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Ethnosphere Connect, Express, Inspire

Hyppytyynytyydytys (n): joy found in small things

Collection 11 - November 2023

Madeline C. Lanshe

3 5

Masthead

Abounding Joy Allison, who has been living and working at Naomi’s Village in Kenya for five years, makes preparations for another child to be received into their community where she will start her new life with a joyous celebration.

Glimmer

From One Heart to Another

Contents

Poetry

A generous act from strangers, involving Dungeness crabs, touches Nick and his wife in a lasting way.

13 Small Things that Bring Us Joy 19

Photography

Cracks in the Crown Elinda is forced to travel for months with a fractured crown in her mouth. She is surprised when it ultimately leads her to friendship and a wonderful experience.

Swallowtail Mornings

Beyond the Magazine

Submissions

December Issue Reveal

A song by Alex Bevan

Learn more about the people highlighted in this issue and see where you can view more of their work.

Hai Nguyen

www.ethnospheremagazine.com

Editor

Madeline C. Lanshe editor@ethnospheremagazine.com

Editorial Staff

Mitchell Dunbar, Maureen Gregory, Madeline C. Lanshe, Marcia Neundorfer, Mike Neundorfer

Designer

Madeline C. Lanshe

Photographers

Daniel Cappell, Hannah Clemente, Sergio De Gante Martin, Mitchell Dunbar, Elise Hanson, Daniel James, Ali Kaeberlein, Madeline C. Lanshe, Mike Neundorfer, Hai Nguyen

Writers

Alex Bevan, Alexandra Corey, Elinda McKenna, Allison Njaria, Nicholas Sherman

Published by Advanced RV

2023 Advanced RV. All materials contained in this publication (including text, content, and photography) are protected by United States copyright law and may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, displayed, broadcast, published, or modified in any way without the prior written consent of Advanced RV. Contributors retain all rights to their stories, photography, art, etc. while giving Ethnosphere Magazine/Advanced RV the right to share their work in the digital magazine, print, and any other way they see fit for creative or promotional reasons.

Ali Kaeberlein

Abounding Joy by Allison Njaria

ometimes I think that the brokenness of this world is far more than I can bear. But devoting my life to serving at Naomi’s Village Children’s Home in Maai Mahiu, Kenya has taught me to live in the tension of the bittersweet: heartache in one hand, joy in the other. The warm sun blanketed the rural town of Maai Mahiu in the early hours of an August morning. One little girl in the next town over was waiting to be brought here, to her new forever home. A series of events, unknown to me, led us to this day, in which Naomi’s Village, a private local children’s home, needed to intervene and care for a parentless young girl, as we’ve done for so many others. Here, there were hearts ready

to love her, arms more than ready to embrace her, and lives already committed to raising her and providing all that was necessary for her to become the person she was created to be. Raised in suburban Arizona, I never imagined settling down 9,000 miles away in rural Kenya. An initial internship at a local Kenyan hospital and a brief visit to Naomi’s Village sparked a fire within my heart to join those serving the vulnerable children living in this community. I couldn’t leave. Walking through life with these children every day over the last five years, my heart often breaks over the challenges that they face. I mourn their losses with them. I carry space in my heart to hold their tears. And as we bear together the weight of heartache, I

continue to remind them of the little glimmers of joy that poke through the darkness, if you’re willing to keep your eyes open to spot them.

designate someone to commence the chorus of praises for the One who created the little life about to ride into our gates.

Early afternoon marked the departure of the Naomi’s Village Land Cruiser. Members of the leadership team took off for the nearby town on a clear cut mission: pick up one little girl, sign countless guardianship papers, and travel back for the celebration of a lifetime. I chose to stay behind at Naomi’s Village as the official Welcome Home Party Coordinator, a role that lends itself to the sweeter end of the occasion.

She would be lifted out of the Land Cruiser just like Rafiki lifts Simba on Pride Rock in The Lion King. We would celebrate her introduction to our ever-growing family until the sun set behind us.

The minutes dragged by as I anxiously waited for the phone call which would alert me to gather the troops, grab the African drum, and

“There is a little boy here who also needs a home. Get ready for one more.”

Lost in my thoughts, daydreaming of this beautiful moment to come, I nearly missed my phone ringing.

I couldn’t believe our director’s words on the other end of the call. We had only planned for one child. Did we have enough cribs? Was there time to bake another Welcome Home cake? Did we have enough decorations to properly celebrate this little boy? As I wondered aloud, I realized the trivial nature of my thoughts. My desire to plan every moment of every day would be nothing in comparison to the hearts which would put love into action regardless of the circumstance. And that’s exactly what happened: a bed was prepared, another cake had already gone into the oven, and more arms were ready to carry another child into our family. Tears of joy filled my eyes as I watched love move all around me. I started to walk up the long, rocky driveway, wanting to find a way to lend a hand and keep myself busy, when my phone rang yet again. What I heard next genuinely took my breath away.

where, by the miracle of love, three cakes sat waiting to be devoured. Speeches of gratitude and joy were given by fellow children and members of staff. Our hearts overflowed as we reflected on the moments that had brought us to that dining hall with those three little ones. The celebration concluded, as any good party does, with the ceremonious cutting and serving of cake. I looked up from my corner of the room to see that first little girl, the one whose circumstances set this whole beautiful day into motion, gobble down her slice, wide-eyed and grinning. Her name would be, from that day forward, Violet Najuma. Najuma: a Swahili name meaning “abounding in joy.”

Each of these children are now excelling in primary school, learning to swim during school holidays, and celebrating their birthdays surrounded by lifelong friends. Every time I see a teacher’s glowing report of their academic “Her name is Stella and we believe she is about progress, watch them do a cannonball into the 4 years old. There should be a bed available for pool, or see them donned in a birthday party her upstairs. We’ll be home soon.” hat, I am reminded of the abounding joy that can be found in every little moment, just so long Three children. Three lives. Three narratives as you keep your eyes open long enough to see of heartbreak about to be rewritten into it. These delights are part of what has kept me stories of hope. in Kenya for the past five years. And they are in abundance in Naomi’s Village: a rainbow that The Land Cruiser, which left the gates expecting takes up the entire sky above me on a rainy day, to bring home one precious little life, returned, the taste of a perfectly ripe mango as the sun instead, with three. It charged into the village sets on our boys’ soccer match, or a tiny hand, like a chariot carrying only the most precious squeezing mine, as a little boy learns to trust for and exquisite gifts. A chorus of voices rang the very first time. out, celebrating life and seeking the joy that was sure to be found in each of their tiny smiles. We carried them on our shoulders, dancing and marching forward to the communal dining room

Glimmer

by Alexandra Corey

My universe is not your universe. So what if I catch myself in the flicker of morning light that dances across the water, chasing the train? You are there, too. But you watch the shadows cast by the clouds overhead. I can understand. Still, you can’t convince me that this glimmer – so fleeting and bright – is not my own reflection.

From One Heart to Another

by Nicholas Sherman

o anyone reading this, I’m going to state the obvious: 2020 was a challenging year. The New Year arrived with an incipient pandemic and, less than six months later, the country was in the grips of civil unrest following the death of George Floyd. At that point in time, my wife and I were at our house in Seattle when the city, for lack of a better term, descended into chaos. Things only got worse as late spring turned to summer. By August, we both came to the conclusion that it was time to put our beloved Seattle home up for sale. Given the red-hot real estate market, we hatched a plan to take our camper van south along the Pacific Coast with the goal of seeing as much of Oregon’s coast as possible for two or so weeks while our realtor did her thing.

American family staying in an adjacent space setting up two large turkey fryers and filling them with water and crab-boil spices. Curiosity piqued by their activity, I kept my eyes on them as I made my way through the emails and phone calls. About 30 minutes after the turkey fryers came out, the water was boiling, and a man in a pickup truck towing a boat arrived at their site. This man - who I would later find out was the family’s patriarch - brought the motherload of Dungeness crabs he’d caught earlier that day. As a food-driven traveler who loves crabs, I knew how valualbe and incredibly tasty this kind of crab is. About every twenty minutes or so, boiled crabs were removed from the fryers and another batch of fresh, washed, live crabs were loaded back into the spiced water. This went on long enough for me to finish catching It was a trip of serendipity…random stops, little up with my work and pour a martini - at which planning and absolutely breathtaking scenery. point, I took to observing their operation with After three days of traveling, we’d reached undivided attention. Coos Bay, Oregon where we made camp at an oceanside RV resort. I was catching up on After an hour of watching this surprise flashemails and voicemails when I noticed an African crab-festival, curiosity, hunger and my martini

provided just the right combination of nerve and impetus to my introverted heart for me to approach this family. I’d offer them retail (at that time, $60) if they’d be willing to part with just one crab for my wife and I to enjoy for dinner.

own heart, for someone he didn’t know, with absolutely no strings attached or expectation of future benefit from me. I regret that I did not get his name.

Sadly, actions like his are becoming less and As I approached, I realized it was a much less common in our increasingly divided nation. bigger family than what I could see from our I mentioned earlier this story took place in van, with 10+ family members working on a August of 2020 - a time when civil unrest and conveyor line to clean the crabs. This wasn’t race relations were the worst my wife and I had their first rodeo; they were removing the ever experienced in our lives (we’re both in our entrails but leaving the crabs otherwise whole mid-forties). In the context of that point in so they could freeze what they didn’t eat. I time, the fact that this African American family was greeted by a child who pointed out her showed such generosity and random kindness grandfather to me, the man who’d brought the to very pale and pasty strangers (we’re both crabs to camp. I laid out my proposal to him. part-Irish!) continues to inspire us to this day. His response was simple and succinct: “How It also reminds us of the importance of human many people are you feeding?” I told him just to human connections, to let your experiences two and that one crab would be plenty for me inform and develop your own narrative of how and my wife. I reminded him I’d be willing the world is instead of letting your mind be to pay the equivalent of retail. He responded filled with what the talking heads are paid to get that one of them would run something over us to believe. to us in about an hour. I went back to our RV to relay the news to my wife, happy with how Later, after feasting on the best crabs we’ve the interaction went. ever tasted, and not being able to accept such a generous gesture without giving them something About forty minutes later, the man I’d spoken to in return, I forced them to take a dry-aged, 10 and one of his sons knocked on the door of our oz prime filet mignon that we’d planned to cook van and handed us a bag with three huge, fully that night for dinner. cooked and cleaned Dungeness crabs. I began to dig into my pocket for cash. Unless you want to We got word of a full price offer on our home pay through the nose to eat one of these, you’d the following day with a short close. While better have a boat and some traps or, at the very we still had another 100 miles to go until the least, know a fisherman and live fairly close to California border, we unfortunately had to turn them. But then he said something I will never around. With the crabs from the ocean still in forget: “You don’t need to pay us anything; our stomachs, and the kindness of the strangers we’re all in this together.” still in our hearts, we headed back. We eventually would start a new chapter of life in a new home, His generosity, to complete strangers, was keeping this memory with us to this day, because deeply touching - particularly given the rarity of such unexpected, selfless acts can deeply inspire this food. To this day, I still have trouble telling and stick with the people they touch. the story without my eyes welling up. He was doing something out of the goodness of his Cheers Everybody!

Hai Nguyen

Daniel Cappell

Small things that bring our readers joy

Ali Kaeberlein

Madeline C. Lanshe

Amy Moskin

Mike Neundorfer

Madeline C. Lanshe

Ali Kaeberlein

Sergio De Gante Martin

Mitchell Dunbar

Daniel James

Hai Nguyen

Elise Hnason

Madeline C. Lanshe

Hannah Clemente

Cracks in the Crown by Elinda McKenna

n late May, I had a bit of a dental situation. As my husband and I were taking in the sights and sounds of upstate New York, a crown on a back molar cracked and parts of it fractured and broke off. It was evening, and I asked at the Ranger Station if they could recommend a local dentist, which they did. I called that dentist, as well as several others, only to hear that no appointments were available for weeks, if at all. I’ve had other crowns break, and one solution I’ve found is grinding off the sharp bits with a nail file to diminish the ragged edges. I also picked up a mouth guard that could be boiled and bit to create a mold.

As we continued on our journey, making our way into Canada, I called dentists in all the areas we’d be traveling through. I was never able to schedule an appointment. Between the crude mouth guard and the fabulous trip we were having in Pangea, our RV, the tooth anxiety would drift into the background until small bits would erode off. Our adventures into Canada’s maritime provinces were spectacular, and well worth any discomfort felt. We arrived back at Advanced RV, where we’d designed and purchased Pangea in March of 2023 before immediately setting off on our adventure. We were there this time for service at

the end of our trip in October. The first evening we were there, a significant piece of the crown broke off during dinner. The next day, I chatted with Tricia, the receptionist at ARV, who seems to have connections everywhere. This time was no different. She recommended a nearby dentist who also happened to be an ARV owner. Tricia made the call, and they were incredibly accommodating, finding time for me within the next couple days. My dentist visit anxiety was overshadowed only by my fear that the crown would fracture to the point where I’d be in terrible pain, so after months of dealing with this problem, I went in. I felt so welcomed the moment I stepped into their office, which helped lessen the anxiousness I was feeling. Everyone, the receptionist, hygienist, and the dentist, Dr. Woznicki showed concern and care about my situation and overall well-being. We chatted about our RVs, connections we shared, health and fitness, and the joys of travel. Anyone who has spent time in a dentist chair knows most conversations are one-sided, with the patient muttering a few words or grunts when they can. This appointment felt more like a getting-to-know-you session, and I never got the impression that it was burdensome to have fit me into their regular scheduling.

I was relieved to hear Dr. Woznicki say the crown wasn’t fractured in such a way that I’d need a lengthy procedure. He smoothed the edges with actual dental tools, putting my out-in-the-wild nail file approach to shame. Because of the care and professionalism, I really felt at ease during all stages of the appointment. I’d planned to use Lyft or Uber since their office was about 7 miles from ARV. Dr. Woznicki insisted that I let one of his assistants, Margie, take me. I tried assuring him that that wasn’t necessary, but he wouldn’t hear of it. So Margie, without making it feel like an inconvenience, drove me back. We had a great conversation about camping, fitness, Park City, books and podcasts that interested us. The organic nature of the connections made from Tricia at ARV to everyone at the dentist office really brought home the connections and community fostered by ARV in the Willoughby area. It seems silly to say a broken crown, in a roundabout way, brought me joy. Yet here I am, with my crown secure and no longer a jaggededged irritation, my appointment painless and reassuring, and new friends to catch up with if ever our paths cross once more.

Swallowtail Mornings by Alex Bevan

LISTEN TO SONG

One hand on the pommel… watching the herd Whistling a tune ‘bout a mocking bird Lifting his hat like he’s saying hello The old cowboy sings soft and low….

“Swallowtail mornings… grapevine afternoons Loving deeds done in the dark of the moon The Big Dipper spins towards the brighter of stars Where fireflies dance outside the jar….” An oak tree, a red barn… a blacksmith.. inspired… Pounding out sparks… he hums by his fire Fashioning plowshares and simple machines… Melting down AR 15’s “Swallowtail mornings… grapevine afternoons Loving deeds done in the dark of the moon The Big Dipper spins toward the brighter of stars As fireflies dance outside the jar….” I miss you tonight… how I long for your skin I’m lost in that song where the stories begin Good night to this magic… this silhouette scene… The Milky Way… me…. and Irene…. So we waltz with the wind…. We shine in the sun… There’s more work to do when this traffic jam’s done… The moment of truth…The instinct of doubt Trust in the feeling it might just work out…. Oh, I miss you tonight… how I ache for your skin I’m lost in that place where the stories begin Good night to this magic… this silhouette scene… The Milky Way… me…. and Irene…. She’s a tug boat captain! … it’s the thing that she does Not worried about pronouns.. why?… just because… But if you’re asking for help… she’s ready and strong… Steady on the throttle.. to move you along…. “Swallowtail mornings… grapevine afternoons Loving deeds done in the dark of the moon The Big Dipper spins toward the brighter of stars And fireflies dance outside the jar….” 22

Photographers Daniel Cappell Hannah Clemente Instagram: @clementetravels Sergio De Gante Martin Instagram: @kusam.brewing Mitchell Dunbar Elise Hanson Daniel James Instagram: @barefeetdan Ali Kaeberlein Instagram: @ali_kaeb Madeline C. Lanshe Instagram: @mudpuddlephotography51 Mike Neundorfer Hai Nguyen

Writers

If the name Alex Bevan means anything to you, it probably begins with the song “Skinny”, the 1976 Summer Anthem that filled the airwaves of radio station WMMS and brought the Cleveland folksinger’s career into sharp focus “back in the day”. Alex Bevan has been picking up his guitar and going to perform for audiences for over fifty years, singing primarily songs of his own crafting and supported mostly by his deft guitar picking and agile improvisational wit. In short, he is a troubadour of the journeyman class who brings a fresh perspective and unabashed enthusiasm for storytelling to each and every member of the the audience he interacts with.

Alexandra Corey was raised in Portland, Oregon, where she completed a BA in English at Reed College before pursuing an MPhil in Comparative Literature and a PhD in Early Modern French Studies from Trinity College Dublin in Ireland. Her research focuses on intertextuality, rhetoric, and reception, particularly in Middle French and Neo-Latin court poetry of the sixteenth century. She greatly enjoys traveling to the archives in Italy and France as well as translating from French into English in order to explore the nuances and resonances of both languages. Elinda McKenna is a recently retired geologist and has changed her focus to almost full-time travel in her RV, “Pangea”, with her spouse Ray and their dog, Opal. Elinda has always had many interests, from earning her pilot’s license, scuba certification, an MS in Geology, competing in and training clients the equestrian disciplines, and working as an exploration geologist, technical editor and operations manager for a biomedical publisher, at a universitybased energy research organization. When approaching retirement, she felt drawn to return to her feral roots of slowing down to be curious about the world, spending time outdoors, and traveling to places she’s never been while returning to some of her favorites.

Allison Njaria is a full-time field worker at Naomi’s Village, a children’s home, preschool and K-12 academy holistically serving vulnerable children in the Great Rift Valley of Kenya. She dearly loves the children she works with and delights in seeing them succeed.

Nicholas Sherman and his wife, Loree, are avid travelers constantly in search of unique culinary experiences. They believe in living in the moment, striving to appreciate the nuances of humanity and constantly nurturing a connection to the physical world through eschewing social media and prevailing narratives. They’re based in the Southeast US and hope to welcome a golden doodle puppy to their home in 2024. 24

Submissions Who can submit? Anyone! If you have access to our magazine, we’d love to hear from you. What should I submit? Anything creative and relevant that can be shared in digital form! Photography, illustrations, poetry, short stories, personal stories, art, etc. Why do you accept submissions? This magazine is a space for people to share their stories and passions in hopes it will connect us with others in a positive, uplifting way. “The ethnosphere is humanity’s great legacy. It is the product of our dreams, the embodiment of our hopes, the symbol of all that we are and all that we have created as a wildly inquisitive and astonishingly adaptive species.” - Wade Davis When can I submit? In each issue, we will reveal the theme for the coming issue. If you’d like your proposal to be considered for the coming issue, submit as soon as you can to give us time to review it with our team, communicate with you, edit, and fit it into the greater picture of the magazine. Otherwise, submit anything at any time. It may fit in a future issue or even inspire the theme for one! How do I submit? Go to the submissions page of ethnospheremagazine.com and fill out the form. If possible, attach any images, PDFs or other files to be reviewed, and the editor will be in touch with you. If you have a story that you think would make for a great article, but you don’t have the narrative prowess to write it, don’t worry! There is an opportunity for a conversation with the editor so that she, or someone on the editorial staff, could write the story with you. If your submission is not accepted, don’t get discouraged. There is always a chance in the future. In the meantime, we hope you enjoy all that the magazine has to offer. Even if you are not featured within it, your experiences, dreams, and creations are equally part of the Ethnosphere. 25

Coming in December: Issue 12

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Smultronställe

Swedish (n) : “place of wild strawberries,” A special place, often secret or hidden, where one finds solace, peace, or happiness Madeline C. Lanshe

Hai Nguyen