in the shade!

Space does not permit us to detail all the wonders we saw there, but suffice it to say that we encountered an entirely new world, peopled by a race of hardy nomads, eking out an existence in the most primitive, desolate, God-forsaken, desiccated piece of land one could imagine.  We feel privileged to have experienced such a thing -- before the McDonald's and condos are built overlooking the lake.

Ah, summertime.  One of the great benefits of teaching is the length of the summer break -- a time to get away, an opportunity to renew the old grey cells.  Last summer was no exception for us, but instead of attending school in Greece, we went to Mallorca for a program of study and relaxation -- with an emphasis on the latter.  We spent 6 glorious weeks on that Mediterranean island of contrasts and another week in mainland Spain, driving from Madrid to Toledo, Avila, and Segovia.  Mallorca certainly was a worthwhile experience.  We met many new friends, picked up 9 credits of education, and had ample time to tour the entire island.  The highlight of our stay was a weekend sail to Ibiza, another island in the Balearics.  We chartered a 48 ft. yacht, captained by an extremely competent and likeable Briton who treated us to a wonderful voyage.  At sea, we relaxed in the cockpit, listened to classical music over the stereo, and drank good Spanish wine with our sausages and cheese.  At night we gazed at the stars in the perfectly clear, unpolluted skies, then turned in to be awakened the next morning by the sound of the anchor chain being lowered in the harbor.  A tour on foot of the winding roads of Ibiza town, a gourmet lunch at a café, a sail to a secluded bay for swimming and snorkeling -- all these for a third of what it would have cost in the U.S.

Returning to Kenya in August, we made 2 changes in our situation.  We purchased a Suzuki jeep (the trip to Turkana convinced us!) to give us more scope to our adventuring, and we moved into a modern, 4 bedroom, rather luxurious house on 1/2 acre of landscaped gardens.  We then purchased an entire household of handcrafted Meru oak furnishings and appliances to meet our basic needs and hired a staff of three to take care of the place:  a houseman-cook, who is simply marvelous and keeps us in better shape than we could ourselves; a gardener, who grows us fresh veggies as well as maintaining the extensive shrubs and flowers that are planted all about; and a night watchman, to open our gate and give us a false sense of security!  So now we lead a life of comfort and decadence (?) usually reserved for the rich in America.  And we like it!!  Oh, what a shock to have to give it all up someday!

This past Christmas, we had our usual month off from school and took advantage of it to meet our great friends, the Graf's, for a skiing vacation in Utah.  We rented a condo on the slopes of Park City, skiing right out the door to the first lift, and spent a marvelous week with 45-50 degree temperatures and sunny, clear days.  After a hard day of gliding on the well groomed slopes, we would dash over to the Hot Tub Club for a leisurely soak while drinking wine and listening to music.  Then out to dinner and return for a relaxing evening of watching the fire burn in the fireplace.  Leaving Utah, we stopped in Vail, Colorado, to see Ken's brother who was spending a month there skiing (!), and then finished off our journey with a trip to Florida to relax with Ken's parents.  Almost forgot to mention that we began the trip with a week in New Jersey with Sharon's father, where we froze our tails off and which reminded us why we left NJ in the first place!

And that's the way it's been, folks.  We remain very contented, much in love with each other and life, and ready for another year of work, fun and adventure.  We intend to visit the U.S. again this summer and laze about in New Jersey from June to August. We are also thinking about a possible  trip to India next Christmas (?) and have quite a few other adventures lined up in subsequent years.

We miss you all and thank you for keeping in touch.  And we still like visitors so y'all come see us now, hear?

December 1982

Friends, relatives and family,

'Tis Christmas time again, the carols are ringing in our ears, and we are well into our fifth year in Kenya.  It has been a most eventful year for us, a year in which we managed to visit the U.S. twice, meet Vice-President Bush, explore one of the natural wonders of the world and circle the globe - all without a visit to bankruptcy court!

This time last year, we were winging our way to North Carolina to spend the holidays with Sharon's father in a rented cottage by a stream.  After a week of familial bliss, we moved on to Sun Valley, Idaho, for a week of skiing with some friends and were introduced to the cold crisp weather of the American West.  Then we completed our month long American safari, with a stay at Ken's folks' house in Florida.

In February, we had the good fortune to take a trip to Zimbabwe, that trouble-torn country in the throes of nation building.  It was there that we experienced one of the greatest thrills of our lives - the mighty Victoria Falls.  Imagine, if you will, a wall of water a mile long, cascading over a sheer precipice with a deafening roar and throwing up a cloud of spray which can be seen for 50 miles!  Awesome!

The school year finished quickly thereafter, and we were off on our great round-the-world journey.  We started in Egypt with a cruise on the Nile (an absolute must!), then went to summer school again in Greece where we learned how to program micro-computers, and then on to Amsterdam. A week in North Carolina with Ken's parents was followed by a marvelous stay in Seattle with friends, then a return to "home" - Hawaii.  From there we jetted to Micronesia, and dove Truk Lagoon, where the Imperial Japanese fleet was sunk.  Crawling inside the 400 ft. ships which have become beautiful coral gardens after 40 years below water was indeed an experience to remember.

We finished our journey with stops in a hot and sticky Hong Kong for shopping and then Singapore for a rest at Raffles Hotel.  During our trip, we were unsettled by the news of an attempted coup in Kenya, but when we returned, we found little changed except for a curfew and jittery nerves.  However, the image of Kenya as the African Continent's most stable paradise has been tainted forever.

Nevertheless, we continue to hang on here, finding more and more things to do and having fewer and fewer free moments to do them in.  Last month V.P. Bush visited our school to cheer us "expats" up a bit.  And we finally managed to convince Ken's parents that they wouldn't be eaten if they came here, and at this writing, we are anxiously awaiting their arrival for a month's stay.

And with that, we say "Until next year" and "Merry Christmas to all."