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Stronger than Death Book Tour Comes to Djibouti

I am so excited to share that the Stronger than Death book tour continues, and it has come to Djibouti.

An international book tour is every author’s dream and it certainly helps that I live abroad! This will be the third country I’ve visited to talk about the book. After a month in the United States, I spent four days in Kenya and spoke to about 8 high school classes about the book, about writing, and publishing, and more. And now, the book discussions are in my “home” country, Djibouti.

If you live here, come on out!

If you can’t make these dates, I’d still love to connect with you about the book. Maybe a local book club? A coffee date to talk writing? A student or school group interested in the writing and publishing process?

Get in touch!


Here’s where the book and I will be this week.

Thursday, November 14, 6:30 pm (1830h) at Ecole Emanuele, sharing with English language learners.

Saturday, November 16, 4:30 pm (1630h) at Villa Camille. Enjoy the beautiful atmosphere of this unique cafe and social space, order delicious food from their menu, and hear about the fascinating life and work of Annalena Tonelli. Book discussion, audience Q/A, and book signing. (There will be books available for purchase).

 

The book is also available for purchase at the International School of Djibouti (and out of the trunk of our Jeep! There are also hard copies of Finding Home and Welcome to Djibouti available).

 

When Things Crash and Stories from the Horn

Don’t let me hold your phone, drive your car, or borrow your computer. Don’t ask me for tech help on your blog, newsletter, Facebook account, or anything else.

I have been run into twice in the past few months by motorcycles. They literally ran right into the car. Once on the driver’s side and once on the passenger side.

Both times the motorcycle driver was at fault, like going the direction on the road, passing on the wrong side, not using turn signals, multiple witnesses all agreeing with them being at fault, all kinds of at fault. I will not publicly go into all manner of not okay-ness in how I was held to blame.

Sometimes, Djibouti wins.

I downloaded an update on my phone and it never worked again. Go to the Apple store, says the internet. I say, “The nearest Apple store is off the continent.

The water proof bag I used to carry items wasn’t actually water proof. Not for me. For so many others, yes. Me? Not this time.

My website crashed.

My computer crashed.

I ruined my newsletter list.

I can fix it. We can fix it. The technician and mechanic can fix it.

But what a headache. Aren’t all these things supposed to make life easier?

I’ll tell you what was easier: not having a phone because it broke. No pressure to take photos – just memorize the moment, just experience the moment. No pressure to respond to messages. No need to post updates.

Still.

Writers gotta internet. Or something like that.

And nowadays, writers gotta newsletter.

This is what is drilled into us everywhere I go online. Build your email list. Facebook and Instagram could crash or close (like they did on July 3 this year – anyone else have image issues? I swear I had nothing to do with that). Don’t let someone else have control of your work.

And I’ve discovered that I really love working on my newsletter and building that email list. People don’t comment on blogs that much anymore and Facebook and Twitter sorta overwhelm me. But in my newsletter, I get to be myself without blabbing it all over the internet. And I get to respond, one on one, to comments and questions and feedback.

I get to work on essays that in the past I would have tried to pitch to magazines but now I love keeping them just my newsletter.

Here are some of the wide-ranging recent topics:

  • How love in dating is different to love in marriage
  • Female genital mutilation from the voices of Djiboutian women
  • The story of a man who lived with a bullet in his head for 18 years and what happened when it came out
  • The next one will be about the cheek kissing greeting. Ever wonder if people accidentally kiss on the lips? I don’t know about people, but I do know about me

I curate stories from the Horn of Africa and Somali news from all over the world. I love doing this – keeping myself and readers up to date on what’s happening in the places we care about, super cool stories about the new superfood: camel’s milk or about Somali yoga lessons on the beach in Mogadishu or about the apparent new Cold War between China and the US taking place in Djibouti, about disastrous White Savior problems in Uganda…

I give loads of book recommendations, including Kindle Deals for the best books, usually under $3.00.

And we do this silly thing where I take quotes from famous people from Gandhi to Oprah to Mr. Rogers and replace the word “struggle” with the word “snuggle.” Because we could all use a little more snuggle in our lives these days.

Its kind of like letting people see the things I love to talk about. Like if we sat down over coffee, I would probably ask you what great book you’re reading. Or what fascinating story has gripped you lately? Or do you have any idea how to untangle the mess or how to celebrate the successes in the Horn lately?

Last week, I switched email providers because I wanted to be better able to provide great content and meet the needs of readers.

Alas.

Remember how nothing was working?

That didn’t work either.

I feel like an idiot. I probably am one. Or didn’t read the instructions well enough, though I felt certain I did. I don’t know.

In any case, a lot of people’s emails fell through the cracks. Like a lot, a lot.

And if you don’t want to read Stories from the Horn anymore and your email fell through – no worries! I’m glad you hung around for a while and you’re welcome back any time, but you are also totally free to head out in other reading directions.

If you do subscribe and still want to, Aweber has assured me, they have solved the problem. So hang tight, some of you have contacted me and I will make sure you’re all added in correctly. I’m so sorry for the hassle and confusion.

If you have never subscribed but are intrigued by what is on offer, I’d love to have you join in. Its totally free, I will never sell or give out your email address. You’ll get a free download: 25 Things You Need to Know but No One Will Tell You about Moving Abroad (and a bonus, secret free download too, once you confirm.)

And if you do subscribe and hit reply to the email when it comes into your inbox, to send me a message or ask a question, I promise to respond. I read every single email and (so far) am able to respond to them all. It might take a day or two, but I love hearing what drew you to Stories from the Horn or ideas on what you’d like to hear more about from me, suggestions on how I can serve you better, or just a “hi!”

Here’s a link for signing up, if you haven’t already seen it posted like, everywhere, on the blog.

Do you have a newsletter? I’d love to check it out.

Send me your link or include it in the comments.

Pirates! Poverty! War! FGM! On Manipulating Headlines to Capture a Reader

How the heck do writers get people to care about other parts of the world?

Editors often tell me (in my many rejection letters) that North Americans don’t care about the Horn of Africa.

Unless I can come up with a salacious or titillating angle (both intriguing words), why would a reader in, say, Minnesota, care about Djiboutian girls making bead jewelry? Maybe they like working their hands to create beautiful things. Maybe they are serving their families by earning extra income, maybe they are developing math, business, negotiation, marketing, and general work ethic skills, maybe they are forming a beautiful community.

But.

Who cares?

Clearly, I do. And clearly, I hope you do. But writing about community, creativity, and beauty isn’t click-bait the way other things are.

(By the way, you can see the handiwork of these young women on Facebook and Instagram and you can even purchase it as of April 2 here)

Stories of hope and joy out of a far away region and culture, struggle to capture the attention of a general reader.

This is why Syrians are crying out for people to care but few respond. It is why many have not even heard of the war in Yemen, what has recently been called the worst humanitarian crisis in 50 years, even with Syria in the picture.

How do writers up the readership on stories from this part of the world which I find inherently fascinating and which I love, but about which few outsiders care?

Here’s what I came up with (while on a run with a friend who also cares about this part of the world):

It has to be about FGM. Female Genital Mutilation. Or pirates, poverty, war.

So here are some possible headlines, to get clicks, readers, and attention. Whether or not they actually represent reality is highly debatable.

For a story about Dreamer and Co, the bead business:

Girls Saved from Pirate Marriages Turn Trash to Treasure

(granted, they were never at risk of getting married to pirates, but I suppose its possible, in the sense of all things are possible)

For a story about the most amazing place I visited in Hargeisa, Somaliland during Marathon week, a place that almost made me cry:

They Don’t Have Clitorises but They Have a Library!

(because who wants to read about a library in Somalia, even if it is the most inspiring place in the entire city)

For a story about the incredible strides Somali women are making in medicine:

Raped in the Middle of the Day, Now a Medical Student

(as if sexual assault has anything to do with her capability as a student or doctor)

For a story about the running club in Djibouti, Girls Run 2:

With No Bras, Underwear, Socks, or Shoes, Girls Still Run

(as if the most important thing about them is what they lack, rather than what they have to offer)

Of course FGM, piracy, poverty, rape, war…all these things are significant issues for the region, for the world. I’m not saying they don’t matter or shouldn’t be written about. I write about them, I talk about them with friends. And there very well could be a place in an article about the first class of medical students to graduate to write about assault and trauma. But using those kinds of troubling details as the main point or a kind of requirement for getting through the editorial doors, skews stories and perpetuates the ‘exotic’ otherness of people, rather than our shared humanity.

We are all broken, broken in unique ways. We can also all celebrate unique stories of healing and beauty, while lamenting the brokenness, without dehumanizing each other.

Maybe it is wishful thinking, to imagine people care about those far away and outside our own borders. There is both too much brokenness and too much beauty to expect anyone to hold it all. I can’t summon the emotional energy to care about all the joys and problems of the world. But at the same time, there are billions of us. Surely there is room for all the stories, surely we can diversify a little bit more, stretch our minds past presidents, past preconceived ideas, past our comfort zones.

Surely we can tell all the stories, in all their dark and beautiful complexity, without insisting on twisting them.

(and no, I will not be using any of those headlines. Preempting the fail of sarcasm online here)

 

What Am I Going to Wear in the Marathon?

I wrote another post, years ago, about what the heck am I going to wear? I was heading to New York City for a movie premiere. Now doesn’t that sound exciting? It certainly was exciting, it was the premiere of the Finding Strong documentary which featured Girls Run 2. That week in NYC I also ran a 5k, peed in a port-a-potty next to Shalane Flannagan, met my (no longer) literary agent, watched Captain Philips in an actual movie theater (still don’t have one here), hung out with my amazing siblings (who made me cry) and shopped for clothes because I had nothing to wear.

Yet again, I face the conundrum of what to wear and this time I’m heading east, not west. Heading more conservative, not less. Heading to cooler weather. The perennial question for women here is: What should I wear?

I promised you months ago that I’d show you what I’ve decided to wear for this marathon.

It took some practice and some experimenting, but I think I have a good plan, knowing full well that it might change last minute.

I’ve counted up the total items of clothing I wore in my previous marathons (socks count as 1 and shoes count as 1): Five. Five items of clothing.

For this marathon? Nine. Nine items of clothing. Yowsers.

Everything needs to be considered carefully when training for a marathon. Shoes, socks, underwear (or none), sports bra, shirt(s), pants, and this time, a scarf.

Shoes

I used to wear Asics but recently the toe box seems to have gotten narrower. Or, my feet have gotten fatter. They aren’t working for anymore. I tried Brooks Ghost. I fell in love. I find that rotating my shoes helps protect against injury, so I currently have three pairs I rotate through. One pair of trail shoes: Brooks Cascadia, which are also too narrow and I had to cut slits around the toes. One pair of Asics, because I had brought them with from Minnesota and can’t buy shoes here, so need to wear them even if they aren’t quite perfect. And the Brooks Ghost. I’ve saved up the Ghosts, only wearing them on my long runs. The different shoes challenge me to run slightly differently – lower heel drop, or the trail shoes, and keep my legs fresh.

Socks

I’m still with Asics on my socks, mainly because that’s what I brought with me. They are seamless, don’t chafe, and don’t give me too much trouble with blisters.

Sports Bra

I have trouble with sports bras. It is so hot here, I sweat so much, I need something completely seamless and they just don’t seem to exist. I have one Champion bra, pretty seamless but also pretty unsupportive. As one of the only women running here, I want something that locks me down. I wear that one for volleyball or for walking. The Nike bras I have used to work great, but lately, even my new ones, leave me bloody at the center of my chest and along my collarbone. I turn them inside out, which helps a bit, but not enough. I found some new Nike bras last summer, which have a kind of fuzzy elastic band. Those are a bit better, though they still chafe, so I turn them inside out as well. In other words, this is what I plan to wear, but it is the weakest link in my clothing lineup and I’m open to suggestions (just know I won’t be able to shop until July).

Shirt

This is the shirt I’ve chosen. But, it will be under a long-sleeved shirt, or maybe over the top, since I’m writing people’s names on it. But two shirts? During a warm-ish race? Aiyayai. What have I gotten myself into?

It is also Nike. I don’t love the color (why does every women’s running shirt here have to be pink?). But, the shirt doesn’t chafe, is nice and light, and is the longest and loosest shirt I have and doesn’t have a v-neck or low cut scoop neck. So it is the most conservative running shirt in my closet. It is a size Large, which is why it hangs past my butt, and was a hand-me down from a runner who left Djibouti. This is the shirt, that will bear the names of everyone who donated to the Go Fund Me campaign.

I tried a shirt from a Muslim-friendly athletic apparel store, a shirt-dress. I hated it. Way too much material for a marathon in a warm climate. Too much flapping. I know from experience that flapping and sweat leads to chafing and bleeding, which is why I wear spandex here. Plus, it would get so dang heavy. It was really comfortable and I could wear it for anything less than an hour, or for someplace cooler than the Horn of Africa, the material was great, but nope. Too much of that great material.

Pants

After my shoes, I’m most excited about my pants. I love these pants. Brooks Chaser. I had to take a big risk and ordered them online, unable to try them or or return them once they got to Africa. But they fit perfect, they are incredibly lightweight and breathable, they aren’t tight but aren’t so loose that they flap. They have four pockets.

But still, they are pants. And my shirt is long-ish but not super long.

So I’m adding a little bonus, which might be removed once I see how things are on the ground.

I used to have a pair of leggings with a skirt attached. I wore them out, the seams got all hard and crusty from sweat and use, so I was almost going to throw them away. Instead, I cut off the legs and saved the skirt part. Now, I can pull that on over the Brooks pants and, if I feel like my shirt isn’t modest enough, I’ll wear the skirt, too. But because it is less material than the t-shirt dress and is more designed for running, it isn’t as flappy.

Underwear

No photos, but I have a good plan.

Scarf

I got this from the same store, Veil Garments, as the shirt dress. I love it. The color, the material, the fit. It doesn’t feel like I’m wearing anything and doesn’t make me feel much hotter or sweatier.

 

I’ll also be wearing my TomTom Spark watch, sans headphones so I won’t miss any of the fun of the race. And, I’ll have my phone in an armband, so I can snap photos if the chance comes up.

Voila!

My marathon outfit. At least in my plan.

Everything could change…

 

Running Afraid

Y’all did it. You helped me raise the funds for the marathon and education fundraiser in Somaliland. Thank you.

And now that means I have to do this.

Uh, I mean get to do this.

But kind of? I mean I have to do this.

I’m kind of a chicken type of person.

You might not believe me. People call me brave. I rarely feel brave. I rarely feel competent. I often doubt my decisions, question my ability, cower before negative self-talk.

I am also stubborn. That’s one thing I have going for me. Stubborn works well for long-distance running. It works well for long-term cross-cultural living. It works well for the years of research and rejection and revising that go into book writing.

But stubborn is not the same as brave.

So I confess that I’m feeling nervous.

I have my plane ticket. I have my visa. I paid my fees and made our donation. I won’t back down (thank you Tom Petty), but I’m doing it afraid.

Anything can happen.

Anything can happen at any time and in any place. I know this full well. I’ve written about it several times.

There’s the marathon nerves that any runner feels before the start of a big race. We’ve spent months training our legs and lungs and brains. We’ve read for inspiration, woken up way too early, pooped in places we wish we hadn’t, downed GU by the bucketfull, kept pasta-makers in business. We’ve tweaked training plans and figured out the best shoes and running gear. We’ve given up on ever having ten toenails all at the same time. So we’re ready, but also not ready.

Its a frickin’ marathon.

That’s a long way.

26.2 miles. 42 kilometers.

It hurts.

The nerves are excited-nerves. I love this stuff. Running, education, the region, the people I’m meeting and spending time with. I love it.

But it is also outside my comfort zone.

So I’m nervous.

I’m nervous about being one of only a few women, only a few international runners, about the location, about what I’ll wear (I’m bringing several options). I’m nervous about the meetings I have arranged for before and after. I’m nervous that not everyone will be thrilled about this event.

My husband tells me to stop being so self-conscious. To not worry about what to wear or what to say or who to talk to, to not doubt myself, to be strong and assertive. He says, “Its all strange.” Meaning: female, running, white, foreign, Somali-speaker. He says to stop thinking so hard and to enjoy it.

He’s right.

I think that’s what it takes to do something while afraid. To jump in with both feet. Forget about dipping one toe in at a time. Forget about self and focus on what I know is true. This is such a unique opportunity. I should not waste time being timid or afraid.

I should be all me. Meaning: curious, interested, hopeful, excited.

Instead of bringing all my baggage of:

I’m too slow

Women don’t run here

I stick out

Its unsafe

I look ridiculous

What was I thinking? (this will come in mile 22, if not before)

I should bring:

My love for Somali culture and the ways it has molded into my American-ness

My dreams of competitive female athletes from this region

My thrill at being part of this unique experience

All the Somalis who have loved me, welcomed me, helped me laugh my way through these years abroad, all the people who have fed me and clothed me (quite literally) and embraced my kids, and forgiven my faux pas, and shown me how to create a home here, and given me their courage when I lacked my own.

So yeah, I get to do this.

Here we go!

(Here are a couple of videos I made of my last two long runs, if you want a peek at running in Djibouti)