Still Alive

With my friend Nadji's grandkids

It’s been a while since I’ve written. I haven’t really been in the mood to document my life these days, though I can happily report that I am seeing the Lord do really good things through our work, and that is exciting and encouraging.

So a quick “so far in 2020” update on my life: I got the new Director for Neverthirst and our new Chief of Programs (or I always forget what his title is, but he’s the Boss) out to visit our programs in Africa. After a smooth and fulfilling visit to projects run in Uganda, a country where education and infrastructure seem rampant compared to the wilderness of Chad, I was a bit nervous to bring them over to the Wild West(er) Part of  Africa. But I’m happy to report that they LOOOOOOOOVED it (their words), in spite of, or perhaps because of, the challenges of working here. We ate a lot of camel meat, rode camels, spoke with many communities, pastors and government officials, and were gifted many goats and chickens, which we donated back to whomever was with us at the time. Most importantly, they saw how huge the need is out here and how big the hearts are of the local pastors and churches who want to help in the name of Jesus. So they’re all in for Chad, and that makes me happy, in spite of the fact that I just attended a packed meeting with a government official I will not name who really desperately wants to make life difficult for everyone who is working here trying to make life less difficult for his people. These are the little things that get to you sometimes, but if it were easy, would it be as fun? Maybe not? Of course long pointless meetings are not fun either…

Matt and Jason visiting an biosand filter home in Uganda-
excellent project.

Photographing the drilling team in Uganda-
also an excellent project.

And I got to see a wonderful friend and faithful prayer partner for the first time since South Sudan!

Then we get to Chad and I realized I forgot to tell Matt
to bring passport photos because I always have them and I assume everyone else does.
So I took him to get passport photos--Chadian style.

Second day in Chad--flat tire. Yeah, that's about right.

Free chicken!

The weapon in the car of our friend who helped us get a rental car.
He said he shoots those metal balls to defend against thieves.
Another welcome to Chad!

Joe also loves camel meat and bones!

The woman in the nomad village who really impacted
Jason and Matt when she showed us the water she and her family have to drink.

Also in 2020, I took a nice little break from life to adventure with a wonderful friend who showed how much she loved me by last-minute planning a trip with me when she is NOT a last minute person. But we had a wonderful time because she is a wonderful person. Also the beach was there.

And work marches on…thanks to Jason and his love of documents and organisation (with an ‘s’ because he’s Australian), I have lots of documents and I am way more organized (with a ‘z’ because autocorrect doesn't want me to be pretentious).

Moussa's hôtel des milles étoiles at sunset

This past week, in pursuit of documents and planning, I took a 10+ hour car trip, bumping along the sandy roads, down down down to the riverside in a small town few people know about, including our driver hired so I wouldn't have to drive. I was hoping to camp out with the guys outside of  the church, but because I’m female, propriety dictated that I pitch my mosquito net tent inside the storage room in the pastor’s house. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s only hot now, but later around 2am it will be really cold and you will prefer to be inside.” Personally, I think it would have been nice to have slept on a folded up rug on the sand like our driver did, but I threw down a sleeping bag on top of a yoga mat on a hard brick floor, and managed to sleep until 4:45 when the rural world gets up with the sun to sweep, start the cook fire, pump water for the day, and make the nasara feel bad for being so lazy. I meant to take photos, but I forgot. The house also had a walled off area (no door) for showering and peeing, but if your toilet needs are more than “Number 1” you are requested to find a private place behind a bush outside of the compound for that.

When you're on a 10 hour drive through the bush and you run into people you know!

Nesie and I were there two nights and one full day, which was a very full day, actually. We met in the morning with the pastors who had come in to hear about our project and learn how to follow our application process to find villages where the need is highest. Since the need is high everywhere, we have to find ways to prioritize. It’s never very fun doing that.

Telling the pastors how to fill out the applications.

We also had a bit of time to hear from the pastors about their work and pray for each other. It’s in these moments when I am sometimes overwhelmed with how truly impressive these guys are. You know that bit in The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis when the narrator sees a woman who is really being celebrated and admired and he asks the guide to Heaven who she is? He thinks he knows who she is because she is clearly an extra-impressive person, so surely she was famous on earth too. The guide says, “She is one of the great ones. You have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.” He goes on to tell why this woman who was an unknown during her life is being celebrated for her faithfulness and the way she lived her life and how many people she influenced for good. I think about this a lot when I meet certain people out here and see their faithfulness and their joy in spite of the difficulties that they face on a daily basis. They are out here fighting for others, and you will hear about them someday. Here’s a sneak peak:

Some pretty wonderful men there.

One pastor was a mechanic and a successful businessman. He earned a lot of money and instead of spending it on himself or his family, he and his wife spent a month fasting and praying about what to do with it. He felt the Lord called him to go to seminary. At seminary he was called to be a missionary. He finished his studies as a pastor and missionary and went to this remote town where he saw a need for schools for the children around him. He started teaching the children at the school and then went to get a degree in education. Soon he was noticed by the local government and asked to be the director of a local government school. He is doing this, but he is also working to start schools in all of the churches in the area (open to students of any religion) to make sure that children who can’t travel far to the government school still have a chance to learn to read and write.

Church school blackboard. Local village children are taught by the pastor.

Another pastor was up for a chance for a good job also in the education sector. He passed the exam and was told by the person in charge of the test to go find his name on the list because he had been accepted! He went to go see the list, and his name wasn’t on it. He checked with the administration at the main office—his name was not on the list. Someone had taken his name off and replaced it with the name of their friends and relatives and he didn’t get the job he worked for and earned. As he told the story, I found myself getting angry—injustice, unfairness, cheating—it really gets to us middle children. But he told the story without malice. “God had something else for me,“ he said. “I trained to be a missionary and I’ve been serving the Lord all over and it has been exciting.”

Church instrument--turns out it is more for rhythm than melody.
Very cool sound. Really spices up the Chantes de Victoire

Another pastor has been working with nomads all over Chad, and he said, “I’m basically a nomad myself. I travel all over.” When asked if he had any prayer requests, he said, “Well, I’m really trying to learn a new tribal language. If I learn it, I can speak to 3 unreached tribes in this area. They have been really interested in the Gospel, but we haven’t been able to communicate much.” The man is probably in his mid-50’s and this is his eleventh (11^th!) language. How many 50 year old men at church have you ever heard ask for prayer to learn their 11^th language so they could share the Good News with people who have never heard it before? I feel like our prayer lists tend to be sickness related.  We should pray for sick people for sure (now as much as ever), but not one of the 10 people who asked for prayer that day asked for protection or deliverance from illness. One guy did ask for protection from hippos and snakes when he is fishing though…

Speaking one of his 11 languages.

So those are some of the great ones! People giving their lives to serve others in relative obscurity, though now the 2 people who read my blog will know about them. It’s pretty cool to work with people like this. They know the water needs in the area so well, and they know that clean water is not enough to change lives forever. Just like Jesus telling the Samaritan woman, “whoever drinks from this water will get thirsty again, but whoever drinks from the water of Life that I give will never be thirsty again,” we want to help people get access to the Water that quenches thirst for eternity.

River near the pastor's house at sunrise.

Side note: when Westerners read that story of the Samaritan woman at the well, do we talk about 2 cultures that had been at odds coming together through water? Because Nesie pointed that out—Jews and Samaritans speaking kindly to each other, listening to each other, sharing a resource. He reminded everyone that we can use water to bring reconciliation between estranged tribes and communities too. It was a reminder to me as well about the relevance of the Bible across cultures and times. There is no specific language you have to learn to speak with God. There are no rules and regulations tied to a specific location or time zone that you have to keep. There is no superior culture that everyone should strive to attain at some point. To all who are thirsty, let them come and drink from the water of Life.

A few other photos from recent days, if you want to keep scrolling down:

Two of the best people ever to walk the face of the earth,
neither of which know how to take a photo without smiling with their whole face.

Moussa photographing his food--nowhere is safe from the food photographers!

I gave him the bag so that he could carry a bunch of stuff he had accumulated.
He proved that he is actually a normal guy because he was going to refuse since it looked too girly.
Then he decided that he would keep it in honor of women's day, and he now uses it all the time.

Nadji broke his foot! I went to visit him and hang out with his grandkids
(first photo on the blog)

Took them for a short ride in the car.
It was the BEST. Day. Ever.
It's nice when kids are easy to please.
And also adorable. The one in my lap definitely knows his power, though-
he gets what he wants because he is irresistible.

Henry (our Finance Director) and I crashed a wedding.
As a Kenyan, he was disappointed that they didn't dance as they do in Kenya.
He said: at my wedding, we danced SERIOUSLY.

It was a packed house, celebrating the marriage of a man who
lost his wife suddenly a few years ago and was left with small children.
God blessed him with a new wife who loves his kids and will serve alongside him in the church here.
There was a lot of rejoicing for this couple.

Wedding selfie from Claire and me!

The Kenyans teach the mzungu to make East African chapatis!

Oh they are soooo good.

They have layers!

And I made mango cobbler (that's cinnamon on the top, not burned bits).
It doesn't look as tasty as the chapatis, but Henry liked it anyway.

Airport Blogging for Claire

Hanging with the ladies--you can't even tell which one is me.

If Claire told me to jump off a cliff, I probably would do it. I mean, she (and Debbie) asked me to bring an envelope with pieces of humans in it to mail to their pathology guy in the States, and I’m doing that. I have a cool letter about it, and they were telling me that if someone gives me a hard time about it, just to leave the envelope, as it’s not worth getting in trouble for. Apparently no one who has done this for them has ever had anyone ask questions, but I hope I get some curious TSA guy with a weak stomach. The perks of being friends with hospital people! (Also, sometimes they give me free meds.) But anyway, Claire said to blog while in the airport, so that is what I’m doing.

Moussa in the background taking photos of me,
and that is why I have so many photos of me in this post.

When you try to take photos of a group of women who are not prepared

Clearing no one but Ashe is paying attention

These last few weeks have flown by, trying to finish up work stuff, entertaining visitors, making short trips to the field, ordering lots of food from the restaurant near my house that delivers because I’ve become friends with the owner and I haven’t had much time to cook these days. I’ve also been invited to several American embassy parties because of Joe, who is currently staying with various Embassy people while I’m gone because they have nice yards and he is irresistible. I’ve also had a few visits from the vet, once after Joe was attacked and bitten by a mean dog in the street and once recently when Joe has been sick with what I think is a cold. A coughy, sneezy, snuffly dog is a sad dog. The vet came late the last visit because he was outside of town vaccinating a bunch of sheep.

Joe sitting inside the gate, the guard putting his hand in to pet him--
I told you he is irresistible!

This is me when I'm sick too. 

Another culture shock moment for Jack-sugar cubes,
"Amanda, what is this? It's like candy! They put it in their tea?"
Apparently sugar cubes are not a thing in Jack's Kenya.

My most recent trip to the field (two days ago, I think, but time is a blur) also involved sheep and camels and goats and herds of cows and that one donkey I almost hit because he would not move out of the road. I headed out to some villages outside of Dourbali to check on a few projects and meet my namesake. She’s called “Amina,” which is my Arabic name. Originally it was my Somali name, but I changed up the pronunciation to use it here. It’s now more widely used than my actual name whenever I am walking with Joe around our neighborhood.

Amina and Amina

Irrelevant to the blog, but I love this guy,
he's been a great supporter of our work,
and he is a wonderful father who adores his daughters,
one of whom is also called Amina, but not after me.

This chubby baby ran up to me and put up his arms, speaking of irresistible!
Kids usually run away from me screaming, so I was pretty excited,
had to commemorate the moment with a selfie, as you can see in my glasses reflection.

I always like to go to the field and spend time with people in the village and hear their stories. I like hanging out with the women, forcing them to let me help with basic tasks that I know I can do (shelling peanuts-yes, making the peanut butter-no), and playing with the babies that aren’t afraid of me. I was happy to meet baby Amina, but I really rushed the trip. Initially, I’d planned to spend the night in Dourbali with Pastor Moussa, which would have given me a whole day to visit 4 projects out in the bush, but I had to get to the Christmas party for IAS staff that evening. I couldn’t leave the day before because I had to take Jack and Emmanuel to the airport at 5am the next day. So I decided to drop Jack and Emmanuel at the airport, meet Nesie at the roundabout near his house, and drive on, beating traffic, which I noted last time is not as bad as Nairobi traffic, but still the probability of accidentally (or on purpose) killing someone on a motorcycle who jumps in front of you at the last moment increases during certain times of the day.

Camel guy thinks we're weird in our car

Guy on a horse thinks we're weird in our car

I really wonder what we are all looking at,
but it's more likely we are all tired of squinting at the sun.

The car I was planning to take arrived in from Abeche late the night before. I had checked in with the driver while he was on the way to ask him to please put petrol in the car THAT NIGHT because the stations aren’t open before 6am and I wanted to leave before 6am. He promised he would, but then I arrived at the office and found out he had forgotten. It was 4:55am at the time. I did not make much of an effort to hide my annoyance. Anyway, at 5:30 while driving to pick up Nesie, consoling myself with the fact that it wasn’t too long to wait for 6am and trying not to think about the fact that this isn’t a country dedicated to on-time store openings, I saw an open petrol station! I was able to fill up the truck and save myself about 15 minutes of time and an entire day of being annoyed with people who did not keep with my plan. Luckily, I had another chance to be annoyed with someone for not doing something I had asked to be done last week at the IAS Christmas party later that night. And again, it ended up ok. It’s nice when that happens. People will often let you down, and it doesn’t always end up with no one getting hurt.

Camel attack at dawn!

And now the sheep, who were likely vaccinated by Joe's vet

Always the cows blocking the road

One of the best parts of my job is seeing the joy and hearing about new life in a community with a new water point. I love the smiles and the stories. I’m humbled by the generosity shown to me, whether it involves naming your seventh child after me or serving me your best food (though I do try to avoid eating goat intestines and termite stew, if it is possible—I had the goat intestines this time).  But it’s hard to get requests for more help like building a school or a health center in the area, knowing that the need is huge, but that’s just not what we do. There are a lot of needs out here, but it’s a privilege to work with Pastor Moussa and others around Chad to identify needs that we can address.

New hand pump is already hard at work

Best part of the job!

It’s also pretty fun driving around, off-roading it—as long as there is no traffic and I’m in the truck. I do not like off-roading it in the corolla and I don’t like driving in town where my competitive instincts resent cars trying to pass me. The truck can connect to my phone (so high tech!), so I can play music, and that is fun. I was entertained by the contrast of the road I was on and the Rend Collective song “My Lighthouse,” which I downloaded to learn for a few weeks ago when I was helping David lead worship for their TEAM conference. I guess Northern Irish musicians will stick together (he had a few Getty songs in the repertoire too), and it was nice of him to invite an American to join him because it’s fun to play with good musicians, and I don’t get to do that very often. Anyway, the Rend Collective people are singing on a boat in the middle of the sea while we were driving through sand, dodging camels—basically the same. The other entertainment was me asking the guide which road to take. When you’re driving in the Sahel, there are scrubby bushes all around, a few trees of differing sizes, and various types of sand, which turn into various types of mud in the rainy season making many roads impassable. You look for the most defined tire tracks and try to follow them, even though most of them are probably from “chariots” (we call them horse carts). People drive wherever they want and you don’t always know which way is the right one. I’ve definitely gotten lost on roads like that so I kept asking the guy which road I should take. He kept saying, “Don’t worry about it! They’re all going the same way!” I believed him, but then when driving out of Moussa’s house later on our way back to N’djamena, I was concentrating on avoid trees and bushes and I wasn’t really paying attention to the direction I was going (because “all roads go to the same place”) and I hear Moussa in the back laughing saying, “Why are you taking the longest possible road out of here?” And then I looked up and realized I had veered a bit off course.  I need the desert equivalent of a lighthouse, I guess. When I finally arrived home, having taken a few other extra-long roads to avoid potholes, there was less than an hour until I was supposed to be at the Christmas Party. That’s when I discovered I’d left my house keys locked in the corolla, and the keys to the corolla were locked in the office, but Emelie came to my rescue.

Following a "chariot" on a very obvious road

IAS Staff Christmas Party

So I made it to the Christmas party and I had just enough cash to pay for everything. Then I packed the truck with several of my colleagues, dropped them all at their homes, and went back to mine where three friends of mine holding an all-night prayer meeting in the empty house in my compound. A few months ago, Pastor Moussa posted a photo on Facebook of a meeting we had with a former minister in Dourbali about the submersible pump project. Some FB friend of his commented along the lines of “I guess you had to wait for the little white girl to come help you” and “You know that if the white people give you anything, you will be in their debt forever.” I saw the comment, and I definitely know where he is coming from. The legacy of “the whites” in Africa is well-known and almost entirely negative. And plenty of “little white girls” have done a lot of damage over the years, and I know that this “little white girl” has made plenty of mistakes. But I can say right now that Pastor Moussa and others here, even just over the last few months, have given me more than I could ever repay. Their support, love, and faithful prayers have been life to me. I’ve often been annoyed that I see Jesus in my mind as a white guy with blue eyes and flowing light brown hair, even knowing how historically inaccurate that is, but years of Sunday School flannel boards and exposure to anachronistic medieval artwork is really hard to undo. But lately I’ve noticed that, while still historically inaccurate, Jesus has Moussa’s joy (and definitely his smile!) and Nadji’s gentle warmth and Gabriel’s fire and Antani’s servant heart and Emelie’s unshakeable faith and Nesie’s passion to help everyone in need who happens to wander into his path from a prostitute living in the street with her newborn baby and who is now living in his house, to his neighbor’s daughter whose school fees he is paying because he believes girls should get an education, to the street boys he buys bread for when they're coming down off their drugs, to the prisoners he visits in jail. I am amazed that I get to be a part of their lives and that because of Jesus, we are Family in the truest sense of the word. And that’s what I told mon petit frère on Moussa’s Facebook. And when I think of how exhausted I am right now and how little sleep I’ve had over the past few nights, I remember that Moussa and Nadji have had even less—because they’ve been awake, praying for me. So in conclusion, support the Africa projects for Neverthirst so I can keep trying to even the score with them because while they did like trying pizza for the first time, I feel like we could do more with a solar pump or two. Bonne fête à vous!

Moussa and Nadji try pizza for the first time,
and then they ate the leftover cold pizza for breakfast the next day!
Pizza initiation complete!
(Note: I also bought them fish, which they enjoyed much more, I think.)

Quick question: should I make an instagram account for Joe?
I'm not on instagram myself because social media is a Job,
but I feel like Joe is ready to become an Influencer.

Africa Is Not a Country

I'm walking out of the photo because this post is not about me,
or maybe it's because I'm still working with Nesie on
how to take photos--at least he got the ladies on their donkeys

A friend of mine from the UK tells me his favorite (favourite, actually because he’s British) response to “Oh, you live in Africa? I went on holiday once to Kenya!” is “Oh, you’re from England? I went on holiday once to Greece.” I would have to look up the distance between the UK and Greece and Chad and Kenya to be able to tell you if they are similar distances apart, but a glance at map shows it’s not too different. The point is that one country in Europe (until/unless the UK ever manages to Brexit) is quite different from another country in Europe (language, culture, terrain, etc) and one country in Africa is quite different from another country in Africa (language, culture, terrain, etc). Having been in Kenya a few times (though I’ve never really traveled outside of Nairobi), I can tell you that it is very different from Chad. Recently, though, we’ve had a guy from Kenya here consulting for us on some office stuff, and it has been so fun to hear Jack’s observations on life in Chad. It was his first time out of East Africa, and he’s been great about everything. I have his permission to share a few of his “culture shock moments,” as he calls them. Keep in mind that Jack is a good Nairobi boy, and Kenya, like most places in Africa, is quite diverse tribally, linguistically, culturally—so even Jack’s thoughts are just Jack’s thoughts and are not intended to be representative of Kenya as a whole.

Looks the same to me

Here is Jack, trying to solve all of our problems
(he's not done yet!)

Jack’s first “culture shock moment” was actually something I didn’t expect at all. He and Denis (from Uganda) arrived just before lunch time and so we had food available for everyone that day. We did our usual welcome to Chad meal—roasted meat (camel and beef) with mapa (baguettes). We dump everything on a giant circular metal platter and everyone stands around and digs in. You rip a bite-sized piece off of your bread, use it to grab a piece of meat, a chunk of onion (raw, but we don’t mind), dip it in a mixture of hot pepper and lemon juice, and pop it in your mouth.  Jack said, “Oh, you’re all eating off the same plate? This is different for me. We don’t do this where I’m from.” Of course I offered to get him his own plate and eating utensils because we do have them, but we don’t often use them. Jack declined, saying, “No, this is fine. This is nice. No problem!” Which I thought was quite generous of him on his first day out here.

I don't have a photo of Jack's first communal meal with shared plate,
but here is an old photo of Leif at one such communal meal.

Now, I know that in the US and the UK we don’t often share food off of the same plate, but we did in the Middle East, Sudan, South Sudan, all over Chad, definitely growing up with sisters who like to try each other’s food, and I just assumed that it would be normal for Jack too, but I was wrong (probably for the first time ever in my life, of course).

Another communal meal that Jack was not a part of

Since our conversation about his “culture shock moment,” I’ve been noticing other things that surprise him about life here. Children go to school on Saturdays! People eat so much meat and very few vegetables! Men hang out after work and play games-cards and this French game that involves throwing metal balls down the street. He thinks they’re grown ups and they are not serious. It’s time for them to quit playing games!

I have no photos of the men playing games,
so please enjoy this photo of me, a grown up,
wasting time taking selfies with kids

When Jack first arrived here, I asked him how he felt about dogs, as he has been staying in my compound where Joe is the King of everywhere. Jack said he is not very keen on them, which worried me a bit. I made Denis sit in the back of the car with Joe when I drove them home because I know Denis likes Joe (he’s been here before). But within a day, Jack and Joe became fast friends. Now Jack goes with Joe and me on our after-work walks. We’ve had lots of interesting talks on those walks. That is when he came in contact with the Chadian after-work gaming clubs. He’s also amazed whenever we were driving home one night to see people outside on the streets, doing various things without being bothered by police or criminals. I explained to him that many/most people here do not have electricity. Often students will go to public areas at night that have streetlights to study their lessons. Other people just like to hang out at night now that it’s cooler then. Either way, Nairobi is notorious for crime and police patrol the streets there at night. Any outside loitering is assumed to be dangerous and people can’t just hang out outside wherever they want. Jack is amazed by this, but also slightly concerned for our safety, I think. Fortunately for him, our greatest danger when walking with Joe is that he will chew through his harness and escape to chase down one of those goats that taunts him from the side of the road. If Joe can take down a goat, he will be so pleased with himself, but I 

will have to pay a lot of money for a dead goat carcass.

Jack in the front, protected from Joe

Joe in the back with me when Emelie drove Jack and me home

Joe, looking cute, missing playing with Jack

 

Jack’s favorite places in Chad are Modern Market, our air-conditioned supermarket with aisles (!) and the Hilton, which we have been told is closing soon due to unpaid debts. I told him that probably means that he isn’t really cut out for a long-term life in Chad, but Jack knows what he likes and he comes from a place of cooler weather, multiple supermarkets several times the size of  Modern Market, and many fun places to hang out if you can make it there in the horrible Nairobi traffic.

Sunset over the pool at the Hilton-we are so fancy here in Chad

Hilton peacock sitting on an ambassador's car--
maybe if the Hilton spent less money on peacocks and more
on paying off their debts, they wouldn't be closing...

Modern Market, photo from the internet
Jack said, "I finally feel like home here!"
Even though several Modern Markets would fit in most
Nairobi grocery stores that I've been to.

Speaking of traffic, Jack’s presence with me in the car while driving to work is helping with my road rage. Whenever I get mad at someone cutting me off or refusing to follow basic traffic rules (even the stupid ones that came from the French like having the right of way going into the roundabout and not going out), I remember that it could be worse: I could be driving in Nairobi traffic. And it calms me greatly. No, people here do not drive well (if I’m being honest, I don’t always drive well either), but fortunately, there aren’t that many people here who have vehicles and our worst traffic happens whenever the President decides to block all the roads so he can drive somewhere without worrying about being assassinated by his beloved people.

Each colored line represents the path of one of the following:
 a motorcycle, donkey, pedestrian, car or minivan.

So there you have it. Those are a few of Chad’s quirks noticed by our wonderful Kenyan consultant. If you come visit me, you can point out other quirks that you notice because I don’t really notice the weird things we do here anymore.

Two Kenyans, a Ugandan, an American (not pictured) in a Lebanese restaurant
in Chad that said American can never go to with her British friends because they think the food is terrible.
The Kenyans, Swedes, Germans, Swiss and Ugandans all seem to like it fine.

A photo of Joe being carried to the car.
I've been told that he is a bit spoiled but the ground
was too hot for his little paws!

Try to say 'no' to that face. You will fail.
This past week Leif, Urbain, Gero, and Jack have all dropped everything to play with Joe.
And I have been invited to 2 parties with fancy Embassy people because they want Joe to come.

Also even Kadidja loves him

💗💗