To maintain–or maybe establish–credibility as one who can handle life in Menya, I hiked up the mountain behind our house to the jungle on top with Edwin. Four hours up, one hour down.
Our language testers have come and gone. They rated me level two on the NTM language learning scale–I have to reach level nine to proceed to teaching and translating. I was hoping for level three, so it’s a bit disappointing, but contrary to what this lady thinks, I’m progressing. Our testers had lots of suggestions and input…
This is Wes guiding our two “Language Consultants” from the airstrip to our houses yesterday. These guys are missionaries who have learned a different tribal language in PNG and are further along in their respective ministries than we. In addition to continuing in their own translating and church planting efforts, they also serve as consultants…
Some of our latest pictures.
Here’s the (possible) conclusion to the story of the Dracula dog:
Our village was buzzing this week when a dog killed two (or three according to some) chickens and a pig in one morning. Rumors of demon possession abound.
This is Hoka sitting in my office concentrating on how to explain the meaning of a particular word. Usually this process is pretty simple, but occasionally–as on this occasion–it is complicated. The problem stems from using a (very limited) common language that is native to neither of us.
We spent a few hours down at our river this Sunday afternoon with the Chappells. It was a beautiful day and a fun time.
Today Ken, local thatching expert, started work on the peak of our wind-house.
Everett and Jay were eager helpers.
Belle and Lucy both took a turn on the roof.
Sylvie tried to sneak up the “ladder” (a single three inch log.)
She wasn’t sneaky enough.